Black Swan concerns up and coming ballerina Nina Sayers in her endeavor to dance as both the pure-as-snow White Swan and her evil vampish twin the Black Swan, as is traditional for the leading lady of Swan Lake. The film's story succeeds in how firmly it adheres to this premise while still taking it to fascinating places. This is perhaps one of the greatest examples on film of internal conflict, much of which is the result of it trying to fool the audience into thinking the conflict is external, as is more typical for films. Without spoiling anything, Nina truly is her own worst enemy; the competing ballerina Lily, the hard to please director, even her domineering mother, debatably the source of her inner turmoil; none of these characters are trying to hurt her, much less sabotage her role. However they appear to be because that's how Nina perceives their actions. She has fears, she has desires, yet rather than act upon either, she sees one of these characters thrusting both at her, often literally, when the fact of the matter is that these people are really her most valuable benefactors, or at least they would be if she would let them be. This film doesn't need any more oscars than it's going to get already, but if it should win one thing- other than the inevitable best actress for Ms. Portman- it's best script.
It often seems that many films, good and bad, seem to be reflections of their own stories. In much the same way that Nina suffers because she is a cold, logical, perfectionist who's been forced into a career that is all about passion, Black Swan suffers because it takes a brilliant story about inner conflict and identity issues, and is sure that such issues are matters of the mind rather than the (metaphorical) heart. Setting aside my insistence that all films should focus on emotion, (not exclusive from, but more so than intellect) what we have here is a story about feeling like you have one purpose in life and everyone is out to get you, and yet I never once felt a hint of paranoia. I felt fear, or more accurately suspense, and that is one area where I feel Aronofsky shows his talent, but for a piece that's supposed to be about beauty and tragedy I was not at all moved. It was not an emotion-less experience, but it was an experience that emphasized intellect, asking you to think about Nina's situation but never really letting you into it.
One of the main reasons for this is cinematography: the camera work seems to be a subtler version of mumble-core, or neo-realism, or whatever word for "no tripods allowed," you prefer. This style is a pet-peeve of mine, but when it serves the art I can set aside my personal distaste. Swan however is completely unsuited to this style of cinematography. Yes it's a realistic film, but ironically, for a film that comes off as emotionally lacking, the camera should behave in a less visceral manner. Not only is this a stylistic choice that is more distracting than more subtle, traditional camera techniques, but as personal and up close as the story is, in order to better grasp that we need to really feel the cold detached nature of the less freaky scenes. The story may be internal and emotional, but it concerns a character who is denying their emotions and doesn't truly know themselves, and the camera needs to put us in that distant spot. Distance has a feeling, and it can be pretty strong.
Black Swan is one of the most fascinating things you can watch play out on a silver screen, but with a great movie, there is no screen. A great movie is a movie where all the elements are in alignment, where every aspect of the film is tailor made to make the viewer feel that what they are seeing is happening to them, or at least that they are right in the middle of the proceedings. The reason Black Swan is only a good movie is because it does exactly what Nina does when she dances: it focuses on the tiny details and perfects them, but never really feels the heart of what they are all about, and consequently neither does the audience, as much as they may think about them.
