Friday, December 31, 2010
If you (and by this I mean the non-existent readers I make this shout out to) are wondering why I decided to suddenly return to this blog with a stream of reviews of movies released since last summer, it is because a. I just remembered I had created this blog, in all honesty and b. I have these reviews from the column in my local newspaper in which they are printed. Now you can enjoy them without knowing anything about my column in the paper. I hope you enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. (And sorry that they seem to be in reverse, date-wise.)
The Town
“The Town,” Ben Affleck’s latest directorial endeavor, shows a kind of craftsmanship that’s been hiding in Affleck behind the likes of “Paycheck.” In “The Town,” Affleck succeeds both as an actor and a director. Part of you is a little peeved that he didn’t have the decency to expose his excellence in recent years. The other part is too entertained to care.
The movie, set in Charlestown, centers on Doug MacRay (Ben Affleck), the kind of upstanding criminal that movie audiences love. MacRay and his cronies, which include Jeremy Renner as James, MacRay’s trigger-happy best friend, rob banks and the first robbery we witness culminates in their kidnapping of the bank manager, Claire (Rebecca Hall). She is later set free and for a time, the men concern themselves with their cash. However, MacRay finds himself falling for the quietly beautiful and damaged Claire. Of course, she doesn’t know he’s the one of the men who kidnapped her.
On the other side of things is Jon Hamm as Special Agent Adam Frawley, an FBI agent who’s made it his mission to put our antiheroes behind bars.
Affleck and Hall are both appealing and there’s a subtle honesty in their courtship that makes the love story at the heart of “The Town” affecting. You know where they’re headed but that doesn’t make the journey any less engaging.
Renner is quickly proving to be an actor to keep your eye on. The possibility for overstatement in his performance is huge, but Renner hints at just enough vulnerability to let you know that James is human. Hamm, on the other hand, is given a thankless part. Morality has never looked or sounded this repugnant.
The script, co-written by Affleck as well, is tense and smart, deftly mixing action and romance in a way that is unexpectedly refreshing. The action scenes are well filmed, raising your pulse without compromising the movie’s grittiness to become something out of a John Woo film. There’s hard-earned suspense in the proceedings and even with a lack of gunplay, Affleck mines some wonderful anxiety in his scenarios.
One scene, in which the fighting Irish tattoo on the back of James’s neck proves to be an almost dangerous tell-all, is unbearably suspenseful. Affleck doesn’t monitor the scene for a time and his lack of control gives the scene a terrifying sense of possibility.
If I haven’t heaped enough praise on Affleck yet, allow me to commend his directorial skills as well. He lends the film a needed sense of plausibility and he gets close to his actors, wanting us to care about them. The only time his vision gets away from him is toward the end, when the movie gets a little sappy. But the film’s too quick and lean to let you dwell on its shortcomings. Of which there are few.
The movie, set in Charlestown, centers on Doug MacRay (Ben Affleck), the kind of upstanding criminal that movie audiences love. MacRay and his cronies, which include Jeremy Renner as James, MacRay’s trigger-happy best friend, rob banks and the first robbery we witness culminates in their kidnapping of the bank manager, Claire (Rebecca Hall). She is later set free and for a time, the men concern themselves with their cash. However, MacRay finds himself falling for the quietly beautiful and damaged Claire. Of course, she doesn’t know he’s the one of the men who kidnapped her.
On the other side of things is Jon Hamm as Special Agent Adam Frawley, an FBI agent who’s made it his mission to put our antiheroes behind bars.
Affleck and Hall are both appealing and there’s a subtle honesty in their courtship that makes the love story at the heart of “The Town” affecting. You know where they’re headed but that doesn’t make the journey any less engaging.
Renner is quickly proving to be an actor to keep your eye on. The possibility for overstatement in his performance is huge, but Renner hints at just enough vulnerability to let you know that James is human. Hamm, on the other hand, is given a thankless part. Morality has never looked or sounded this repugnant.
The script, co-written by Affleck as well, is tense and smart, deftly mixing action and romance in a way that is unexpectedly refreshing. The action scenes are well filmed, raising your pulse without compromising the movie’s grittiness to become something out of a John Woo film. There’s hard-earned suspense in the proceedings and even with a lack of gunplay, Affleck mines some wonderful anxiety in his scenarios.
One scene, in which the fighting Irish tattoo on the back of James’s neck proves to be an almost dangerous tell-all, is unbearably suspenseful. Affleck doesn’t monitor the scene for a time and his lack of control gives the scene a terrifying sense of possibility.
If I haven’t heaped enough praise on Affleck yet, allow me to commend his directorial skills as well. He lends the film a needed sense of plausibility and he gets close to his actors, wanting us to care about them. The only time his vision gets away from him is toward the end, when the movie gets a little sappy. But the film’s too quick and lean to let you dwell on its shortcomings. Of which there are few.
The Social Network
People will tell you that “The Social Network” is the definitive movie of this year, possibly of this current generation. It will turn heads; realign planets, save our youth from moral degradation. In truth, however, “The Social Network” is just a good little movie. Its aspirations to be great prove to be both its source of success and failure.
The movie concerns Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), the Harvard student who created Facebook. Zuckerberg begins by humiliating his former girlfriend on his blog and then creating a website in which students can rate the attractiveness of female Harvard undergraduates. He sends his website around campus, and it proves to be a hit.
His success catches the attention of Cameron Winklevoss and Tyler Winklevoss, both played by Armie Hammer in a terrific dual performance. They want him to create a dating website for Harvard students; he takes their idea and molds it into the social network now known as Facebook. He co-founds Facebook with Eduardo (Andrew Garfield), the woefully unassuming best friend who loses almost everything. And to heighten the tension is Justin Timberlake as Sean Parker, creator of the website Napster and contributor to Facebook. Parker is a hopelessly arrogant entrepreneur and his inclusion into Facebook’s development creates more conflict than anticipated.
The story is interspersed with lawsuits filed against Zuckerberg by the Winklevosses and Eduardo respectively. Zuckerberg stole his ideas from the brothers and the credit from Eduardo. The narrative device is well employed but also shopworn. I’ll be glad when screenwriters gain back the confidence to frame these kinds of stories in a more straightforward manner.
Eisenberg, playing Zuckerberg as a kind of selfish letch whose being smart is his ruination, is perfect for the role, capturing a young-minded indifference familiar to today’s society. Timberlake is (surprise!) pretty good as Parker. You can say whatever you like about his musical abilities; he proves here he can be something of an actor. But its in Garfield that “The Social Network” finds someone worth caring about. Garfield, a sensitive actor, connects to emotions the audience can relate to. It was nice of the movie to throw us a bone.
David Fincher, as director, melds everything together in a way that makes sense. But something has to be said for my missing of the zest he brought to earlier pictures, such as “Fight Club” and “Seven.” Those movies weren’t nearly as respectable as “The Social Network,” but they also had more life.
Aaron Sorkin, screenwriter, will probably win an Oscar for his work. His dialogue is fast, funny, and clever and his characterizations are interesting and intelligent. But his script is also slow and uneventful at times and his statement on youth culture is obvious. The last scene of the film, reflecting sadly on the fragmented conditions of our social lives, is as relevant as it is superficial.
“The Social Network” is a good movie; one just wishes it had taken more chances.
The movie concerns Mark Zuckerberg (Jesse Eisenberg), the Harvard student who created Facebook. Zuckerberg begins by humiliating his former girlfriend on his blog and then creating a website in which students can rate the attractiveness of female Harvard undergraduates. He sends his website around campus, and it proves to be a hit.
His success catches the attention of Cameron Winklevoss and Tyler Winklevoss, both played by Armie Hammer in a terrific dual performance. They want him to create a dating website for Harvard students; he takes their idea and molds it into the social network now known as Facebook. He co-founds Facebook with Eduardo (Andrew Garfield), the woefully unassuming best friend who loses almost everything. And to heighten the tension is Justin Timberlake as Sean Parker, creator of the website Napster and contributor to Facebook. Parker is a hopelessly arrogant entrepreneur and his inclusion into Facebook’s development creates more conflict than anticipated.
The story is interspersed with lawsuits filed against Zuckerberg by the Winklevosses and Eduardo respectively. Zuckerberg stole his ideas from the brothers and the credit from Eduardo. The narrative device is well employed but also shopworn. I’ll be glad when screenwriters gain back the confidence to frame these kinds of stories in a more straightforward manner.
Eisenberg, playing Zuckerberg as a kind of selfish letch whose being smart is his ruination, is perfect for the role, capturing a young-minded indifference familiar to today’s society. Timberlake is (surprise!) pretty good as Parker. You can say whatever you like about his musical abilities; he proves here he can be something of an actor. But its in Garfield that “The Social Network” finds someone worth caring about. Garfield, a sensitive actor, connects to emotions the audience can relate to. It was nice of the movie to throw us a bone.
David Fincher, as director, melds everything together in a way that makes sense. But something has to be said for my missing of the zest he brought to earlier pictures, such as “Fight Club” and “Seven.” Those movies weren’t nearly as respectable as “The Social Network,” but they also had more life.
Aaron Sorkin, screenwriter, will probably win an Oscar for his work. His dialogue is fast, funny, and clever and his characterizations are interesting and intelligent. But his script is also slow and uneventful at times and his statement on youth culture is obvious. The last scene of the film, reflecting sadly on the fragmented conditions of our social lives, is as relevant as it is superficial.
“The Social Network” is a good movie; one just wishes it had taken more chances.
Hereafter
It’s almost impossible to get mad at a film Clint Eastwood directs anymore. The much-respected director has pulled off enough startlingly wonderful films in recent years that it would seem in bad taste to tell him that one of his movies just wasn’t very good. Unfortunately, “Hereafter” just isn’t very good. But you get the sense that it’s the movie that’s letting Eastwood down, and not the other way around.
The film tells three stories: one concerns a former psychic turned factory worker named George Lonnegan (Matt Damon) whose brother tries to rope him back into the psychic trade. Another story centers on Marie Lelay (Cécile de France), a French television journalist who survives the 2004 tsunami while in Thailand and tries to recompose a life that’s been marked by death. And in the last story we have Marcus (Frankie McLaren), a 12-year-old boy living in England whose twin brother, Jason, has just died.
For a film about death — a broad, boundless topic — Peter Morgan’s script has surprisingly little to say. I respect his desire to avoid presumptions, but one feels that he’s not even trying. None of the stories seem to say anything about death; they simply revolve around its concept in order to have some needed thematic connection. There’s some spare otherworldly imagery, but the film doesn’t want to commit to any singular vision of death and in this way it begins to lose credibility. Toward the end, the film tries to tell you to enjoy being alive. As pleasant as this notion is, it would be nice of a film about death to be about death for once.
Damon is good here; painting a restrained portrait of a man whose fear of his connection to death has kept him from living at all. France, unfortunately, is more hit and miss. We see her transformation, but we don’t experience it. The film implies that Marie is a guarded person, but it’s France’s own guardedness that won’t let us see past this.
Eastwood as director does what he can and his rendering of the tsunami is powerful. Eastwood is not known for special effects of any kind and the fact that he employs special effects with such aplomb is surprising. But Eastwood has let the philosophical weightiness of Morgan’s script get the better of him. The sense of intimacy he lent to “Million Dollar Baby” would have benefited “Hereafter” enormously, instead the movie begins to feel distant rather than deliberate.
The film’s slack pacing and general melancholy attempted profoundness does not help either. However, by the time each story has been properly interwoven, there’s a kind of an odd silliness to the whole thing. Eastwood usually makes gritty and intimate films. A movie this Hollywood is so not Eastwood and there’s something both fascinating and frustrating in his directorial escape from the conventions he has established for himself. It’s nice to see Eastwood working outside of his comfort zone; one just wishes he had picked a better script.
The film tells three stories: one concerns a former psychic turned factory worker named George Lonnegan (Matt Damon) whose brother tries to rope him back into the psychic trade. Another story centers on Marie Lelay (Cécile de France), a French television journalist who survives the 2004 tsunami while in Thailand and tries to recompose a life that’s been marked by death. And in the last story we have Marcus (Frankie McLaren), a 12-year-old boy living in England whose twin brother, Jason, has just died.
For a film about death — a broad, boundless topic — Peter Morgan’s script has surprisingly little to say. I respect his desire to avoid presumptions, but one feels that he’s not even trying. None of the stories seem to say anything about death; they simply revolve around its concept in order to have some needed thematic connection. There’s some spare otherworldly imagery, but the film doesn’t want to commit to any singular vision of death and in this way it begins to lose credibility. Toward the end, the film tries to tell you to enjoy being alive. As pleasant as this notion is, it would be nice of a film about death to be about death for once.
Damon is good here; painting a restrained portrait of a man whose fear of his connection to death has kept him from living at all. France, unfortunately, is more hit and miss. We see her transformation, but we don’t experience it. The film implies that Marie is a guarded person, but it’s France’s own guardedness that won’t let us see past this.
Eastwood as director does what he can and his rendering of the tsunami is powerful. Eastwood is not known for special effects of any kind and the fact that he employs special effects with such aplomb is surprising. But Eastwood has let the philosophical weightiness of Morgan’s script get the better of him. The sense of intimacy he lent to “Million Dollar Baby” would have benefited “Hereafter” enormously, instead the movie begins to feel distant rather than deliberate.
The film’s slack pacing and general melancholy attempted profoundness does not help either. However, by the time each story has been properly interwoven, there’s a kind of an odd silliness to the whole thing. Eastwood usually makes gritty and intimate films. A movie this Hollywood is so not Eastwood and there’s something both fascinating and frustrating in his directorial escape from the conventions he has established for himself. It’s nice to see Eastwood working outside of his comfort zone; one just wishes he had picked a better script.
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1
Things get serious in “Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 1,” for better or worse, and you find yourself in deeper and darker territory. Gone is Chris Columbus’s whimsical vision of J.K. Rowling’s much beloved books. Director David Yates is going for full-fledged opera here and so it seems almost criminal that he’s let his work be chopped in half. However, there’s still enough Potter movie magic to keep audiences coming back for more.
The movie concerns the first half of the novel on which it’s based. It begins with a now Voldemort-fearing magical world. Our heroes, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe), Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) and Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) have skipped out on their last year at Hogwarts, a school for wizardry and magic. Instead, they’re intent on finding and destroying the rest of the seven horcruxes that dark lord Voldemort (Ralph Feinnes), put his soul into.
Their quest is complicated by the Ministry of Magic, which has gone corrupt in wake of Dumbledore’s death. It soon becomes hard to distinguish which force is worse: the Ministry of Magic drones or Voldemort’s disciples, the Death Eaters.
The movie, which clocks in at an impressive 146 minutes, is perhaps too faithful to its source material and is slow at times. If some of Rowling’s novel was a tad tedious, we forgave it. She had earned the right to any material we found needless. For cinematic purposes, however, there’s no need to witness the camping segment of the plot in its entirety. The benefit of condensing the books into films was the need to edit for time and relevance. That’s not evident here.
That being said, “Harry Potter” is still an entertaining and exciting rollick. The special effects are big and bold, and the film doesn’t make them the focal point either. But one can’t help get lost in the dizzyingly, wonderfully realized chase scene that has not one, but a multitude of Potters making their way overhead London. The camerawork alternates between sweeping and intimate and the animated segment is unusual and gorgeous. The settings are also painstakingly realized. The black tiled, futuristic interiors of the Ministry of Magic dungeon are fascinating in their cold beauty.
It’s also comforting to see Yates trust his movie enough to get dark. Among the many of its scary pleasures, a run in with an old woman who might be the key to finding a horcrux is perhaps the most intense and the mostly absurdly exhilarating.
Acting has never been a concern of mine in Potter films, and there’s nothing here that should make this inclination any different. However, I did find myself beginning to miss the movie veterans that usually surround our young heroes. Alan Rickman is appropriately menacing but underutilized. Maggie Smith as Professor McGonagall is not present whatsoever, which is something of a disappointment.
There’s some splendid moviemaking here, and the last image is strong enough to make you almost forget that you’re watching half of a film.
The movie concerns the first half of the novel on which it’s based. It begins with a now Voldemort-fearing magical world. Our heroes, Harry Potter (Daniel Radcliffe), Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) and Ron Weasley (Rupert Grint) have skipped out on their last year at Hogwarts, a school for wizardry and magic. Instead, they’re intent on finding and destroying the rest of the seven horcruxes that dark lord Voldemort (Ralph Feinnes), put his soul into.
Their quest is complicated by the Ministry of Magic, which has gone corrupt in wake of Dumbledore’s death. It soon becomes hard to distinguish which force is worse: the Ministry of Magic drones or Voldemort’s disciples, the Death Eaters.
The movie, which clocks in at an impressive 146 minutes, is perhaps too faithful to its source material and is slow at times. If some of Rowling’s novel was a tad tedious, we forgave it. She had earned the right to any material we found needless. For cinematic purposes, however, there’s no need to witness the camping segment of the plot in its entirety. The benefit of condensing the books into films was the need to edit for time and relevance. That’s not evident here.
That being said, “Harry Potter” is still an entertaining and exciting rollick. The special effects are big and bold, and the film doesn’t make them the focal point either. But one can’t help get lost in the dizzyingly, wonderfully realized chase scene that has not one, but a multitude of Potters making their way overhead London. The camerawork alternates between sweeping and intimate and the animated segment is unusual and gorgeous. The settings are also painstakingly realized. The black tiled, futuristic interiors of the Ministry of Magic dungeon are fascinating in their cold beauty.
It’s also comforting to see Yates trust his movie enough to get dark. Among the many of its scary pleasures, a run in with an old woman who might be the key to finding a horcrux is perhaps the most intense and the mostly absurdly exhilarating.
Acting has never been a concern of mine in Potter films, and there’s nothing here that should make this inclination any different. However, I did find myself beginning to miss the movie veterans that usually surround our young heroes. Alan Rickman is appropriately menacing but underutilized. Maggie Smith as Professor McGonagall is not present whatsoever, which is something of a disappointment.
There’s some splendid moviemaking here, and the last image is strong enough to make you almost forget that you’re watching half of a film.
127 Hours
Danny Boyle’s latest, the sweeping, splendid “127 Hours,” is a grueling but rewarding exercise in arty grit. Boyle, a pop realist who seems committed to re-energizing movies, has made a movingly brutal film that makes “Slumdog Millionaire” look like “Bambi.”
Here, Boyle fully commits to the bleak beauty of his material. Even when his camera is peppering the story with a kind of manic artistry, Boyle keeps the movie grounded in the dark predicament of his protagonist.
The movie concerns the true story of Aron Ralston (James Franco), an American hiker and amateur daredevil who, in 2003, went hiking in Utah for some sporty solitude. While climbing, a boulder falls on his arm and traps him there. Ralston, shocked, is trapped there for five days (with a limited resource of food and water) before cutting off his right arm.
Don’t worry. I’m not spoiling anything. As you’ll see, Boyle’s film isn’t about what happens, but why. Ralston, confident but selfish, confronts his own demons while trapped, and they come in the form of family, friends and acquaintances he never gave much consideration to. The film, however, isn’t about punishment but redemption. Ralston needs to see how much his life is worth before finding the strength to take his own arm.
The film spends most of its time on Franco, who is up for the challenge. Franco is nothing short of wonderful, inhabiting Ralston’s terror and regret with a kind of naturalistic, un-showy poetry that gets right to the heart of “127 Hours.” The film isn’t much interested in other people, which is fine, in some ways, because the film isn’t about them but about their importance to Ralston.
Anthony Don Mantle’s cinematography is oddly beautiful and the most startling shots come when not focused on the Utah terrain. A flashback to a sort of winter rave party is so unusual and evocative, the film feels fleetingly sentimental.
Boyle’s direction is characteristically overloaded but his intensity is used to good effect, giving his film an immediate, unshakeable sense of urgency. Boyle goes down water tubes, sidles across landscapes, falls into blue waters alongside its characters. But he settles down, too, letting his scenes speak for themselves. One scene, in which Ralston tries to recapture a fallen knife, is low-key but almost unbearably suspenseful.
The scene in which Ralston cuts off his arm is unflinching and will be too intense for some to stomach. However, the film wouldn’t have had as much of an impact had it not portrayed the scene with such brutal honesty.
When the last act arrives, Ralston makes his way across the Utah terrain, and the film’s profound sense of liberation and existential anguish is given magical beauty by the band Sigur Ros, blaring on the soundtrack. Ralston, bloody and battered, finally understands the preciousness of life and his understanding is treated with awe-inspiring honesty. We’re left breathless in wake of his redemption, which, after 95 minutes, is hard-earned.
Here, Boyle fully commits to the bleak beauty of his material. Even when his camera is peppering the story with a kind of manic artistry, Boyle keeps the movie grounded in the dark predicament of his protagonist.
The movie concerns the true story of Aron Ralston (James Franco), an American hiker and amateur daredevil who, in 2003, went hiking in Utah for some sporty solitude. While climbing, a boulder falls on his arm and traps him there. Ralston, shocked, is trapped there for five days (with a limited resource of food and water) before cutting off his right arm.
Don’t worry. I’m not spoiling anything. As you’ll see, Boyle’s film isn’t about what happens, but why. Ralston, confident but selfish, confronts his own demons while trapped, and they come in the form of family, friends and acquaintances he never gave much consideration to. The film, however, isn’t about punishment but redemption. Ralston needs to see how much his life is worth before finding the strength to take his own arm.
The film spends most of its time on Franco, who is up for the challenge. Franco is nothing short of wonderful, inhabiting Ralston’s terror and regret with a kind of naturalistic, un-showy poetry that gets right to the heart of “127 Hours.” The film isn’t much interested in other people, which is fine, in some ways, because the film isn’t about them but about their importance to Ralston.
Anthony Don Mantle’s cinematography is oddly beautiful and the most startling shots come when not focused on the Utah terrain. A flashback to a sort of winter rave party is so unusual and evocative, the film feels fleetingly sentimental.
Boyle’s direction is characteristically overloaded but his intensity is used to good effect, giving his film an immediate, unshakeable sense of urgency. Boyle goes down water tubes, sidles across landscapes, falls into blue waters alongside its characters. But he settles down, too, letting his scenes speak for themselves. One scene, in which Ralston tries to recapture a fallen knife, is low-key but almost unbearably suspenseful.
The scene in which Ralston cuts off his arm is unflinching and will be too intense for some to stomach. However, the film wouldn’t have had as much of an impact had it not portrayed the scene with such brutal honesty.
When the last act arrives, Ralston makes his way across the Utah terrain, and the film’s profound sense of liberation and existential anguish is given magical beauty by the band Sigur Ros, blaring on the soundtrack. Ralston, bloody and battered, finally understands the preciousness of life and his understanding is treated with awe-inspiring honesty. We’re left breathless in wake of his redemption, which, after 95 minutes, is hard-earned.
Black Swan
Bold, unsettling, beautiful and disturbing, Darren Aronofsky's “Black Swan” leaves you stunned, beaten and breathless.
The film, a disorienting descent into the depths of hell, gets under your skin and refuses to leave. It's an exhilarating roller coaster ride, a dark character study, a feverish psychological thriller, all of them as engrossing as they are repellent. It reminds us of the enormous impact movies can have, their power to shock, delight, disturb and challenge. And the film also leaves you clinging to dear life, you're challenged to keep watching even as you want to turn away.
The film stars Natalie Portman as Nina Sayers, an obsessive, tightly-wound ballerina whose vying for the lead role in her company's latest rendition of “Swan Lake.”
The company's director, Thomas (Vincent Cassel) believes Nina to be perfect for the role of the white swan queen, her innocence and fragility perfectly suiting the tragic heroine. However, in Thomas' rendition of the much-celebrated ballet, the white and black swan queens are going to be performed by the same ballerina.
Nina's sexual repression and timidity are completely wrong for the part of the black swan queen, whose self-realized sexuality is far outside of Nina's comfort zone. Nina trains obsessively for the role, but her opportunity is also threatened by a sensual newcomer, Lily (Mila Kunis) whose unashamed sexuality would make her perfect for the role of the black swan queen. Nina, already coming undone by the pressures of her training, begins having gruesome visions, and her rivalry with Lily takes dark and unexpected turns.
There's so much happening in “Black Swan,” it would be impossible to get into all of it in one review. The film is about many things: repression, obsession and narcissism are just a few among many. It's not always subtle about its symbolism either; Aronofsky, who also directed the critically praised “The Wrestler,” takes his vision to the extreme.
Portman gives the best performance of her career and delves into a deeper and darker side of herself I didn't know she had. She captures Nina's repression and timidity with astonishing ease but she goes further, finding a kind of ugly obsession in Nina that's utterly devastating. This is the kind of transformation Oscar nominations were made for.
Kunis is slinky and sexy as Lily, and she gets some of the movie's most acidly humorous lines. Barbara Hershey also appears as Nina's domineering mother, but her character is given little complexity and Hershey becomes the monster looming in the back of the frame.
The score and cinematography are beautiful. Some of the visuals are stunning, including a scene in a nightclub in which pulsing strobe lights leave the viewer feeling dizzy with sensory overload.
By the time “Black Swan” revs up to its screeching finale, Aronofsky has taken his movie into such tricky, complicated territory, you have to give him credit for having so much confidence in his work. His confidence makes “Black Swan” an engrossing and unnerving thrill ride every step of the way.
The film, a disorienting descent into the depths of hell, gets under your skin and refuses to leave. It's an exhilarating roller coaster ride, a dark character study, a feverish psychological thriller, all of them as engrossing as they are repellent. It reminds us of the enormous impact movies can have, their power to shock, delight, disturb and challenge. And the film also leaves you clinging to dear life, you're challenged to keep watching even as you want to turn away.
The film stars Natalie Portman as Nina Sayers, an obsessive, tightly-wound ballerina whose vying for the lead role in her company's latest rendition of “Swan Lake.”
The company's director, Thomas (Vincent Cassel) believes Nina to be perfect for the role of the white swan queen, her innocence and fragility perfectly suiting the tragic heroine. However, in Thomas' rendition of the much-celebrated ballet, the white and black swan queens are going to be performed by the same ballerina.
Nina's sexual repression and timidity are completely wrong for the part of the black swan queen, whose self-realized sexuality is far outside of Nina's comfort zone. Nina trains obsessively for the role, but her opportunity is also threatened by a sensual newcomer, Lily (Mila Kunis) whose unashamed sexuality would make her perfect for the role of the black swan queen. Nina, already coming undone by the pressures of her training, begins having gruesome visions, and her rivalry with Lily takes dark and unexpected turns.
There's so much happening in “Black Swan,” it would be impossible to get into all of it in one review. The film is about many things: repression, obsession and narcissism are just a few among many. It's not always subtle about its symbolism either; Aronofsky, who also directed the critically praised “The Wrestler,” takes his vision to the extreme.
Portman gives the best performance of her career and delves into a deeper and darker side of herself I didn't know she had. She captures Nina's repression and timidity with astonishing ease but she goes further, finding a kind of ugly obsession in Nina that's utterly devastating. This is the kind of transformation Oscar nominations were made for.
Kunis is slinky and sexy as Lily, and she gets some of the movie's most acidly humorous lines. Barbara Hershey also appears as Nina's domineering mother, but her character is given little complexity and Hershey becomes the monster looming in the back of the frame.
The score and cinematography are beautiful. Some of the visuals are stunning, including a scene in a nightclub in which pulsing strobe lights leave the viewer feeling dizzy with sensory overload.
By the time “Black Swan” revs up to its screeching finale, Aronofsky has taken his movie into such tricky, complicated territory, you have to give him credit for having so much confidence in his work. His confidence makes “Black Swan” an engrossing and unnerving thrill ride every step of the way.
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