Black Swamp

Rating: 1/10 (2 April 2011)

A virginal ingénue must struggle against an evil force while her performing career, her sanity, even her life may be at stake. Her decision to confront or obey an ambiguous father figure, fight or flee a competitor all will play a key part but her ultimate fate will be decided by her choices about herself. Meanwhile, of course the show must go on.
From this springboard, you can either see a great horror film about isolation and despair or an entertaining Hollywood musical with a hint of the horror genre. It depends on whether you choose to see the original (1925) or most recent (2004) Phantom of the Opera.
Black Swan, with an identical baseline, will either give you a fit of the giggles or dry heaves. If you already saw it, I offer my condolences. If you liked it, do not read on because I am going to massacre it without one gram of mercy.
First, credit where credit is due: one artist worthy of the name contributed to this film. Pyotr Tchaikovsky composed some of the music. Despite the heavily-stacked odds, Ryder and Cassel come out with their acting credentials only slightly bruised.
Darren Aronofsky directs Black Swan with the empathy and subtlety of a traffic cop while using the camera as a machine gun. By the time he is done, and he takes his time, everyone is either wounded or dead.
One salient example: Mila Kunis, who plays the evil twin, has black wings tattooed on her back. Get it? Get it? As to Natalie Portman, she was given cue cards listing allowed facial expressions, numbered from one to five. Spoiler: expression number two (frowning, mouth open) is the one with the Academy Award.
Sex, or lack thereof, is central to the character's fate, both professionally and psychologically. Either she did it or not, will or will not, how and with whom, gay or straight will get her the role, make her complete, turn her to the Dark Side of the Force, or solve the paradoxes of quantum physics.
Aranofsky truly shines here. Portman masturbates in front of a roomful of pink stuffed bunnies (and her sleeping mummy); gets her crotch grabbed by her employer during an insightful lesson on the art of seduction; and dreams that Mila Kunis does sex to her.
I struggled a lot with the lesbian scene and finally settled for "does sex to her" as most fitting. Both actresses kiss as if they found each other's breath repulsive, underwear gets pulled, Kunis does sex to Portman. Enjoy.
For sensuality and passion, go to my original comparison and watch the seduction scene in The Phantom of the Opera (Joel Schumacher, 2004). There is practically no skin exposed, half of what there is urgently needs a dermatologist, but it is still infinitely more erotic. The difference, of course, is that Schumacher is a real director, Butler is competent, and Rossum a talented actress.
Which brings us to the central mystery of Black Swan: where does that Academy Award for best actress come from? Portman gives us the answer in her last line: "I was perfect." No you were not! In fact, you look more alive and engaging on the Miss Dior posters, despite the fact you do not move or speak. Or possibly because
Black Swan is sometimes promoted as a horror film. It is the only honest part of the hype: it is indeed horrible.