Climbing Higher Pictures

Though it’s only been a year since Mickey Rourke‘s tour-de-force performance in Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler, here we are back again with another character study, this time with the female dominated school of ballet as its focus. Does Natalie Portman have what it takes to make Black Swan an awards season contender, or is Aronofsky in for another snub?

Black Swan Review

By Ryan Hamelin

Movie: A

I’d be surprised if you find anyone who leaves Black Swan feeling “indifferent.” This is a polarizing movie, and that has a lot to do with the mindset you having coming in. Despite a large reservoir of negativity on my part, the movie still managed to overcome my expectations and deliver its bitter medicine, and the question won’t be whether or not it effects you, the question will be “How much?” For me, it was an emotional rollercoaster with a potency that Aronofsky hasn’t commanded since Requiem for a Dream. The Wrestler was a much quieter film, and The Fountain had a very contemplative center which made it rewarding only after substantial reflection on the part of the audience members themselves. Black Swan, on the other hand, is tumultuous, breaking down a viewer’s defenses until they have no choice but succumb to the madness of the protagonist. To this day I still can’t decide whether I never want to see the film ever again, or if I need to go back as soon as humanly possible. It’s on that level.

To start I’d say that anyone who gives the film negative commentary for being “heavy handed” clearly hasn’t sat through a ballet. The musical cues hit hard and they resonate because that’s all the dancers have to work with. There’s no dialogue, no story beyond what they can tell with their bodies and the support of the orchestra. The fact that the theatricality of the stage carries over into our lead’s personal life only heightens the level to which we relate to her suffering, and those hoping for less were clearly banking on a more observational perspective, something Aronofsky refuses to deliver. There are almost no wide shots in the whole film, and we only get a good view of spaces if it’s an over the shoulder from a position of observation. There are few character studies which work this hard to put you inside the body of the protagonist, and it’s easily one of the highlights of the piece. After a few minutes you’ll find yourself completely submerged, and even the credits may not be enough to snap you back to reality.

Natalie Portman gives a tour-de-force performance here, creating a shell for the audience to inhabit that is both exacting and naïve to an incredible degree. She has never been given the chance to mature, and it’s this fundamental truth which makes her interactions with her mother and Mila Kunis that much more exciting to watch. The three of them really support each others performances, and with the whole film being built around causes and effects, it’s in the reaction shots that most of the acting takes place. They’re each only as good as the performers they’re with, and the three of them in particular really elevate each other’s work. Portman may be making waves in the Best Actress judging, but without the supporting work from Kunis, this would be a lifeless film. Vincent Cassel provides the foil for all the swirling energy, and raises the stakes with every appearance. He’s not the antagonist, really, but neither is any single character. The conglomerate formed out of the forces acting on Portman is where the driving energy comes from, and no amount of visual tricks or orchestra riffs can distract from that kind of momentum.

The highest praise I can deliver to a psychological thriller like Black Swan is that it truly freaked me out. Horror movies aren’t really my thing, and I find bloody splatter flicks to be closer to comedy than actual terror. This is a deeply disturbing exercise, literally emptying the back of classical twisted tropes, but delivering wholeheartedly on all of them. The direction of the darker moments is so confident and sure of itself that you know you’ll never be thrown out of the movie, but you’ll still be pushed to covering your eyes from time to time. The inside of Portman’s head is a place where nightmares slide in and out of the waking terror and pressure of embodying someone she’s kept locked away inside of her, smothered under layers of warped childhood experiences. The moment it all starts falling apart is as cathartic for her as it is for the audience, and though I know both this film and The Wrestler were originally developed as a single screenplay, I fully support the split which turned each into visually distinct yet thematically connected narratives. If this is truly the conclusion of Aronofsky’s series of occupational character studies, it is a rousing end indeed. Definitely don’t wait for a rental on this one, see it in a dark theater with a live audience while you still can.