I'm afraid this movie falls within the brilliant but nasty class, or to put it another way it deals exclusively with the darker side of human nature. There is no light and shade, no humour, just a careering down the slope to inevitable disaster. We are very effectively put right into the mind of the principal character, a girl-woman who is an outstanding dancer but a very fragile human being in a tough environment. Her mother, a former dancer, has undoubtedly pushed her hard, but you can't put Nina's troubles down to Mum alone. There is Thomas the Svengali –like choreographer who is trying to arouse her dormant sexual feelings to get a better performance, and jealous other dancers. Plus, I suppose, the bitch-goddess success, more evident in New York than just about anywhere else.
Director Darren Aronofsky succeeds only too well in putting us inside Nina's mind. The loud soundtrack makes even the subway's clatter sinister and Tchaikovsky's music (played backwards apparently) menacing. The shaky hand-held camera adds to the claustrophobic malaise, though the grey concrete of backstage Lincoln Center (not the actual place) is pretty grim as well. A ballet movie for masochists, I thought. Even so, Natalie Portman puts in a brilliant performance. She is absolutely convincing, as are her delusions. It is certainly difficult to distinguish between what is actually happening and what is merely the product of Nina's addled imagination. I also liked Mila Kunis as the over-eager understudy/competitor and Barbara Hershey as Nina's controlling but anxious mother.
Classical Ballet is normally a refined form of theatre, and the production here follows the conventions – and then trashes them. There is too much suffering and not enough art, it seems. I don't know whether the original writer was trying to make a point about the suffering required to produce great art, but Aronofsky certainly makes Nina suffer. He also makes a mess of Tchaikovsky's work, which is conveniently out of copyright and unacknowledged except in the very small print. I don't think I'll be rushing to see his next film.
Director Darren Aronofsky succeeds only too well in putting us inside Nina's mind. The loud soundtrack makes even the subway's clatter sinister and Tchaikovsky's music (played backwards apparently) menacing. The shaky hand-held camera adds to the claustrophobic malaise, though the grey concrete of backstage Lincoln Center (not the actual place) is pretty grim as well. A ballet movie for masochists, I thought. Even so, Natalie Portman puts in a brilliant performance. She is absolutely convincing, as are her delusions. It is certainly difficult to distinguish between what is actually happening and what is merely the product of Nina's addled imagination. I also liked Mila Kunis as the over-eager understudy/competitor and Barbara Hershey as Nina's controlling but anxious mother.
Classical Ballet is normally a refined form of theatre, and the production here follows the conventions – and then trashes them. There is too much suffering and not enough art, it seems. I don't know whether the original writer was trying to make a point about the suffering required to produce great art, but Aronofsky certainly makes Nina suffer. He also makes a mess of Tchaikovsky's work, which is conveniently out of copyright and unacknowledged except in the very small print. I don't think I'll be rushing to see his next film.