Noah

After rebooting his career with two small scale earth-bound pictures, The Wrestler and Black Swan, to my surprise Aronofsky launched back into big idea cinema with the previously unfilmed biblical story of Noah and the Great Flood. It’s a strange mix of epic swagger and Hollywood heroism and the intellectual cinematic gymnastics which Aronofsky has been known for. Ultimately it’s mildly rewarding and nothing of the intense feelings of emotion he made his name for in his more successful pictures.

Black Swan

Black Swan (2010) dir. Darren Aronofsky
Starring: Natalie Portman, Vincent Cassel, Mila Kunis, Barbara Hershey

****

By Alan Bacchus

The success of this film is kind of astounding; $100 million + box office take from a meagre $15 million budget, but which looks invisible to any production limitations. Its Oscar nominations are perhaps the most surprising. Whether you think movie awards are popularity contests, superfluous self-stroking or dependent on shameless campaigning, the validation of Darren Aronofsky in the company of the superlative list of nominees has immense value. Well, he should have gotten a nomination for The Wrestler, but no need for sour grapes anymore.

Unlike the films of the other nominees for Best Director (Fincher, Hooper, the Coens, Russell), Black Swan exists solely to titillate our nerves, creep us out and scare us to bits. The fact is, there isn’t too far to go before hitting the bottom of these characters, particularly Natalie Portman, who plays Nina Sayers, an ambitious dancer who essentially sells her soul in order to become the best dancer she can be. Sure, in the extreme, the film comments on the psychology of artists and the inner madman/psychopath that often plagues great artists, but that’s about the extent of what we can read into this film.

Unlike The King’s Speech, The Social Network, et al, Black Swan is devoid of historical perspective, cultural significance or any romanticism of any kind. It’s Aronofsky exercising his muscles in cinematic manipulation. The joy of Black Swan is its technical purity, the type of cinema Hitchcock or Polanski used to make, largely emotionally vacant exercises in scare tactics. Despite the dark material, Black Swan is a fun movie. Fun? Really? Yes, this picture is meant to be fun. Take the fetish-like close-ups of Nina's fingernails deteriorating. Aronofsky must have known most of his audience would turn away long before we see the gory hangnail rip off half her finger. The doppelganger teasing, lesbian sex, masturbation – this is the stuff Polanski tempted us with in Repulsion and what Brian De Palma or David Lynch would do.

Like these masters, Aronofsky uses the tools of cinema – the visual and the aural – to move us to darker places and stimulate our senses.

Aronofsky’s command of his instruments is inspiring. His edgy camera work is jarring from the outset. His handheld camera, which captures the beautiful and elegant ballet dance routines, is rigorous and immediately puts us into the point of view of his troubled dancer. His control of the colour palette is just as sharp and controlled. Key designers Matthew Libatique, Thérèse DePrez and David Stein fill this world with shades of grey, black and white, complementing the black swan/white swan dualities. Sure, it’s not a subtle metaphor, but it results in a distinct, consistent look, which aids in Aronofsky’s scare tactics. And then there’s the use of mirrors, which might seem like a hackneyed horror film trick, but proves to be a venerable, reliable old device.

Though I haven’t read the script on its own, it would appear to serve the sensibilities of a director like Darren Aronofsky; a well structured, air-tight 100 pages or so, but light enough to be blown up with a robust cinematic style. And the marriage of these technical tools with equally adroit performances hits the high mark of what Hitchcock and Polanski achieved in their heydays.

Black Swan is available on Blu-ray and DVD from 20th Century Fox Home Entertainment. It's a fabulous disc featuring a well-produced and informative making of documentary. No EPK bullshit.

TIFF 2010 - Black Swan

Black Swan (2010) dir. Darren Aronofsky
Starring: Natalie Portman, Mila Kunis, Vincent Cassel, Natalie Portman and Barbara Hershey

****

By Greg Klymkiw

I am breathless, speechless and frankly, so knocked on my ass as I attempt to write this, that I fear that no words will ever adequately describe the elation I feel at having experienced what might be the best movie of the year, the decade and possibly one of the best pictures of all time.

I love this movie to death!

Is it that obvious?

With Black Swan, Darren Aronofsky, the brilliant director of Pi, Requiem for a Dream and The Wrestler, has etched in stone his right to be called one of the greatest living film directors in the world. This is such a passionate, sexy, suspenseful, artful and wildly melodramatic movie, that even now I'm obsessed with seeing the picture as many times as possible.

Even one more viewing will do in order to pinch myself to see if I am dreaming how utterly stupendous it is.

I suspect, I'm not dreaming, however - Black Swan feels like it is exactly the sort of film we'll all look back upon as a milestone in cinema history.

It's Powell/Pressburger's The Red Shoes meets Mankiewicz's All About Eve meets Verhoeven's Showgirls with heavy doses of Polanski's Repulsion - and then some!

Aronofsky etches the unforgettable tale of Nina (Natalie Portman), a ballerina driven to achieving the highest level of artistry; brutally encouraged by crazed impresario Thomas Leroy (Vincent Cassel), thwarted by her possessive, narcissistic mother (Barbara Hershey), terrified at the prospect of failure exemplified by an aging prima ballerina (Winona Ryder) and most of all, facing the threat of extinction by Lilly (Mila Kunis), an earthy rival with less technique, but greater raw passion - something Nina desperately needs to wrench from the depths of her soul to move beyond mere technical virtuosity.

The strongest comparison point is the aforementioned Powell/Pressburger 1948 masterpiece The Red Shoes, a staggering, highly influential motion picture - the stunning ballet sequences were a huge inspiration to Scorsese for the staging and mise-en-scene of the Raging Bull boxing matches. Powell/Pressburger wanted to make a movie that captured dance the only way motion pictures truly could - not from a proscenium, but on stage - as close to the action as possible.

Aronofsky follows suit with Black Swan and in some ways he matches the Powell/Pressburger approach with considerable aplomb. Where Aronofsky's approach differs is in his use of movement. Powell/Pressburger favoured exquisite compositions from a mostly-fixed camera position with the occasional dolly or crane shot, but often creating movement through delicate montage. Aronofsky, on the other hand, moves and swishes his camera with a sort of controlled steadi-cam abandon. I say "controlled" as this is no mere display of annoying shaky-cam techniques - the handheld movements are gorgeously composed and not a single move feels out of place, indulgent or downright sloppy.

In Aronofsky's mise-en-scene, the camera floats and glides with calculated abandon. In fact, I'm rather embarrassed to admit I caught myself - several times - rocking back and forth, to and fro and in a state of amusement-park-ride bliss. In fact, I've never seen dance sequences on film that inspired me to move in my seat as the image unspooled. I seldom move - period, but that's another story and significant only in that Black Swan compelled me to not remain static and slumped into my chair. And this was not only the case with the dance scenes, but with virtually every moment in the picture.

At times it compels one to literally jump from one's seat during set-pieces of slam-bang suspense. Other moments inspire one to sit forward, eyes up to the screen and literally on the edge of one's seat - at times, in mouth-agape awe at the sheer genius of the filmmaking and at others, because the action is so thrilling that to sit back becomes near-impossible. And then there are the numerous cringe-inducing moments where one squirms and sinks into one's seat, clinging for dear life as the picture deals with the grotesquely painful physical injuries and deformities that dancers - especially ballerinas - are prone to; split, oozing toenails, dislocated joints and other such gnarly realities of the dancing trade. I have not uttered the words "Jesus Christ" so many times in one picture - in utter disgust at witnessing the physical torture these women endure. Nina in particular is afflicted with an obsessive streak to the point where she scratches at her shoulder blades and leaves blood and pus-oozing open sores. And worse, to stop herself from scratching, she continually cuts, trims and buffs her nails to a point where her fingertips, fingernails and cuticles are a raw, pulpy mess.

Jesus Christ!

And the melodrama: O, the melodrama! Some consider melodrama a dirty word. Well, anyone who does is a total knot head. It's a completely legitimate genre. There's bad melodrama and there's good, if not great melodrama. Black Swan is in the latter category. O, glorious melodrama! This great movie, replete with catty nasties of invective hurled with meat cleaver sharpness, literal cat fights, mother-daughter snipe-fests, masturbation, lesbo action, anonymous sex in nightclub washrooms and delicious over-the-top blood-letting, all add up to one motherfucker of an ice cream sundae with not one, not two, not three, but a barrel-full of maraschino cherries globbed with pools of glistening syrup on top.

The performances in Black Swan are perfectly pitched to the heights of melodrama that the film itself achieves. Miss Portman captures her character's intensity and frigidity with such perfection that Nina's gradual soul wrenching ascent/descent takes on the heft of pure tragedy. She commands the screen with such assured bravado that it's probably safe to suggest that hers will be the performance to beat in the year's upcoming awards season. Mila Kunis is gorgeous and sexy. Her chemistry with Portman crackles with the sheer electricity of opposites attracting. Winona Ryder delivers an exceptionally mature tragic portrait, full of bile, resentment and tragedy - a worthy successor and rival to the suffering bitch goddess Susan Hayward. Barbara Hershey wanders through the Grand Guignol territory of those immortal Robert Aldrich heroines of the 60s and drags us deep into the demonic bilge barrel of great movie harridans. And last, but certainly not least, Vincent Cassel is one sexy beast - the perfect ballet impresario: one part genius, one part cocksman, two parts Mephistopheles.

Some critics have referred to Black Swan as "The Red Shoes on acid.". They couldn't be more wrong. The Red Shoes is already on acid.

From my vantage point, Black Swan is pure crack cocaine, and as such, inspires more and heavier doses.

THE WRESTLER

The Wrestler (2008) dir. Darren Aronofsky
Starring: Mickey Rourke, Marisa Tomei, Evan Rachel Wood

****

Not only is Mickey Rourke’s phenomenal performance one of the comebacks of the year, so is Darren Aronofsky’s work on “The Wrestler”. After the long road to bring the muddied and overwrought “The Fountain” to the screen a couple years ago, Aronofsky’s latest film feel like a cathartic return to authentic filmmaking, free from special effects, stylistic excesses and pretentious melodrama. “The Wrestler” is as honest as films come – a beautifully executed story about a broken man struggling to make something of his life.

Mickey Rourke plays Randy “The Ram” Robinson once a king in the world of 80’s wrestling, now a middle-aged has-been struggling to make ends meets. The 20 years since his heyday haven’t been kind, his face wears all the battle scars of a life fighting, alcoholism, steroids and many other vices. He speaks with a smokers rasp, and wears a hearing aid. The wrestling meets he fights at are not televised, not performed in large stadiums, it’s the no frills independent circuit – the ‘minor leagues’, if you will, performed in high school gymnasiums and legion halls. The Ram may be old but he still has the passion and talent of a great performer. He honourably throws every ounce of sweat and blood into the ring for entertainment. Everything comes to a halt though when he suffers a heart attack after a particularly brutal match.

He’s now unable to fight, but things start looking up when The Ram makes contact with his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood), his grocery store job starts to pan out and a tender relationship with his stripper ladyfriend (Marisa Tomei) progresses. But when the demons of the old warrior come back Randy turns to the only thing he’s ever been good at for redemption – wrestling.

Writer Robert Seigel and director Aronofsky get the milieu of this little seen world of independent wrestling exactly right. The authenticity of these characters make it a fascinate environment just to observe. Though the entire film has a free form quality, the backstage scenes in particular sing with organic naturalism. Despite the brutality of the work, there’s warmth and respect amongst the wrestlers. So it’s easy to see why Randy never left the sport.

Mickey Rourke’s astonishing performance anchors every foot of the film. He’s in every scene, and he embodies the sad life of this man. The reunification scenes with his daughter are truly heartbreaking and the tender romance with Cassidy has us rooting for Randy to succeed and assemble the pieces of his life once and for all. But Aronofsky sustains a simmering dread and tension – a tragedy in the waiting. No matter how good things get for Randy he’s always walking a tightrope and could fall at any moment.

After suffering through the contrived melodrama of “The Reader” yesterday, “The Wrestler” is like a breath of fresh air - a deceptively simple film but the result of hard work from Seigel, Aronofsky and Rourke. As a cinemagoer, no matter if it’s “Iron Man” or “The Reader”, every time I go to the movies there’s a chance of being hit in the gonads with a film that ‘just works’ on all emotional levels. “The Wrestler” works perfectly.

It’s a shame though,  just when as Aronofsky seems to have found his stride with truth and authenticity he’s going back into the high stakes artificial world of blockbuster filmmaking. “Robocop” appears to be his next project. If anything the confidence he’s received from this triumphant masterpiece will hopefully spill over into his next work. Enjoy.

The Wrestler