Darren Aronofsky is no stranger to the deep, dark, and weird. With the exception of The Fountain, Aronofsky’s films dare you to never look away, presenting the viewer with uncomfortable, too-real stories that stem from the darkest aspects of humanity. What Aronofsky has discovered, and what he shares with his viewers, is that from these places comes the greatest chance of redemption. That is certainly true in Black Swan.Aronofsky’s tale of intrigue and madness in the world of the ballet is as haunting and beautiful as anything you’ll see at the theater this year. The director’s attention to detail and the performances he gets out of his cast create a world that is almost unnervingly believable, even as it spirals into a dangerous unreality where nothing is absolute. Aronofsky returns to the gritty realism he employed so well in The Wrestler, but the style is embodied here in a completely different way. Black Swan possesses elegance befitting a prima ballerina, even as the film’s protagonist, Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) teeters on the brink of madness and finally, inevitably jumps. The film’s beauty, even grace, accented by Matthew Libatique’s musical cinematography and masterful editing, is undermined by the darkness that haunts Nina, the same darkness that will follow the viewer home after the credits roll. (The score from Aronofsky regular Clint Mansell will likely do the same.)
Not since Mulholland Drive has a film taken such liberties with the distinction between reality and fantasy. Nearly every scene could be real, imagined, or a combination of the both, creating a film that is endlessly rewatchable (I can’t wait to go back for a second viewing) and impressively subjective. The viewer can decide just how deep Nina’s madness goes, as well as assign Lily (Mila Kunis) an appropriate degree of villainy. It’s a strange, liberating experience; Aronofsky shows without telling, letting the viewer participate in the film in a way that is exceedingly uncommon in today’s cinema.
However, Aronofsky doesn’t stop at the deft combination of the real and imagined within the world of the film. As Portman dances the black swan’s part, she is twirled out, away from her partner, and her crimson eyes look straight into the camera. She stares right into the viewer’s eyes. It’s more than a subtle crack in the fourth wall: it’s as if the fourth wall never existed. It’s an instance of the film erasing the line between the film and our reality, suggesting an uncomfortable possibility that makes the scene even more unsettling. It's brilliant writing and direction through and through.
Of course, none of this would be possible without Portman’s incredible performance. Not since Daniel Day-Lewis’s work in There Will Be Blood has an actor so disappeared into a role. Portman embodies Nina in every aspect, from the fragile emotionality to the demanding physical feats required to accurately portray a first-class dancer. Nina is driven by a desire to be perfect, and this pursuit is ultimately her undoing, as she allows herself to be consumed by her part in the ballet. It’s ironic when considering Portman’s work on the film, as she delivers a perfect performance, and what’s more, she does so with an uncanny ease. She’s natural, beautiful, and believable; every step of her transformation works and is amazing to behold.
Portman’s supporting cast is superb. Mila Kunis’s Lily makes a compelling rival, especially as so much of her character is a reflection of Nina’s warped perception following the news that she’s gotten the part. Kunis is playful, sexy, and dangerous, creating a perfect foil for Nina, so serious and paranoid. Winona Ryder represents another force to be reckoned with: she plays the company’s former star who isn’t ready to give up the spotlight yet. While Ryder only appears in a few scenes throughout the film but her presence is ubiquitous; it is her character’s legacy that drives Nina to devote herself too fully to her part.
As the company’s licentious leader, Vincent Cassel is charming and repellent, intuitive and lustful. His character’s absurd, even inappropriate requests of Nina sound natural coming from him, and the effectiveness of these “assignments” is another of the film’s disturbing elements.
Barbara Hershey also impresses as Nina’s mother, Erica, who represents both Nina’s support system and an omen of what Nina could ultimately come to. Nina doesn’t want her career to be like Erica’s, which never amounted to more than a dancer in the ensemble. Hershey is the voice of reason in the film, the only such voice, and it’s heart-breaking to see her character ignored and insulted as Nina revolts against her relative innocence and the possibility of a disappointing future.
Even if the film’s climax seems like a foregone conclusion, it is no less shocking because of it. Nina’s amazing transformation, which plays out as she dances the black swan’s devastatingly beautiful part, paves the road to redemption for the character. Only by going through the darkness is Nina able to confront the demons that have haunted her through her own doing. She invites the malicious beast within her and then finds redemption by laying it to rest. It’s a gorgeous, poignant ending to a journey that straddles multiple realities. Finally, there’s one thing to be sure of, one truth that does not need to be interpreted extensively, at least in its basest essence: the white swan jumps to its death, believing the prince has made the wrong choice. Little does she realize that the choice was actually hers.
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