Perfection. Every artist hopes to achieve it, but so very few do. Spending years honing your craft to produce something that is the pinnacle of everything you have achieved, a testament to all your sacrifices and hardships. But the pursuit of perfection can be maddening, all consuming, and if not managed correctly, dangerous. When I was at the height of my dancing career, I would often go to extreme lengths to ensure that I was producing the highest quality work I possibly could, and that absolutely led to some destructive habits, thankfully nothing quite as severe as what is depicted in Darren Aronofsky’s 2010 psychological horror, Black Swan. It should come as no surprise that a horror film about dance struck a chord with me, but I feel as though my admiration for Black Swan goes far deeper than just its subject matter.
Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) is a ballet dancer at the New York City Ballet, who are preparing their next production, a dark interpretation of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Nina has dreams of playing the part of the Swan Queen, and her mastery of ballet technique lends her well to the role of the White Swan, but in order to secure the part she must also learn to exude sensuality and power so that she may also play the Black Swan. Infantilised by her mother, and facing stiff competition from a rival dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis), Nina begins her transformation from the graceful White Swan into the destructive Black Swan.
Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) is a ballet dancer at the New York City Ballet, who are preparing their next production, a dark interpretation of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. Nina has dreams of playing the part of the Swan Queen, and her mastery of ballet technique lends her well to the role of the White Swan, but in order to secure the part she must also learn to exude sensuality and power so that she may also play the Black Swan. Infantilised by her mother, and facing stiff competition from a rival dancer, Lily (Mila Kunis), Nina begins her transformation from the graceful White Swan into the destructive Black Swan.
I vividly remember the fanfare surrounding Black Swan on its release, and the confusion which many were struck with upon discovering that this film about ballet dancers and Swan Lake was actually a psychological horror film which doesn’t exactly shy away from graphic imagery. If you’re not expecting it, it can take you off guard, but I believe Black Swan may be one of the best cautionary tales of the pursuit for perfection that I have seen put to film.
Because the film is told from Nina’s point of view, so much of what she is experiencing is difficult to pin down as reality or a hallucination. She sees herself physically transforming into a swan over the course of the film, and the fact that other characters are able to see elements of this transformation makes you question the extent to which Nina is embodying the Black Swan in personality and how much of it is a genuine physical transformation.
Conversations that she has with certain characters who then deny having those interactions, it makes you wonder whether she made it all up or whether her fellow company members are trying to get inside her head and mess with her because they’re jealous. Despite the overt horror visibly on display, the context as to how much of it is reality is handled so subtly that you’ll constantly be left guessing how much of this is inside Nina’s head.
Portman delivers a gripping performance that entirely sells us on her fracturing state of mind. She’s in a near constant state of panic for the entire film, gradually falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of her mind and never for one moment does Portman feel like she’s holding back. Her ballet skills are also commendable with some superb technique on display, and whilst there is something to be said for the controversy surrounding the underappreciated body double (I mean Portman absolutely was not going on pointe), I think what we see that is absolutely her is worthy of praise because she does have some really fantastic technical ability on display.
Backed up with strong performances from Kunis and Vincent Cassel, Black Swan has some real clout in its performances. I’m surprised that Winona Ryder was in the film for so little time, especially given the importance of her character in the story, so I would have liked to have seen that fleshed out a bit more but that’s a personal problem of mine rather than an issue with the film itself.
Because the film is told from Nina’s point of view, so much of what she is experiencing is difficult to pin down as reality or a hallucination. She sees herself physically transforming into a swan over the course of the film, and the fact that other characters are able to see elements of this transformation makes you question the extent to which Nina is embodying the Black Swan in personality and how much of it is a genuine physical transformation.
Conversations that she has with certain characters who then deny having those interactions, it makes you wonder whether she made it all up or whether her fellow company members are trying to get inside her head and mess with her because they’re jealous. Despite the overt horror visibly on display, the context as to how much of it is reality is handled so subtly that you’ll constantly be left guessing how much of this is inside Nina’s head.
Portman delivers a gripping performance that entirely sells us on her fracturing state of mind. She’s in a near constant state of panic for the entire film, gradually falling deeper and deeper down the rabbit hole of her mind and never for one moment does Portman feel like she’s holding back. Her ballet skills are also commendable with some superb technique on display, and whilst there is something to be said for the controversy surrounding the underappreciated body double (I mean Portman absolutely was not going on pointe), I think what we see that is absolutely her is worthy of praise because she does have some really fantastic technical ability on display.
Backed up with strong performances from Kunis and Vincent Cassel, Black Swan has some real clout in its performances. I’m surprised that Winona Ryder was in the film for so little time, especially given the importance of her character in the story, so I would have liked to have seen that fleshed out a bit more but that’s a personal problem of mine rather than an issue with the film itself.
Visually, Black Swan does some really spectacular things. Most obviously to the average viewer is the clever use of scares hidden within the editing. Things like swapping out the faces of actors or having reflections not doing the same things as the person they are reflecting delivers some great freak out moments without drawing attention to them too much. If you’re paying attention, you’re sure to notice them, but even rewatching the film I’m noticing new scares that I don’t remember seeing the first time around because I’m looking at different areas of the frame.
Then there’s just the style of the film, shot on 8mm film it has this really fantastic grainy look to it, and the was darkness is used is really great. It gives the film this warm and textured appearance to it, it seems more alive because of this and allows for that distortion of reality to be even more disturbing.
But what I appreciate the most is how Aronofsky, cinematographer Matthew Libatique, and editor Andrew Weisblum understand how to shoot dance for film. A lot of films, especially dance films like the Step-Up franchise, shoot dance in all the wrong ways. Like with any film, as much work should be put into thinking about what’s happening outside of the frame as to what’s happening inside of it, and that’s where a lot of dance films trip up. They feel static, stale, and generally lifeless. Staged might even be an appropriate word, which is ironic considering that dance on stage is when it tends to feel most impactful. But with Black Swan the camera is right in the middle of the action as it too is a dancer in the ballet, twirling around, weaving in and out of the performers on stage, and almost always invading the personal space of the performers. It feels like you’re right in the thick of it, you can feel the heat, sweat, and breath of the performers and that’s a remarkable energy to convey through a projected image. Shots are chosen with careful consideration, never do you see everything, but only what the choreographer, Benjamin Millepied, really wants you to see. Because of that restricted view you see the dance for what it really is, not just a performance but a story or a conversation. You’re aware of everything going on around you, even though you can’t see it, and that is the mark of a truly great dance for film.
Black Swan is amazing. Whilst it could have very easily fallen into the trap of just adapting the story of Swan Lake to the big screen and try and awkwardly twist it into a horror narrative, it instead uses the Swan Lake story as an allegory for something considerably more sinister. With some great scares, excellent performances, and stunning visual design, Black Swan really ticks all of the boxes you could possibly want. It doesn’t require any knowledge of Swan Lake, or even of ballet to understand, but being familiar with both will undoubtedly give you more to walk away with. Perhaps my favourite of Aronofsky’s filmography.
Then there’s just the style of the film, shot on 8mm film it has this really fantastic grainy look to it, and the was darkness is used is really great. It gives the film this warm and textured appearance to it, it seems more alive because of this and allows for that distortion of reality to be even more disturbing.
But what I appreciate the most is how Aronofsky, cinematographer Matthew Libatique, and editor Andrew Weisblum understand how to shoot dance for film. A lot of films, especially dance films like the Step-Up franchise, shoot dance in all the wrong ways. Like with any film, as much work should be put into thinking about what’s happening outside of the frame as to what’s happening inside of it, and that’s where a lot of dance films trip up. They feel static, stale, and generally lifeless. Staged might even be an appropriate word, which is ironic considering that dance on stage is when it tends to feel most impactful. But with Black Swan the camera is right in the middle of the action as it too is a dancer in the ballet, twirling around, weaving in and out of the performers on stage, and almost always invading the personal space of the performers. It feels like you’re right in the thick of it, you can feel the heat, sweat, and breath of the performers and that’s a remarkable energy to convey through a projected image. Shots are chosen with careful consideration, never do you see everything, but only what the choreographer, Benjamin Millepied, really wants you to see. Because of that restricted view you see the dance for what it really is, not just a performance but a story or a conversation. You’re aware of everything going on around you, even though you can’t see it, and that is the mark of a truly great dance for film.
Black Swan is amazing. Whilst it could have very easily fallen into the trap of just adapting the story of Swan Lake to the big screen and try and awkwardly twist it into a horror narrative, it instead uses the Swan Lake story as an allegory for something considerably more sinister. With some great scares, excellent performances, and stunning visual design, Black Swan really ticks all of the boxes you could possibly want. It doesn’t require any knowledge of Swan Lake, or even of ballet to understand, but being familiar with both will undoubtedly give you more to walk away with. Perhaps my favourite of Aronofsky’s filmography.