Movie | Director: Darren Aronofsky |Starring: Natalie Portman, Vincent Cassel, Mila Kunis
By Annabelle Ang-Bok
A possible definition of art is that which, in the hands of a master, steps from the commonplace into the transcendent, and Black Swan, however clichéd or predictable its plot, proves itself a work of art. Darren Aronofsky’s demented fantasy of physical and mental sadomasochism is not just a psychological drama about an immature girl’s self-destructive pursuit of ballet perfection; it’s a not-quite-invitation to descend with her into the darkness of obsession.
But perhaps I give Aronofsky too much credit. Even if the opening scenes of Natalie Portman’s straightlaced, desperate-for-a-breakthrough Nina Sayers don’t clue you in to the inevitable end, you’ll probably get it when Vincent Cassel’s Thomas Leroy announces (very early in the film) his new (and probably impossible, in real life) version of Swan Lake. Also, there is a slight B-grade movie feel to some parts of the film. Aronofsky also borrows blatantly from many different sources in a pretty obvious manner, and his portrayal of the ballet world is decidedly one-sided.
Still, Portman’s blindingly intense and painfully convincing performance draws up memories of my own perfectionist tendencies. Watching Nina claw her way from desperate desire through neurosis, paranoia and hallucinatory psychosis, I cannot help but think also of myself and the many people I know who have struggled with perfectionist tendencies in at least one area in their lives. While our cases are far from the extreme example that is Nina’s, the sense of terror and horror is very real—and very tricky to circumvent. And then, of course, there is also the troublesome issue of the relationships we inevitably have and do not fully understand or trust.
Black Swan ends tragically, exactly as expected—but the one thought that held as I left the theatre, in spite of the lingering echoes of Nina’s worst hallucinations running through my mind’s eye, was a powerful sense of relieved gratefulness. Exaggerated tale it might be, but Nina’s twisted pursuit of “excellence” is for many of us a case of “there but for the grace of God go I”. It certainly is the case for me—and I am reminded oh-so-sweetly once again of why we need never fall so deeply into such obsessions, need never burn so viciously with a need to prove ourselves, need never fear our potentials (no matter how dark these may be)… because of the One who has paid the price in blood to save us from ourselves.

