BLACK SWAN

This movie is seriously messed-up.  But in a good way.

Natalie Portman is a lock for a best-actress Oscar nomination, and has a pretty solid shot at winning, thanks to her riveting turn as a tormented ballerina named Nina in this dark, twisted dramatic thriller from director Darren Aronofsky. Veering towards his Requiem For a Dream in terms of tone, the film is weird, wild and hyperkinetic, with enough unsettling imagery to keep your subconscious wide awake long after the closing credits roll.

Nina has talent, but she’s also a nervous, over-stressed, insecure girl perpetually tiptoeing on the cusp of completely losing her s**t. So, when smarmy ballet director Thomas (Vincent Cassel) casts her as the lead in the company’s avant-garde production of Swan Lake, her already tenuous grasp on sanity begins to slip all the more. It doesn’t help that her smothering stage mother (Barbara Hershey, borrowing from the Jessica Lange School of the Unhinged) is, herself, bordering on crazy, and that the troupe’s newest hire – seductive dancer Lily (Mila Kunis) – seems to get a kick of toying with Nina’s mind.

Bit by bit, Nina unravels under the pressure and demands of being the star. It’s something she’s always wanted but, once she gets it, she realizes she actually has no idea what to do with it, and her downward spiral is something of a surreal commentary on the pursuit of fame. Namely, that it can be a grisly, unpleasant journey that’s punishing both physically and emotionally.

I will admit that, outside of The Professional, I’ve never really found Portman to be a terribly strong screen presence, but she commands every frame in this film. Frail and delicate, she commits to the character 110% and, as a result, is fully believable as a young woman buckling under the epic weight of her own expectations. It’s a bit like watching an open wound flit from scene to scene, and her supporting players – who snipe and scrape and swat at her at she goes – are equally intense and effective. The only exception is Winona Ryder, who’s wooden and awkward and horribly miscast as a former ballet diva enraged at being replaced by a younger dancer. I’m not sure what movie she thought she was making, but it’s clearly not the same one everyone else is in.

Aronofsky crafts the film like an ever-amplifying psychotic melodrama careening wildly to its crescendo, and the ride is as freaky as it is exhilarating. It’s definitely unlike any other film I’ve seen this year, and it makes for a fantastic alternative-viewing option if you find yourself tiring of fluffier, big-budget Hollywood fare at the cinema this holiday season.