Woove staff writer Neel Patel reviews Darren Aronofsky's thriller Black Swan (2010).

Horror movies have nothing on the fright induced by Requiem for a Dream (2000; dir. Darren Aronofsky). While nearly all horror movies rely on people’s fears of the supernatural and unseen, Aronofsky preyed on the tangible, open fears manifesting just around the block.  Of course, most people don’t see themselves as doomed heroin addicts like the characters in the movie.  But what about Ellen Burstyn’s character? Her only crime, wanting to be thin enough to relive her youth for just one day, resulted in her succumbing to a psychosis derived from addiction to weigh-loss amphetamines. At the end, each character’s lives spiral out into doom, and the sheer reality makes the movie scarier than any horror movie could be.

 For all those reasons, Requiem for a Dream has been to this date the scariest movie I’ve ever seen, and the only movie that’s ever given me trouble sleeping.  That is, until I saw Black Swan (2010; dir. Darren Aronofsky).  If Requiem for a Dream explored drug-induced psychosis and ruin, Black Swan delves into the desire for artistic perfection and its toll on sanity.

The movie centers on a ballet company preparing for a new season. The first show is to be a production of the famous Swan Lake (quick [butchered] summary:  by curse of a sorcerer, a princess is a swan by day and a human by night, and the spell can only be broken by the love of a prince.  Unfortunately, a twin version of the princess (a “black” swan”) seduces the prince and the spell remains unbroken.  The princess kills herself).  The spin of this particular production is that the roles of the innocent and stately Swan Queen and the sensual and wild Black Swan are to be played by the same ballerina, for a “visceral and real” version.

That ballerina is Nina, played by Natalie Portman, who appears and acts more like a child than a woman: timid, soft-spoken, and emotionally and socially withdrawn from nearly everyone else. Nina dedicates her life solely to her art, through all the vomit, blood, and broken flesh that amounts to her sacrifice.  This is not a movie for the squeamish.  As a performer, Nina’s technique is set in a controlled form, and while she excels in being the Swan Queen, she has trouble letting loose and becoming the untamed Black Swan.  As the pressure increases, she deteriorates mentally.  Portman’s performance exceeds all expectations, using every subtlety to create a character that is captivating even in stillness.

To add to the unnerving demands is an outstanding supporting cast that feed tension into each scene with every syllable uttered.  Thomas, played by Vincent Cassel, the company director, behaves with such callous that makes it hard to tell whether he is more concerned about the quality of the dance or taking advantage of Nina.  Lily, played by Mila Kunis, plays Nina’s rival dancer, dancing and behaves like a foil to our protagonist.  Nina’s mother Erica, played by Barbera Hershey, is a controlling, smothering parent whose on-screen actions will either yield giggles or squirms (or both).  The darker side of the ballet world comes fills the screen with such a cast.

Usual of his style, Aronofsky pushes the limits of this film, pushing the audience off from the safety of our seats into the frenzied ballet stage itself, forcing us into Nina’s tormented mind.  The strange close-ups and cinematography (emphasized by the fact that I was sitting in nearly the front row) drew me into the anxiety built as the movie progressed.  As a journey into the psychological darkness of high art, Black Swan is surely haunting portrayal example perfection.