Black Swan
This
will seem an odd thing to say, but in many ways Darren Aronofsky’s Black
Swan, a psychological drama about prima ballerinas, is surprisingly
rather similar to his last film – based upon an entirely different world and
lifestyle – The Wrestler.
I
know what you are saying – how does a character study on young and lithe
dancers treading the boards of Lincoln Center gibe with a character study on
has-been athletes trying to hold onto their livelihood in cheesy arenas long
after their prime?
Because both films are about the allure and torture of fame and talent and
the ways in which someone will sacrifice their bodies and minds in order to
attain and keep the spotlight.
Both
movies also look at aging performers trying desperately to claim what is
quite probably their last chance at the career to which they have dedicated
their lives. (Natalie Portman’s character here is only 26 – but in the
youth-obsessed world of ballet that is kind of over the hill.)
Also, through Aronofsky’s vision, ballet dancing can sometimes be every bit
as punishing as fighting.
There are differences, needless to say. Black Swan is certainly more
inward-looking, psychological and fantastical than the determinedly
downtrodden and realistic Wrestler.
However, another way that the films are similar is that both are abnormally
good.
There are differences, needless to say. Black Swan is certainly more
inward-looking, psychological and fantastical than the determinedly
downtrodden and realistic Wrestler.
However, another way that the films are similar is that both are abnormally
good.
Portman plays Nina, an insecure, repressed (and sometimes apparently
mentally deranged) ballerina who has been awaiting her chance to be a star
at Lincoln Center in New York for years. She lives with her overbearing
stage mother (Barbara Hershey) – a failed former dancer who is now living
out her fantasies of potential stardom through her daughter.
When
the aging but self-destructive diva of the company (Winona Ryder) is put out
to pasture, Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel) – the slightly slimy Eurotrash
director of the company – gives Nina a shot to play the lead role in a
rethink of Swan Lake. The problem is, Leroy knows that the
technically perfect Nina can inhabit the pure white swan, but he is not sure
that the tightly-wound perfectionist can lose herself in the imperfect
sexuality of the black swan.
Thus
begins a psychological journey in which the ballerina must try to find the
bad girl inside herself. This attempt is aided by Lily (Mila Kunis), a new
dancer in the troupe who is less technically proficient but much more
natural performer – and a much wilder person.
At
the same time, she is dealing with a long-standing compulsion to cut
herself, a slight compulsion for kleptomania, a fear of passion and intimacy
and also apparently the fact that more and more often she is hallucinating
her life away. Literally, as the film gets deeper and deeper into the story
it is difficult to keep track of what Nina is imagining and what is really
happening to her.
When
she becomes determined that her new friend (and potential lover?) Lily is
trying to steal her role, Nina seems to go completely off the deep end.
Or
is that just her finally coming to grips with her role?
Black Swan has
a wild, surreal, hallucinogenic vibe – in fact, it is also strangely
reminiscent of Aronofsky’s earlier drug abuse film Requiem for a Dream
– in style and tone, if not so much storyline.
Earlier this year, I may have thought that the film was too willfully odd to
become an actual blockbuster and was more likely to become an arthouse
favorite. But coming on the heels of Inception, all bets are off.
This
may be as close to a mainstream hit that Aronofsky will have – though,
honestly, The Wrestler was a more mainstream movie – but Black
Swan has a better shot of breaking through to a wider audience.
Which is both an encouraging and an oddly troubling reflection on modern
Hollywood.
Jay S. Jacobs
Copyright ©2011 PopEntertainment.com.
All rights reserved. Posted: February 5, 2011.
