Ferocious psychological filmmaking at its finest

Rating: 9/10 (13 January 2011)

While from a distance ballet may look like it is filled with elegance and grace, in reality ballerinas must possess incredible strength, flexibility and unwavering dedication if they wish to succeed in such a physically demanding profession. It is therefore not so surprising that the latest film from director Darren Aronofsky focuses on a New York ballet company and their performance of Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake. From washed up wrestlers to reclusive mathematicians, Spanish conquistadors and Coney Island drug addicts, all of Aronofsky's films – π, Requiem for a Dream, The Fountain and The Wrestler – have been centered around characters who become dangerously, singularly obsessed. In Black Swan, the character is Nina, a shy, timorous young dancer played magnificently by Natalie Portman. Her fixation? The leading role of The Swan Queen. Filled with nightmarish intensity, gripping melodrama, steamy eroticism and occasional camp, Black Swan is a captivating tale of a woman consumed by her quest for perfection, and a visceral cinematic experience from one of the true visionary directors of today.
Swan Lake, the story of a princess transformed by an evil sorcerer into a beautiful white swan, is one of the most famed ballets in history. It's most interesting aspect is that its lead ballerina is required to dance two parts; the graceful white swan, as well as the sultry black swan, the seductress who steals the white swans love. For Nina, the role represents her shot at stardom, as well as the chance to finally prove herself to her domineering mother (Barbara Hershey), a woman whose overbearing personality has trapped Nina is a state of perpetual childhood. Nina's innocence however, is soon to be shattered. Forced to contend with the jealousy of her fellow dancers, the sexual advances of the company's lecherous director (Vincent Cassel) and the enormous pressures of perfecting her technique, Nina grasp on reality begins to slip. Haunted by terrifying hallucinations, her paranoia is given form in the appearance of Lily, a beautiful and uninhibited new dancer who represents everything the obsessive, sexually repressed Nina is not.
Natalie Portman has always been a solid performer, but her work in Black Swan is indisputably a career best. The feelings of fear and pain that Nina experiences – both mental and physical – are palpable in this all-encompassing performance, one that demands of Portman both the utmost emotional expression and a physicality every bit as straining as Mickey Rourke's in Aronofksy's previous film, The Wrestler. Once again, this masterful pulls back the curtain to reveal the hidden agonies of performance as entertainment; in Black Swan, ballet is portrayed not as art but as near torture, the excruciating physical feats Nina attempts depicted with a sickening, gut-wrenching realism. The emotional abuse Nina suffers at the hands of her coworkers, director and psychopathic mother is similarly horrifying, so much so that even at the beginning of the film, her psychosis is already beginning to peek through. Portman's transformation, through fear and madness, from the quiet and dainty dancer Nina was – her mother's "sweet girl" – to the furious, powerful, sexually eruptive creature she becomes by the films end, is utterly enthralling to behold.
The technical prowess Aronofsky displays in this film is quite simply incredible. The use of stark digital cinematography irritated me at first, but as the film progressed I soon reevaluated my initial impressions. This is a gritty, claustrophobic film, and the inelegant visual aesthetic is an essential part of the movies tone, be it in its portrayal of dance, sex or paranoid dreams. As Nina's mind begins to descent further into madness, her disturbing hallucinations, full of images of self-harm, bodily transformation and erotic decadence, all feel graphically, often frighteningly real. The film's production design is also terrific; a single look at Nina's bedroom tells you everything you need to know about her character and home environment. Likewise, in almost every scene a mirror is present, reflecting the dual nature of Nina's role and personality, both of which threaten to destroy her. These and other motifs did strike me as a tad obvious, but ultimately Black Swan is less concerned with avoiding clichés as it is with the establishment of a dark and thrilling atmosphere; in this regard, it is almost perfect.
Speaking of atmosphere, the use of sound in Black Swan is absolutely astounding. Clint Mansell has scored every one of Aronofsky's films, and between Requiem for the Dream and The Fountain has crafted some of the best and most iconic film music of all time. Compared to his work on those films, the Black Swan score is far less bombastic; instead, Mansell reinforces moments of fear, triumph, eroticism and despair with precise classical pieces, often incorporating themes from Tchaikovsky's magnificent ballet into his own original tracks. Indeed, by the films frantic and operatic end, it is impossible to tell where Mansell's work ends and Tchaikovsky's begins – the main theme from Swan Lake is used to spectacular effect in the movies climax. Even better than the score however is the film's incredibly evocative sound design. Aronofsky incorporates the noises of cracking bones, heavy breathing, rustling feathers and shattering glass to create an air of constant unease and occasional terror; the subsequent blend of music, sound and striking visuals is heady and intoxicating.
In the hands of lesser talent, Black Swan could easily have been a total mess. There are elements within this script, and even within some of the performances (most notably Barbara Hershey's), that would have fitted easily into a day time soap opera or cheesy eighties horror film. Instead, under the technical precession of Darren Aronofsky, and lead by a flooring performance from Natalie Portman, this film is a near masterpiece, one that draws you in with its dark sensuality and twisted, uncontainable energy. This is ferocious psychological filmmaking at its finest.