Black Swan was one of the most anticipated movies of the 2010 Venice Film Festival (which is where I saw it), due to Darren Aronofsky's Golden Lion victory two years earlier for The Wrestler. After its premiere screening, on the opening night no less, it was met with conflicting reactions, ranging from sky-high praise to utter indifference, with some even calling it Aronofsky's worst picture alongside the hugely underrated The Fountain. Were such comments deserved? Absolutely not, but that doesn't mean Black Swan is a masterpiece either. In fact, it is fair to call it Aronofsky's least accomplished piece of work.
Set in the very familiar (from Aronofsky's films, that is) contemporary New York, Black Sawn is a dark, psychological thriller about two women: Nina (Natalie Portman) and Lily (Mila Kunis). The former is a young, promising member of a local ballet company, which the latter has recently joined. When company director Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel) announces his next project is going to be a revival of Swan Lake, he states that Nina is the ideal replacement for former star Beth MacIntyre (Winona Ryder), who is about to retire due to her age. However, Nina has to prove herself worthy of the double role of the fair and innocent Swan Queen and the deceptive, seductive Black Swan, or she will also be replaced. Fearing Lily might steal her thunder, Nina grows more paranoid by the day, while also tapping into her repressed sexuality to find her inner Black Swan.
Despite the alleged "indie" tag (the film is distributed by Fox Searchlight, whose parent company previously financed The Fountain), Black Swan is very much a studio effort, with a budget that, while relatively low (13 million dollars), is more than the cost of Pi, Requiem for a Dream and The Wrestler put together (The Fountain, on the other hand, remains Aronofsky's priciest picture). In fact, comparisons with The Wrestler - the director himself has said the two movies are companion pieces - highlight where Black Swan derails: whereas the Mickey Rourke-starring drama was a truly independent film, not to mention Aronofsky's best (and in no small measure because of his decision to let go of his usual directorial tricks), the ballet thriller is a compromise between a studio product - evident in the classic theme, akin to All About Eve, and the cast - and the filmmaker's personal vision, which reverts to Requiem for a Dream sensibilities for a story he didn't write himself.
Not that it's necessarily a bad thing: in its most inspired moments, Black Swan is an exquisite picture, pulsating with life and filled with indelible, nightmarish images that showcase the heroine's gradual descent into madness, all coordinated with beautiful choreography and impeccable musical cues. Unfortunately, the second half proves to be too weird for its own good, with a shift in tone that aims for visceral horror - think Polanski mixed with early Cronenberg - but gets caught up in some decidedly embarrassing moments, most notably the bulk of scenes involving a hammy Barbara Hershey as Nina's overbearing mother.
And yet it holds up until the end, and not just thanks to a lesbian sex scene that is bound to become a guilty pleasure lynch-pin. While the director's idiosyncrasies may get out of hand, his cast is fully committed and delivers solid work throughout (well, minus Hershey): Cassel is as enjoyably nasty as ever, and Kunis, who unexpectedly won the Mastroianni Award in Venice, finally sheds off the memory of Max Payne and American Psycho 2 and establishes herself as a promising dramatic actress. As for Portman, her schizophrenic role is one of the bravest she's ever tackled, and she remains a majestic, compelling presence for the duration of the movie, while Ryder nearly manages to steal her thunder with just a handful of scenes that ring scarily true: being herself in her late thirties during the shoot, the actress knows all too well what it's like to risk becoming a has-been, and gives an angry, unforgettable performance that should get her an Oscar.
Black Swan is a dazzling, spellbinding and frustrating picture. Tonally uneven and occasionally self-indulgent, it nevertheless manages to seduce and intrigue and, at its best, reminds us that Aronofsky is one of the most original and visionary names in contemporary American cinema.
Set in the very familiar (from Aronofsky's films, that is) contemporary New York, Black Sawn is a dark, psychological thriller about two women: Nina (Natalie Portman) and Lily (Mila Kunis). The former is a young, promising member of a local ballet company, which the latter has recently joined. When company director Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel) announces his next project is going to be a revival of Swan Lake, he states that Nina is the ideal replacement for former star Beth MacIntyre (Winona Ryder), who is about to retire due to her age. However, Nina has to prove herself worthy of the double role of the fair and innocent Swan Queen and the deceptive, seductive Black Swan, or she will also be replaced. Fearing Lily might steal her thunder, Nina grows more paranoid by the day, while also tapping into her repressed sexuality to find her inner Black Swan.
Despite the alleged "indie" tag (the film is distributed by Fox Searchlight, whose parent company previously financed The Fountain), Black Swan is very much a studio effort, with a budget that, while relatively low (13 million dollars), is more than the cost of Pi, Requiem for a Dream and The Wrestler put together (The Fountain, on the other hand, remains Aronofsky's priciest picture). In fact, comparisons with The Wrestler - the director himself has said the two movies are companion pieces - highlight where Black Swan derails: whereas the Mickey Rourke-starring drama was a truly independent film, not to mention Aronofsky's best (and in no small measure because of his decision to let go of his usual directorial tricks), the ballet thriller is a compromise between a studio product - evident in the classic theme, akin to All About Eve, and the cast - and the filmmaker's personal vision, which reverts to Requiem for a Dream sensibilities for a story he didn't write himself.
Not that it's necessarily a bad thing: in its most inspired moments, Black Swan is an exquisite picture, pulsating with life and filled with indelible, nightmarish images that showcase the heroine's gradual descent into madness, all coordinated with beautiful choreography and impeccable musical cues. Unfortunately, the second half proves to be too weird for its own good, with a shift in tone that aims for visceral horror - think Polanski mixed with early Cronenberg - but gets caught up in some decidedly embarrassing moments, most notably the bulk of scenes involving a hammy Barbara Hershey as Nina's overbearing mother.
And yet it holds up until the end, and not just thanks to a lesbian sex scene that is bound to become a guilty pleasure lynch-pin. While the director's idiosyncrasies may get out of hand, his cast is fully committed and delivers solid work throughout (well, minus Hershey): Cassel is as enjoyably nasty as ever, and Kunis, who unexpectedly won the Mastroianni Award in Venice, finally sheds off the memory of Max Payne and American Psycho 2 and establishes herself as a promising dramatic actress. As for Portman, her schizophrenic role is one of the bravest she's ever tackled, and she remains a majestic, compelling presence for the duration of the movie, while Ryder nearly manages to steal her thunder with just a handful of scenes that ring scarily true: being herself in her late thirties during the shoot, the actress knows all too well what it's like to risk becoming a has-been, and gives an angry, unforgettable performance that should get her an Oscar.
Black Swan is a dazzling, spellbinding and frustrating picture. Tonally uneven and occasionally self-indulgent, it nevertheless manages to seduce and intrigue and, at its best, reminds us that Aronofsky is one of the most original and visionary names in contemporary American cinema.