Fast-pace thriller that artfully explores the mind's labyrinths and the origins of artistic ingenuity.

Rating: 9/10 (3 January 2011)

Black Swan is largely about dualities. Throughout the movie Aronofsky asks us to question what is real and what is a dark dream; who is to be trusted and who is villainous; and who, in the end, is Nina Sayers. The fact that Nina must personify both the white swan and the black swan shows that one of the most significant, symbolic splits we encounter lies within the self — in the mind. Which of her experiences should we believe? Is she the victim of others' machinations, or is Portman's character herself the perpetrator? Does she love or loathe Beth, Lily, her mother, and her director? Is she timid or strong-willed?Is she the black swan or the white swan?
Aronofsky skillfully builds narrative tension by emphasizing the film's many dualities, a feat that he accomplishes through visual cues (this story depends little on dialogue). Note the strategic juxtaposition of white and black wardrobe (particularly in scenes that don't depict ballet), Nina's constant visions of her double, the ghostly and often gruesome reflections in the mirror that seem to defy reality, the way innocuous acts of grooming, dancing and training suddenly turn bloody and destructive. Because we see through Nina's eyes, we share her confusion and must view her world in its strange thematic binaries. The cinematography amplifies our bewilderment; Aronofsky aligns the camera with his protagonist and moves it frantically to communicate Nina's jostled perspective and mental disarray. The only certainty we have is that our heroine's vision is an untrustworthy guide to what is real or fake.
But to focus only on Nina's paranoid schizophrenia would be to overlook this film's more elegant argument about art. Nina's quest to master Swan Lake represents a constant struggle between her controlling desire to refine her technique, and her overarching need to liberate her spirit and embrace her fallibility. What she seeks is a kind of artistic immortality: the equilibrium between precision and passion, the Apollonian and the Dionysian, the scientific and the emotive. The fact that Nina seems to achieve this equilibrium during her performance as the Swan Queen explains why she must die in the end: In reconciling her warring artistic impulses — the black swan and the white swan — she obtains something no mortal can. Perfection.