2010.108 Minutes. Rated R.
“What is she doing here?”
I was reluctant to watch Black Swan when it was out in theaters, and again after its release. I am always reluctant to watch a movie after it receives so much fanfare.
Black Swan – Fox Searchlight Pictures
I have only watched a couple of films with Natalie Portman, and I never formed an opinion about her acting. I am not particularly fond of psychological thrillers, either. As fate would have it, I was enthralled by the intensity of the drama at every turn. I mean, intense! I get anxious during such thrillers, conscious that the plot has a surprise in store behind every door or every verbal exchange, and the outcome, I am certain, will never be favorable. I might even call this movie a horror film, or perhaps an epic. Maybe a classic. Who knows.
I am a fan of ballet, which is why I carefully observed the trailers for the film. I know enough of the creative spirit and the maddening pursuit of such endeavors, the perceived shortcomings and insecurities of artists, and so I knew eventually this was a film I would have to watch, regardless of my initial misgivings. I finally took the plunge. I was fascinated by the artist’s struggle-the struggle of Nina (Portman) to craft her art (dance) with such flawless perfection, but struggle, at the request of her teacher and director (Vincent Cassel) to transcend perfection through the union of passion, raw emotion, sexual abandon and the calculation of years of practice.
The summation of Portman’s journey is that of every artist—to take the artist’s craft to another level, to transcend a normal art into something other-worldly, something perfect. This quest for perfection, however, seems to be met with self-doubt and a dark side that is reflected in Nina’s task to meet and transcend a world we, the viewers, are not sure exists. This is where the drama really begins to unfold.
Nina auditions with dozens of other dancers for the lead role of the Swan in Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. The director likes Nina’s dancing, but explains that she is perfect for the part of the White Swan—a perfect dancer who has perfected her craft—but the director explains that Nina lacks the passion to play the Black Swan, the alter ego of the White Swan. When Nina sheepishly approaches the director to petition him for the part, he explains that he really likes her dancing, but she is too frigid, too stiff; Nina must loosen up, and until then, could never play the part of the Swan—a role that requires a dancer to delve into two worlds of being, a split between order and beauty as embodied in the White Swan; and drunken, reckless abandon, as embodied in the Black Swan. As the director proceeds to kiss Nina, she bites him, unraveling a dark spirit (spiral) that has already begun to rear its ugly head in the early going. Recognizing the dark potential of Portman’s pristine character, the director takes his chance. Moments later, after storming out of the director’s office, the audition results are posted and, surprisingly, Nina learns that she has “won” the role of the Swan.
As every artist knows, such victories are short-lived and not without self- doubt. Nina, at the request and challenge of the director, is on a path of self-discovery, pitted against her struggle against self-infliction—a sort of self flagellation. Nina struggles to form her identity as part of the role (she must “become” the swan), returning home after every rehearsal to the apartment that she shares with her mother. Nina’s mother, a controlling presence in her life, becomes a focal point for the film. Nina, trying to form her identity, must contend with two simultaneous forces: that of her mother, and that of the threat from another ballet dancer, her perceived competition, Lily (Mila Kunis). Lily seems to embody the darker half of Nina—a carefree dancer who is full of life. And as the director explains in no uncertain terms, a loose and passionate dancer from whom Nina must model part of her self, part of her dance, for the role of the Swan.
Neither of these forces (Nina’s mother, nor Lily) seems to be real. Nina must really only enforce the threat from one source: herself. The suspense wraps around our throat as Nina must deal with the perception that there is a darker force hiding just underneath the surface, the source of which is unknown and perhaps unreal. It is unclear what must be done to this beast in order for the body and the mind to flourish, or succeed. But we are not sure if the control and order of Nina’s mother is real, or if the passion and abandon of a dancer who challenges Nina for the star role of the swan is real either; but as both challenge Nina and create a world of paranoia that at every turn seems to spin out of control, we must live with the angst that in the world of creation, the forces will balance out at some point for the sake of art, a performance that exists on a higher plane—although, we cannot be sure.
We see throughout the film that Nina has been mutilating her body. She appears in scenes in the bathtub with scratches on her back and appears to peel back the skin on her fingers. Nina routinely retreats to the bathroom to vomit, an act associated with either a sort of eating disorder or an anxiety disorder. She also cuts her fingers when clipping her nails, and as with every ballet dancer, her feet and joints are often misshapen and distorted for the sake of beauty, her art.
Nina is challenged by the director to get in touch with her dark side, to try to loosen up and embrace the distemper and wonder of the world. But the challenge takes on new meaning as Nina delves into a dark side of the self few would dare to wander. At one point early on in the film, the director challenges Nina to “get in touch with herself,” literally and figuratively, to get in touch with a lively and spirited and sexual side that will “free” Nina, a soft white swan that must learn of the deeper forces that dictate the deepest inner workings of the artist.
This challenge of self discovery leads Nina into an exploration of a world she seems to know little about. She momentarily partakes of Lily’s carefree life of drinking and clubs, in spite of her mother, and as a challenge to her innocent life. But the life of sexual discovery and carefree abandon quickly turn to a distrust of Lily. Before long, Lily is appointed as the understudy for Nina’s role as the Swan. Nina’s curiosity about the carefree Lily soon turns to distrust and then disdain. Afraid that Nina will lose her role to the newly appointed understudy, the tenuous relationship between Nina and Lily turns sour. The distrust turns to paranoia—that Lily is purposely trying to thwart Nina’s position as the star of the show.
By the time the curtain is lifted for the premiere, Nina seems distracted by the self she has been trying fruitlessly to discover. As she begins to abandon her mother and the influence of Lily, Nina is clearly turning into a more beautiful Swan, albeit, a more beautiful Black Swan. What looks like a stumble in the opening act is slowly turning into a triumph. Between acts, Nina wrestles with Lily in the dressing room. Nina picks up a shard of glass from the broken mirror and appears to stab Lily in the stomach, leaving her for dead in the dressing room shower. Or does she?
Killing the demons that have haunted Nina turns a great ballet dancer into a triumph of spectacular proportions. Nina spreads her proverbial wings, and takes flight. And as the ballet moves toward its finale, the Swan falls from its high perch, to its death below. The audience leaps to their feet in cheers for the Swan, for a creature that was transformed by another creature who was transformed. As the director rushes to Nina to show his pleasure toward the new Swan and the dancer who has transformed the ballet, he realizes that something spectacular has happened to Nina, but what the viewer can never be sure.
The viewer is dragged into the world of tragedy, in the truest philosophical sense, tugged between the rational, plastic order of Apollo, and the unconscious, irrational disorder of Dionysos, searching for a morally telling union of both somewhere in the middle. The outcome in the end is a death and a re-birth of sorts. Either way, we are witnesses to a triumph. And we are certain that Natalie Portman’s performance is nothing less than spectacular.
