Starting with an almost unpolished demeanor, Black Swan slowly builds into an amazing movie experience, but then it just... Let's start from the beginning.
The opening shots depict the confidence of Darren Aronofsky, rugged, almost washed out and without visual substance, luring the viewer into a false sense of security. Slowly and surely, Black Swan builds into an intense and believable depiction of the unappreciated and misunderstood dedication that this discipline requires. The underlying force here is the lure to achieve perfection, the bait that ensnares the perfectionist into thinking that such a thing is possible, where fate brings one to the brink, the precarious edge, and then whispers into the hopeful ear that to jump is to own.
Natalie Portman is simply perfect in this role. Her fanatic drive for perfection would impress the most ardent of Nazis, a belief that life itself can be cheated through dogged preparation. The cracks of reality that occasionally slip through are splendidly ignored, and not until the end do we see just how bent this determination is. Mila Kunis chirps in a surprising good performance, the perfect counterpoint to Portman's Nina, dedicatedly unleashed and all the more perfect because of it. Vincent Cassel, what can I say? This guy owns every role. While he plays a rather unlikable character here, it is one that perfectly balances the ambiguity of his intentions. Is his core filled with ooze or is his love of the craft so intense that he will opportune any moment to drive artistic heights out of his dancers? Vying for top honors, the camera work goes head to head with Portman's performance. This is no surprise, but its dazzling effects, from the voyeuristic walking of Nina, a symbol of her journey that demonstrates her denouement through the camera's increasingly agitated ambling, to the agile capacity that the camera demonstrates, almost cavorting with the dancers themselves, was simply phenomenal.
The editing and direction was typical Aronofsky, his style an earmark of artistry, toned down when appropriate but ramped up to MTV speed for effect, as can be seen in the dance club scene.
The story was a superb take on the brutality that life has to offer this pursuit. These dancers are to both strive for perfection and yet must also live their lives; they live the perfect polar impossibility, for they must dedicate their every ounce of existence towards perfecting their craft but must also live life such that their performance is based on more than just sheer preparation. How these performers do no go postal is one of life's greater mysteries. As the story moves forward and to its end, as it builds up a momentum that is just barely tolerable, the viewer becomes strapped to the seat, electrocuted with anticipation as to how this thriller will execute its final moments, white knuckles all the way.
And then it ends, suddenly and without much fuss. This ending makes perfect sense, and I guess to some it might seem a brutal finality, but to me it was so lackluster that I could not help but feel cheated. I mean, really, that's it, that's the payoff? Maybe my expectations were too high, but in almost ever other moment of this showing I was suitably Wowed by the performance but then left unfulfilled, hollow even, as the credits rolled. Had I walked out just moments before the last scene I bet this would have been considered Oscar worthy, but instead I cannot help but feel spurned, and alone, a feeling that only a chocolate shake heavily spiked with Gran Marnier could fix. Merci.
Genruk of Evil Eye Reviews
The opening shots depict the confidence of Darren Aronofsky, rugged, almost washed out and without visual substance, luring the viewer into a false sense of security. Slowly and surely, Black Swan builds into an intense and believable depiction of the unappreciated and misunderstood dedication that this discipline requires. The underlying force here is the lure to achieve perfection, the bait that ensnares the perfectionist into thinking that such a thing is possible, where fate brings one to the brink, the precarious edge, and then whispers into the hopeful ear that to jump is to own.
Natalie Portman is simply perfect in this role. Her fanatic drive for perfection would impress the most ardent of Nazis, a belief that life itself can be cheated through dogged preparation. The cracks of reality that occasionally slip through are splendidly ignored, and not until the end do we see just how bent this determination is. Mila Kunis chirps in a surprising good performance, the perfect counterpoint to Portman's Nina, dedicatedly unleashed and all the more perfect because of it. Vincent Cassel, what can I say? This guy owns every role. While he plays a rather unlikable character here, it is one that perfectly balances the ambiguity of his intentions. Is his core filled with ooze or is his love of the craft so intense that he will opportune any moment to drive artistic heights out of his dancers? Vying for top honors, the camera work goes head to head with Portman's performance. This is no surprise, but its dazzling effects, from the voyeuristic walking of Nina, a symbol of her journey that demonstrates her denouement through the camera's increasingly agitated ambling, to the agile capacity that the camera demonstrates, almost cavorting with the dancers themselves, was simply phenomenal.
The editing and direction was typical Aronofsky, his style an earmark of artistry, toned down when appropriate but ramped up to MTV speed for effect, as can be seen in the dance club scene.
The story was a superb take on the brutality that life has to offer this pursuit. These dancers are to both strive for perfection and yet must also live their lives; they live the perfect polar impossibility, for they must dedicate their every ounce of existence towards perfecting their craft but must also live life such that their performance is based on more than just sheer preparation. How these performers do no go postal is one of life's greater mysteries. As the story moves forward and to its end, as it builds up a momentum that is just barely tolerable, the viewer becomes strapped to the seat, electrocuted with anticipation as to how this thriller will execute its final moments, white knuckles all the way.
And then it ends, suddenly and without much fuss. This ending makes perfect sense, and I guess to some it might seem a brutal finality, but to me it was so lackluster that I could not help but feel cheated. I mean, really, that's it, that's the payoff? Maybe my expectations were too high, but in almost ever other moment of this showing I was suitably Wowed by the performance but then left unfulfilled, hollow even, as the credits rolled. Had I walked out just moments before the last scene I bet this would have been considered Oscar worthy, but instead I cannot help but feel spurned, and alone, a feeling that only a chocolate shake heavily spiked with Gran Marnier could fix. Merci.
Genruk of Evil Eye Reviews
Tell Your Friends