Natalie Portman just can't get no satisfaction. Not from her dance director/impressario (the masterfully sleazy Vincent Cassel), not form her rival and friend in the dance company, Lily (Mila Kunis), not even from her own hand. An earnest attempt at masturbation (heeding said director's advice) has to be aborted when her suffocating mom (the excellent Barbara Hershey), who suddenly walks in. Remember folks, we're talking about an adult here.
Or are we? In this, director Darren Aronofsky's latest examination of personal/artistic obsession, we find Nina (Portman) desiring to play the dual lead in Swan Lake the way an underprivileged child obsesses about a shiny new dress. Nina’s only release, it seems, is pain; no wound is too great to conflict upon herself - as long as she can keep dancing; no condition is too taxing or demeaning to bear as long as her twisted narcissism is served.
And so, the audience follows her transformation from the virginal White Swan to the uninhibited Black Swan more in amazement than in empathy. Not likeable enough to buy as a heroine, and too self-absorbed to buy as a villain, she is a mess that transfixes us.
the rest of the cast plays around this self-contained battle with varying degrees of deftness and skill, but only Cassel, with his alternately cajoling and demanding posture ( he pleads, he scolds, he cops a feel - or two) and Hershey, as the mother jealously trying to reclaim the dance career she surrendered to raise her daughter, get legitimately close enough to give us some perspective on the lead. Kunis essentially plays the scheming yet carefree prankster she played in the comedy extract, but this one is more "out there" You may not buy her as a ballerina, but she adds some definite levity to a photoplay otherwise enshrouded - and comfortable - in darkness.
In a commentary in the New York Times, a real-life dancer bemoaned the relative lack of dancing in a movie that purports to be about the subject. But such expectations betray a misunderstanding about the director's intentions. Mr Aronofsky and company are not so much concerned about the leaps and turns, but with the horrible psychological and physical grind that underpin them. In this movie, dance is herself the ultimate mistress and very very few persons, of either sex, can measure up to or consistently satisfy her expectations.
Or are we? In this, director Darren Aronofsky's latest examination of personal/artistic obsession, we find Nina (Portman) desiring to play the dual lead in Swan Lake the way an underprivileged child obsesses about a shiny new dress. Nina’s only release, it seems, is pain; no wound is too great to conflict upon herself - as long as she can keep dancing; no condition is too taxing or demeaning to bear as long as her twisted narcissism is served.
And so, the audience follows her transformation from the virginal White Swan to the uninhibited Black Swan more in amazement than in empathy. Not likeable enough to buy as a heroine, and too self-absorbed to buy as a villain, she is a mess that transfixes us.
the rest of the cast plays around this self-contained battle with varying degrees of deftness and skill, but only Cassel, with his alternately cajoling and demanding posture ( he pleads, he scolds, he cops a feel - or two) and Hershey, as the mother jealously trying to reclaim the dance career she surrendered to raise her daughter, get legitimately close enough to give us some perspective on the lead. Kunis essentially plays the scheming yet carefree prankster she played in the comedy extract, but this one is more "out there" You may not buy her as a ballerina, but she adds some definite levity to a photoplay otherwise enshrouded - and comfortable - in darkness.
In a commentary in the New York Times, a real-life dancer bemoaned the relative lack of dancing in a movie that purports to be about the subject. But such expectations betray a misunderstanding about the director's intentions. Mr Aronofsky and company are not so much concerned about the leaps and turns, but with the horrible psychological and physical grind that underpin them. In this movie, dance is herself the ultimate mistress and very very few persons, of either sex, can measure up to or consistently satisfy her expectations.
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