Black Swan

2010, 15, Directed by Darren Aronofsky

Starring: Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Barbara Hershey

Darren Aronofsky’s first film since The Wrestler follows a near-identical formula: a character cannot deny their addiction to a talent they pursue powerlessly. Whereas Mickey Rourke’s wrestler was the protagonist in which that film was based, Black Swan focuses on Natalie Portman’s ballerina, Nina. Her every moment is shaped by ballet and it is this obsession which shapes the film (the opening sequence is a dream of Nina dancing as the Swan Queen, the role all ballerinas covet). We are permitted an immediate glimpse into Nina’s sheltered life, which aptly starts how Black Swan means to go on. You will question what is grounded in reality or what is in the mind, largely due to the digital trickery Aronofsky revels in shaking-up his audience with. Vincent Cassel’s expedient director, Thomas, makes no secret about the fact that Nina plays the White Swan to perfection, but that she just cannot convey the seductive scarred sexuality necessary for the Black Swan. Together with the forceful pressure placed onto her by the presence of new ballerina on the block Lily (Mila Kunis), Nina begins to make a tantalising transition. The casting here is inspired, with Portman epitomising Nina’s fragility in a beautiful manner – 8 months of dedicated training for the role is strongly indicated, causing the ballet scenes to be as awe-inspiring to even somebody who has no interest in dance. Cassel and Kunis impress, each adapting to their character with relative ease, whilst Barbara Hershey as the suffocating Mom of Nina plays just the right amount of mental-cased menace necessary so as not to belittle, but to partly influence her daughter’s inevitable spiral. But extreme kudos to Portman – she lingers in almost every shot: a shadow here, a reflection there (highlighting the extreme importance of mirrors). The amount of screen time she occupies in a film as challenging as this is pretty unthinkable and deserves to be rewarded (pay attention, Oscar).

Vitally, Aronofsky’s insistence on focusing on the intricacy of what his cast are doing is completely present – the scintillating cinematography will enable you to witness Swan Lake closer-up than you ever thought possible, experiencing every crack of the toe or toe out of line that Nina experiences. The camerawork on display effuses naturalism and surrealism simultaneously, birthing an uneasy feeling throughout: the claustrophobic camera constantly breathing down Nina’s neck; the technical flair of the camera matching her actions; the ingenious ability of capturing the beautiful and not-so-nice elements of the performances. The film insists upon weaving genres, but this simply adds to the unsettling nature at play and sets you up in such a way that you will welcome the scenes that will embed Black Swan into cult status forever more (and trust me, there are some seriously out-there moments).

Suffice to say, Black Swan is not for everyone, yet love it or loathe it there is no denying its palatable power. This is serious artistic ingenuity and Aronofsky has certainly defined himself as a genre director. Black Swan is the most horrific psychologically charged thriller there is. Prepare to be mesmerised.

4/5