Black Swan

(Darren Aronofsky, 2010)

by Thomas Gatto / ★★★★

Nobody truly knows the capabilities of the human mind once it is backed into a corner. Director Darren Aronofsky has created a brilliant resume that constantly tries to answer this question. His characters are extremely fragile and vulnerable, obsessed and compelled to do certain things they know detail harmful and dangerous consequences. With Requiem For a Dream it was drugs, studying the different effects and tribulations that they can have on the human psyche. Micky Rourke in The Wrestler focused on underground professional wrestling, and the mental and physical tolls the aging process has on a man too dysfunctional to live happily in the routine of the everyday. Black Swan has been described by many critics and bloggers as the demented ugly cousin to The Wrestler. Instead of wrestling there is dancing, and we go on an exploration into the physical demands and needs the profession burdens upon its participants. However, The Wrestler was firmly rooted in reality, always letting the events of the deliberate daily routine tell the simple story. Black Swan may have been shot with the same grainy camera, but it presents to us a no-holds-bar psychological thriller that has aspects of drama and horror instilled.

From the opening scene I could already tell I was tragically going to fall in love with the film. We observe Natalie Portman performing Swan Lake and how she is engulfed in some sort of tug-of-war between the dark and the light. Right away Arnofsky is playing the audience like a fine tuned piano. Natalie Portman plays Nina, a very dedicated dancer who yearns for more stage time and the lead role in Swan Lake. She lives in a small apartment where the only other resident is her mother. Her mother is a failed dancer who appears to have turned to drawing/painting once she had Nina. There are a lot of mirrors in the film, and one of the first shots we get is of Nina’s back, appearing to have a red abrasion on her shoulder. Similarly to what we received in The Wrestler, the audience is introduced to the physical demands of ballet and the different techniques one must do in order to stretch their limbs to places that seem beyond the idea of possibility. The dance sequences are shot with pure precision and careful motion. The elegant movement and physical storytelling may appear to be beautiful and graceful, but what goes on in the mind is an entirely different tale.

When Nina bags the main gig for the recital, we begin to see how Nina’s mind struggles between the real and the role. Sleazy dance director Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel) urges Nina to let go and explore the freedom and independence of being one with the black swan. Nina is essentially a perfectionist, as she claims she wants it “to be perfect.” Leroy observes a fellow dancer Lily (Mila Kunis) and how all her moves seem so natural and effortless. As we follow Nina from studio and back, like a follower on her everyday routine, we see certain things that question her sanity. Is she a reliable narrator? There is certain drama with a retired dancer (Winona Ryder) that gives Nina a nightmarish possible look into the future, and a provocative relationship with Lily that becomes stranger as the film moves along.

Claustrophobia plays an integral role in the journey Nina embarks upon. Her little place with her mom certainly doesn’t help her with working out her deep emotional insecurities. At first the relationship between Nina and her mother appears to be sweet, as Nina calls from her phone saying “Mommy I got it!” This is essentially the last time we see a joyous moment between the two with coherent clarity. Nina often finds herself in a spot with not a whole lot of breathing room. At times she is on a subway, and we observe her reflection in the mirror repetitively. The studio is rather large but when Nina is dancing, you can see it in her face and eyes that she feels very compact and contained. The theme of losing ones innocence is pushed to the forefront. Nina claims she isn’t a virgin, but the way she acts around male counterparts certainly tells another story.

Since Aronofsky wants the audience to let go with Nina, he makes sure he casts an impeccable star in the leading role. Natalie Portman simply stole my heart in what is undoubtedly her best performance ever. The physical demands of the role are impressively handled, but take a careful gander at the various breaks in emotions Portman puts forth. With every teardrop wiped away there is a broken smile. Observe her face while she is dancing; the moves of the black swan appear to be on the mark, but the facial expression neither matches nor enhances what Leroy is trying to capture. Her discussions with Lily are also a telling sign of her inner struggle with the role. However, when the mind begins to turn, and it does, Portman is able to safely adapt and really transcend the dark psychological horror that tends to unfold.

Some may find that Aronofsky is a bit too untamed and wild in the film’s quarter-third, and this may be so. But for what it is worth, I totally bought into it. This film has been described as a psychological thriller, but it is probably more validly labeled as a complex character study. Again, the camera is constantly following Nina from behind (Similair to The Wrestler) and in turn, this reeled in the perspective that what we see is all what Nina sees. She loses grip on reality, so we lose grip on what is actually happening. There isn’t much confusion with what actually percolates on the screen as far as I’m concerned. Better yet, is it all that important? What is important, however, lies in comprehending why Nina is being haunted by images of a washed up dancer, her mother, Lily, and more importantly, herself.

The concluding segments of the film really crank up the demented and sick psychological burdens the role has put onto Nina. The swan role demands her to wear heavy amounts of face makeup, and it is a clear allegory to what her character has gone through in what is an emotionally draining experience. The terrific and deeply haunting score from Clint Mansell only further augments the loud and troubling transformation that is occurring right before our eyes. We sympathize with Nina because we know she is innocent, pure, and heartfelt. Cinematographer Matthew Libatique captures the Swan Lake final act with such eloquence, we feel as if we are one of the stand-in dancers onstage. Black Swan is as powerful as a Shakespeare tragedy and as enthralling as a trip on the highest roller coaster in the world. Whether or not it all works for you is a fair question, but one cannot easily let go of Nina as she cannot easily let go of herself.