Dark, infectious, and one hell of a ride. One of the year's best. Deal with it. 4/4

Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan is something of a hallucinogenic fairy tale about madness, transformation, and the ballet.  Being an Aronofsky film, however, the film is less sweet and fluffy, and more akin to the Brothers Grimm style: dark, creepy, and grotesque.

On the surface, Black Swan looks like a return to form for Aronofsky; the film features the reckless camera work of Pi, the expressionistic anxiety of Requiem for a Dream, and the ambiguous reality of The Fountain.  Yet the film also features the psychological trials and tribulations, albeit in a very different direction, of an athlete/performer similar to The Wrestler.  In this sense, Black Swan is not so much a return to anything for Aronofsky, but a culmination of the director’s work up to this point.

Black Swan follows ballerina Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman), who is chosen to play the Swan Princess in Swan Lake.  However, the ballets’ director (Vincent Cassel) decides that he wants Nina to not only portray the pristine White Swan, but also the role of the Black Swan, the formers more seductive, swan fatale look alike.

Although Nina is a phenomenal dancer with impeccable technique, she is as pure as the driven snow, and the role of the Black Swan requires a raw sensuality our virginal ballerina lacks.  Naturally, Nina needs to release her inner vamp, and in doing so, taps into a primal darkness that has been cooped up for far too long which triggers a number of disturbing transformations, both mental and physical.

Black Swan is no doubt Aronofsky’s most expressionistic film to date. Aronofsky trades in objectivity with a hyper-awareness for paranoia, anxiety and reckless self-discovery, which isn’t to say Aronofsky abandons reality entirely.  Much of the tension of Black Swan is enveloped by its portrayal of the ballet world, and Aronofsky goes to great measures to truly bring that world to life.

The film often looks more like a documentary than a slick Hollywood film; the grainy film and handheld camera techniques make the viewing experience more tangible and engaging.  There are several scenes that take place during dance rehearsals, but instead of sitting back and watching the dancers practice, the camera dances with the characters with enough vigor to make filmgoers feel little dizzy and out of breathe.  Clint Mansell’s score, which contains arrangements of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake, permeates virtually every scene, and makes it almost impossible not to be obsessed with the upcoming performance.  Thus, we, not unlike the dancers, are waiting anxiously for opening.

Of course, it is the physical transformations in the film that are the most wild examples of expressionism, not to mention the thing that generated the most buzz prior to the film’s release.  These transformations, however, are not to be taken literally, for they only represent Nina’s inner metamorphosis, but whether or not these transformations are “real” is beside the point; they are frightening to watch, and effectively warp the film’s sense of realism without disrupting the ultimate narrative.    

The credit for these nightmarish changes does not lie entirely with the director; Natalie Portman gives one of the most involving, fearless performances of her career.  Portman surrenders herself entirely to the role physically, emotionally, and even sexually.  The world of Black Swan presented to us belongs to Nina, and Portman manages to, both, carry the film while surrender herself as its victim at the same time.  Furthermore, Portman portrays her character’s inner transformation with such great subtlety that the external changes serve the internal ones, and not the other way around.

Just as Black Swan relies on Nina’s own internal troubles, there are several external forces that appear in the film as supporting archetypical characters.  Although these characters have predetermined functions, it would be foolish to dismiss them as flat or uninteresting.  Mila Kunis plays a rival dancer who embodies the very raw, uninhibited sexuality that Nina lacks and needs to discover, and Kunis shows us yet again that she is far more than “the spoiled teen from “That Seventies Show.””

Vincent Cassel plays the proverbial sleazy mentor, which manifests itself here as Nina’s director.  This is the kind of role we’ve seen several times before, and Cassel seems to be the go-to “sleazy European” character in other films, yet he exhibits such a powerful presence that he goes above and beyond serving a function.

The most disturbing, shudder-inducing role in the film belongs to Barbara Hershey, who plays Nina’s overbearing, never-was ex-ballerina of a mother.  Although this isn’t the first time we have seen a horrid stage mother, Hershey plays her with a subtlety that nearly rivals Portman.  Every action and abuse her character exhibits is passive, yet it is the kind of passive that masks a greater kind of crazy and desperate interdependence.

As of late, Black Swan has become one of the most debated films since Inception; people either love it or are extremely annoyed by the film and its success.  Several people have brushed the film off as a campy B-movie; I read something that referred to it as “Showgirls for people who read The New Yorker.”  A clever, pithy zinger, yes (one that belongs in The New Yorker), but Showgirls, it ain’t.

The B-movie moniker makes sense, although the film hardly possesses the tongue-in-cheek humor inherent to camp.  Black Swan, however, is something of a genre film that features archetypical characters, clichés, and expected plot points; one could even label it a “horror-farce” if they wanted to sound vaguely condescending. The film is also unmistakably exploitative in its aesthetic style, in its emotional range, its shock value, and its treatment of the lead character.

So maybe Black Swan is a B-movie, but my question is this: does it make any difference?  Are A-pictures superior in quality to Bs?  Not particularly.  And why is it the Internet film geeks that are crying foul, citing its B-movie tendencies?  These are usually the same people that criticize the mainstream for ignoring the legitimacy of such films in the first place. Its only crime as a ‘B’, I suppose, is that it has received well-deserved critical acclaim in its own time, which ruins the fun of liking a film for the sake of being hip and ironic, rather than for the sake of film itself.

Be it a ‘B’, an ‘A’, or something in between, Black Swan is a phenomenal film.  There is something so vivid and mesmeric about the film, and these sensations linger on in the psyche long after the lights flicker back on in the auditorium.  A film so resonate is not the result of anything ironic or superficial; its damn fine filmmaking.

Midnight Run is not an obscure movie, but its starting to get old enough that most audiences may not have heard of it.  And yet, there’s beginning to be some interest in a sequel to the film in the past few months.  Because I enjoy Charles Grodin in everything I’ve seen him in (you may know him from Beethoven, Dave, or So I Married an Axe Murderer), and it’s hard to miss with DeNiro, I decided to check it out.  The plot is very simple, it’s a road buddy movie in which DeNiro plays Jack Walsh, a bounty hunter hired to track down Charles Grodin’s white collar criminal and bring him across the country.  Shennanigans ensue.  Not only is the setup elegantly simple, but the film does a fantastic job of creating big stakes and lots of conflict.  After acquiring Grodin, DeNiro’s character has not one, not two, not three, but four different groups trying to track him down and get Grodin for their own very different desires and needs.  Complex character motivations from both DeNiro and Grodin’s characters really push them against each other nicely and create interesting dynamics alongside the different groups who are after them.

But the real charm of this film is the chemistry between the two leads.  The dynamic between the hard-ass Robert DeNiro and the overly well balanced and put-together Charles Grodin is just, to put it simply, entertaining.  Robert DeNiro does his job comedically but I think it’s Charles Grodin that really makes this pairing shine.  He usually is relegated to more supportive roles, but here he has a whole movie with which to pester his straight man.  And which really is the straight man?  Charles Grodin normally takes that role but here he has all the good lines.  There’s something about his ability with facial expressions that can get laughs on that alone, they’re not silly or over the top, but they manage to express a world of disapproval with just his eyes and a few wrinkles in his face.  A scene in which he imitates a government official is a particular highlight as he brings his stern sense of comedy forth.

This is a chase movie in every sense of the word and they find a lot to do.  At 130 minutes I was worried that the jig would wear out its welcome a little early, but, aside from the usual bits of ADD on my part (it seems to be getting bad of late) I had no problem sitting down and taking in the full duration of the film.  There’s plenty of twists and turns (not shocking, but logical and dynamic) to keep the plot going and it comes to a relatively climactic conclusion that keeps the focus on the characters.  It should be said that this is more than just a comedy, it’s also a well executed thriller as well.  Props also go to the supporting players, particularly Joe Pantoliano, who I always enjoy seeing, and Dennis Farina, who curses funnier than, well, anyone.

Those just looking for a fun entertaining night of movie watching tend to go straight for the new release wall, thinking that watching older films can be a chore.  That’s not the case even remotely with this film, I had a really good time watching it and anyone who appreciates a good comedy with some great acting and good character chemistry will too.  Check it out if you can find it.

As always, I’ll stay brief with my synopsis.  Di Caprio plays Teddy Daniels, a federal marshal who, alongside his partner Chuck (Mark Ruffalo) goes to an island to investigate the disappearance of a patient from a highly secure mental institution for the criminally insane.  And let the eerie events ensue. Scorsese takes this opportunity to really take the premise and shoot the film using techniques that might have been more commonly used fifty years ago, while still having a completely modern feel to the film.  What grabbed me about the film right from the beginning was the mood and tone of the film, set brilliantly by the score, which begins ominously with even the first logos and titles of the film.  Throughout the film from this point on, this amazing mix of tension, paranoia, and mystery wafts through the screen with amazing consistency.  Every scene carries something that makes you feel creepy and weird but is presented in a way that made me smile with its brilliance rather than become physically anxious.  The film even manages to take things that might otherwise hinder a film, and use them in favor of creating a feel for the scene and a reminder of films past.  When the film gets expositional, as it does often in the first act, it still feels like we’re being let in on an incredible secret every time we’re told something new.  This is partially due to the earnest attitude of all the actors involved, but even more credit goes to Scorsese for making these scenes feel interesting through the fluid use of his camera, and the direction.  Each example of overly expositional scenes feels like a call back to the way thrillers used to be made, but only the best, most prime examples.  In fact, when presented with various items of information or settings, I often was very aware that these were being set up for later use, but they were presented in such a way that made me excited with anticipation for their return.  I’ve heard Hitchcock’s name and the noir label thrown around a lot regarding this film, and both are apt, but neither alone or together do they fully capture how this movie feels.

Noir or Hitchcock, who gives a shit, it's beautiful.

The look of this film is simply incredible.  It’s dark and confining, and yet perfectly composed and displays a wide range of tones and colors.  Many of the scenes have a distinctly surreal look to them. One example is the back projected skyline behind a boat used in the first scene, another callback to Hitchcockian filmmaking, but redesigned with modern technology in a way that makes the technique feel real while simultaneously unsettling in its perfection.  The art direction and production of the film is simply gorgeous and extremely stylistic.  It does loads to contribute to the tone of the film, and it kept me glued to the screen.  The mental facility itself just looks haunted as soon as you see it, and that’s before you even get to explore the intriguing variety of the different wards, one of which has the air of a foreboding castle.  Several dream sequences also make use of modern technology while harkening back to an older style of storytelling.  And while I generally find dream sequences to get in the way of more organic forms of storytelling, Scorsese finds a way here to make them both integral and poetic without stepping over the line that would make them feel over-the-top or unnatural.

To say nothing is as it seems would be a contradiction, because it seems like nothing is as it seems.

It’s no spoiler to reiterate that this film takes place on an island, nor is it to reiterate the way that this traps the characters involved within a confined set of locations.  As the story progresses, unsurprisingly, more forces converge to keep them isolated from the world.  This type of setting has always appealed to me, there’s something about putting a character in a situation in which they have no escape and seeing how they act that really gets at the center of who they are.  Not only this, but it forces confrontations between them and the other characters in the story, and each of these interactions reveals even more about the characters involved, particularly since character is revealed primarily (and more subtly) through action.  Shutter Island does this excellently, to say the least, using it’s setting in overdrive.  Not only are there physical things to be afraid of here (cliffs, caves, insanely powerful storms), but the world as a whole also presents a constant paranoia for the characters involved.  Dynamics of the Cold War and the atom bomb hang over the proceedings, adding that extra pound of fear into their lives.

The characters that surround Di Caprio’s Teddy may seem archetypal on first glance, but each of them has some sort of twist on the traditional take that makes them feel unique.  The actors, all top-notch, flesh them out even with as little as a scene, making them feel like real presences while once again calling back to the types of characters who would inhabit a 50’s thriller or even a 30’s/40’s noir.  Mark Ruffalo is reliable as always, and Ben Kingsley uses his traditional combination of charm, authority, and slightly offsetting down-notes.  As with any story involving a mental institution there’s a variety of creepy patients, and some moments that are outright disturbing as well.  Many of the actors that appear in the film were a pleasant surprise to me, so I will refrain from mentioning them here, but suffice it to say that even the players with only one scene have powerful effects on the viewer and Di Caprio’s character.  Consistency of tone and quality between actors is a difficult thing to achieve, and I credit Scorsese’s considerable experience and talent with the fact that this works as a cohesive unit, especially because it is not striving for a naturalistic feel.

I was enthralled with this movie every second of its considerable running time.  It was a breeze to watch and simultaneously powerfully affecting as well.  Had it been released last year as planned, it would’ve been one of my favorites of the year.  As it is, it’s the best thing to be released so far this year, and will probably remain amongst the top films even as the calendar comes to a close.  If you like dramas, thrillers, mysteries, or suspense even a little, please go see this movie.  I may see it twice.  It’s at this point that my review ends in my mind.  But if you have seen the film, AND LET ME REPEAT, ONLY IF YOU’VE ALREADY SEEN THE FILM.  I do have a few more opinions I’d like to get across.

ONCE MORE, ONLY CONTINUE READING FROM THIS POINT IF YOU’VE ALREADY SEEN SHUTTER ISLAND.

Don't read what's after this image if you haven't seen the film.

There was a point as I was watching this film that the ending felt disappointing to me.  As a whole it was going exactly where I expected it to, and where the entire duration of the film, I was hoping it would not go.  I was looking for something more creative and different, and not a reiteration of so many films involving mental illness.  Unfortunately, my prediction did come to pass.  But then something amazing happened.  Scorsese proved me wrong.  He took that ending of the film and did two things with it.  He created what may be the most powerful scene in the film, a slightly melodramatic but immensely affecting flashback scene, one that worked for me completely.  This thing is devastating, and while it indulges in a few cliché shots it’s so beautiful and well done that I didn’t care in the least.  The second thing that Scorsese (with great help from Di Caprio in this case) did was add a very intriguing coda to the film as Teddy has his final talk with the employees of the institution (on the steps).  This created a twist on the concept that was really interesting to me, felt different, and also perfectly true to all the characters involved.  It also had more than a few things to say thematically, pushing this movie out of the generic thriller zone.  And finally, despite originally desiring a different, more action-packed outcome, I cannot as a screenwriter figure out a way for this to work in a logical manner.  Despite everyone else’s foul cries, the ending works for me, and I’m disappointed to hear that the last twenty minutes of the film ruined some people’s experiences.  Scorsese’s created something both great and entertaining here, and I’m so glad I got to see this film.

13 Tzameti
Year: 2005
Directed by: Géla Babluani
Written by: Géla Babluani
Starring: George Babluani
Genre: Thriller

Benn and James’ reviews and rebuttals follow after the jump.