Empty and vacuous writing, directing and acting; those are the kinder words I can summon twenty-four hours after viewing this POS. Hats off to the costume designer, and to the casting agent who booked that magnificent older ballet instructor. I promise to go back and retrieve her name for this review before I'm finished. They made it somewhat redeeming in a couple of cameos, however briefly.
Portman was lacking in the lead role. For any one of you who have experienced the aura surrounding a prima ballerina, then you know of what I speak. There is an elegance about them that transcends all cultural boundaries, a sense of grace divine if you will. Portman did nothing to present a case for herself. The Black Swan/White swan doppelganger had no believability and this viewer never allowed himself to become invested in this cartoonish melodrama.
This movie is the definition of pornography. As Justice Potter Stewart once said, "I'll know it when I see it." It lacked any shred of humanity. It strove for mystery and left the audience pining for the final credits. It was written with unskilled naivety, using passionless characters to tell repeatedly how they felt while telegraphing their actions.
This reminded me of a movie from the sixties called Elvira Madigan wherein the director tried to incorporate a tragic love story around one of Mozart's piano concertos. Much like that movie, this was a failed attempt at achieving recognition by association with a phenomenal work of art, Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.
Oh, yes, the dance mistress I believe was Marina Stavitskaya, a former Russian prima ballerina herself who teaches in NYC now. Look up the Manhattan Youth Ballet and on their website you will find her picture. One glimpse and you'll know what I meant about aura.
Portman was lacking in the lead role. For any one of you who have experienced the aura surrounding a prima ballerina, then you know of what I speak. There is an elegance about them that transcends all cultural boundaries, a sense of grace divine if you will. Portman did nothing to present a case for herself. The Black Swan/White swan doppelganger had no believability and this viewer never allowed himself to become invested in this cartoonish melodrama.
This movie is the definition of pornography. As Justice Potter Stewart once said, "I'll know it when I see it." It lacked any shred of humanity. It strove for mystery and left the audience pining for the final credits. It was written with unskilled naivety, using passionless characters to tell repeatedly how they felt while telegraphing their actions.
This reminded me of a movie from the sixties called Elvira Madigan wherein the director tried to incorporate a tragic love story around one of Mozart's piano concertos. Much like that movie, this was a failed attempt at achieving recognition by association with a phenomenal work of art, Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake.
Oh, yes, the dance mistress I believe was Marina Stavitskaya, a former Russian prima ballerina herself who teaches in NYC now. Look up the Manhattan Youth Ballet and on their website you will find her picture. One glimpse and you'll know what I meant about aura.