At the precipice of perfection

Rating: Null/10 (20 December 2010)

"Battle not with monsters, lest ye become a monster, and if you gaze into the abyss, the abyss gazes also into you."
–– Friedrich Nietzsche, Beyond Good And Evil
We have often heard numerous variations of the phrase, "It's the journey, not the destination." Sure, the line has attained a rather trite status, but still manages to maintain relevance. The greatest lessons seem to come from the process of achievement, rather than the achievement itself. In overcoming obstacles, we learn more about ourselves – or at least we should.
Black Swan is a film that examines the "journey" with an emphasis on the shadowy corners that encompass it. When trekking towards notability, sometimes you must traverse dark passages. This is when the real inquisition takes place. What is the price of perfection? Would you sacrifice relationships? Would you compromise your morality? Would you risk your sanity?
While watching Black Swan, it becomes apparent how ballet is the perfect backdrop to explore the theme of well, the pursuit of perfection. For even novice-minded individuals like myself, who have little knowledge of this art form, we quickly realize just how demanding, taxing, and grueling it can be on the mind and body – but all of that is just the superficial lining.
Black Swan begins as the classic story of an individual's pursuit of success. It's a story we have seen many times before, this time within the arena of the performing arts. We soon discover this archetypal tale unfolding into something more elaborate though. This is a surreal and mind-bending journey that is anything but standard storytelling fare.
Natalie Portman plays Nina Sayers, an outwardly fragile yet inwardly confident ballerina who aspires for the lead role in a production of Swan Lake. The show's director, Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassell), demands that the Swan Queen be someone who can pull off both the delicate innocence of the White Swan, as well as the seductive nature of the Black Swan. He sees in Nina a precise and talented dancer, but someone who seems to lack the alluring appeal necessary for the darker role. Leroy wants Nina to let go of herself and he takes rather questionable measures to facilitate the process.
Standing in Nina's way is Lily (Mila Kunis), a fellow ballerina who has career aspirations of her own. That is where the similarities between the two characters end. Nina's morally bound character starkly contrasts Lily's unbecoming demeanor. Where Nina relies heavily on preciseness during her performances, Lily dances with a natural flair that impresses the director. Nina is drawn to Lily's mysterious persona and the two quickly develop a tense and estranged relationship.
Director Darren Aronofsky successfully blends his definitive style with the engaging substance of the script. With Black Swan, his career has clearly realized its fruition. There are obvious remnants of his previous works evident in his latest. Aronofsky effectively depicts the deterioration of the body a la Requiem for a Dream (2000) and The Wrestler (2008). The gradual descent into madness is another phenomenon that he previously examined in Pi (1998) and Requiem.
Aronofsky exudes an auteur stature that recalls trademarks of other marquee directors. Like Brian DePalma, he traverses the psychological thriller genre utilizing eroticism and the doubling motif. Like David Cronenberg, he delves into venereal horror and psychosomatic disturbances. And like David Lynch, he reveals a dark underbelly in a typically bright world while blurring reality and illusion.
The acting here is top-notch and delivers a genuinely neurotic punch. Portman is stunning and clearly sheds any previous conceptions of modesty and chasteness. Look for her to be the favorite in the Oscar pool for Best Actress. Supporting roles are almost certain to be in the awards mix as well. Kunis is the perfect choice as the sinister adversary. Cassell depicts demand and debauchery with the utmost proficiency. Winona Ryder and Barbara Hershey also shine as a past-her-prime ballerina and an overprotective mother respectively.
The cinematography is technically precise and visually stunning. The camera work of Matthew Libatique pulls us into the world of ballet in dramatically up-close fashion. Drawing from The Wrestler, we are thrust into the arena of ballet, almost as if we are dancing along with Nina. The kinetic rush of each spin is intensified with the rotating lens. The illusion of flight is captured with hand held proficiency. We follow Nina's footsteps along her journey as if we are hovering over her shoulder. The motif of mirrors plays a dramatic role throughout the film. The multiple shots and angles, incorporating reflections from mirrors, must have required a tremendous amount of preparation and exactness.
There is an underlying sense of captivation in Black Swan. It is a mysterious omnipresence looming almost from the start. Darkness lurks in corners, within corridors, and behind reflections. It reveals itself only periodically at first, a strange rash on the back, and inexplicable bleeding. Even the mundane act of fingernail clipping induces squeamish moments. It leaves us to wonder – like Nina – what we are witnessing. Aronofsky tells his story in Hitchcock-like fashion, injecting suspense in strict moderation. It develops initially as a slow simmer, and is clearly boiling over by the film's climax.
The conclusion, though, reminds us of the true essence of Black Swan. Competition can often times be relentless as well as remorseless. Contention can fuel our motivations, test our wills, and catapult us to greater heights. When the mind overcomes the body, we all possess the potential for greatness. Within the journey, we discover something essential about ourselves. The pursuit of perfection, however, can sometimes lead to consequential outcomes. Sometimes, we learn just how far beyond the cusp of morality and sanity we are willing to go. We gaze into the abyss, and it gazes back at us. And sometimes, when we leap beyond the precipice, there is no coming back.