David O'ConnellBlack Swan
January 12th 2011 01:38
After an intriguing, sometimes less than engaging first half, Darren Aronofsky’s fifth film, Black Swan, finally takes flight with a disturbing, energised and eerie second half that pushes it to the forefront of the director’s body of work. Difficult to categorise, the film begins with furtive glimpses at the harrowing competitiveness that dogs the world of ballet before assuming a streak of very potent psychological horror.
Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) is one of many contenders for the lead role of Swan Princess in the latest incarnation of Swan Lake undertaken by arrogant, domineering choreographer Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassell). A compunction to secure such a coveted role escalates her ambition, but does she possess the ability to embody both the innocent White Swan and her deceptive sister, the Black Swan?
Nina’s staunchest competition comes from Lily (Mila Kunis), a curiously ill-defined blow-in from California who, though clearly not as talented in a formal sense, seems intent of ingratiating her way into the company’s upper echelon via both Nina and Thomas. But what is the carefree Lily’s underlying motivation?
As the film advances, she becomes an ever intriguing and ambiguous figure, positioned as both a potential threat and allay. Is she a sinister projection of Nina’s subconscious? Or a manifestation of her uninhibited inner self, in snatches rising to the surface through the stress fractures caused by the role’s intensity?
From the outset, Black Swan displays a capacity to disturb with fragmentary scenes that might be clues to the yawning dysfunction about to rear its ugly head, or the materialisation of Nina’s deep-rooted paranoia.
Aronofsky has talked about his fascination with Dostoyevsky’s famous novella, The Double, and its influence on his discussions with screenwriters Mark Heyman and Andres Heinz. This compelling notion of a person’s doppelganger also ties in with a duality that finds an effective outlet in directly contrasting Nina with her adversary and the fear of competition it stimulates.
So, what is Black Swan ultimately? The surreal tale of an extravagant nervous breakdown? Or one of supernatural possession? Or both? Nina’s domestic life exists beneath the gaze of her overbearing mother, Erica (Barbara Hershey), whose own failed attempt to become a successful dancer seems to spur her excessive admonishment of Nina’s moments of weakness.
Erica seems an archetypal maternal figure, living life vicariously through Nina, whilst close-checking her movements in a manner that verges on suffocation. Fascinating parellels might be drawn with Brain De Palma’s Carrie (1976) - sans the virulent religious fervour - as well as Michael Hanake’s The Piano Teacher (2001) in which Isabelle Huppert's Erika inhabits the same bed as her mother. A distinct resemblance in facial bone structures between Portman and Hershey only heightens the effectiveness of Aronofsky’s casting.
The exploration of Nina’s sublimination of her sexual impulses is occasionally less than effective. A series of scenes in the middle section form a distinctive lull in the narrative. Firstly, Thomas brazenly asks Nina about whether she’s a virgin, before imploring her to go home and touch herself – “to live a little”. But before she does, a lewd old man on the train home makes a series of less than subtle gestures towards her. These moments feel clumsy and false, falling patently short of the profound psychological implications they seem to be aiming for.
At times it’s difficult to decipher the starting point of composer Clint Mansell’s original score, which thrillingly integrates chunks of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake whilst unfurling out into eerie modern variations and invocations. Churning electronic undercurrents occasionally add to the extenuating darkness as Nina’s feverish dislocation from the real world takes hold.
I’ve never been a great fan of Portman but Arorofsky has extracted something special from her; she’s nothing short of magnificent, impressively able to survive the intense scrutiny of Aronofsky’s gaze via the typically adept, often bravura, camerawork of another long-time collaborator in D.P. Matthew Libatique. It’s hard to imagine any actress doing this role more justice and the close-checking of Libatique's roving lens makes the starkness of Portman's transformation difficult to resist.
The film raises fascinating questions. What dark forces have been awakened by Nina’a burning, all-consuming desire to fulfill the duel roles? At what cost will her unhealthy determination come? And what role do her mother and Lily, or even the psychologically wounded former chosen one, Beth (Winona Ryder), really play in the unraveling of Nina’s destabilised world?
The concluding scenes make for darkest, ironic poetry; in many ways, a perfect assimilation of the film’s multi-pronged, open-ended themes. Black Swan (2010) may be flawed but it’s still breath-taking cinema, often audaciously reveling in genre. It may fall short of Aronofsky's masterpiece Requiem for a Dream (2001), but it's in the same ballpark.
Black Swan opens in Australian cinemas next Thursday, January 20.
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QUOTE ME NO QUOTES!
I am really looking forward to seeing this, better get my ass into gear before it goes off screen.
cheers
fog