On Movement, Madness and Mirrors in Black Swan

There is a scene in Darren Aronofsky’s Black Swan where Vincent Cassel’s Thomas tells his recently appointed star of Swan Lake, Nina (Natalie Portman) that “perfection is not just about control. It's also about letting go. Surprise yourself so you can surprise the audience.” Here, Aronofsky takes his character’s advice in representing the closed world of ballet. As in The Wrestler (2008), Aronofsky lets his camera move freely as it penetrates the hidden aspects of a specific entertainment industry. As with Randy the Ram the camera is constantly up close and personal in Nina’s life. From the grainy, extreme close up tracking shots to the repetitive (often painful to watch) routines of a dancers’ life, the intensity of the industry is heightened by the closeness of the camera. As with The Wrestler this is most skilfully demonstrated in the performance scenes. When Nina is on stage the camera ducks and weaves in, out and under as she dances. There really is no escape from Nina’s world and the intensity of her animalistic breakdown. The scene where Nina (in her mind) literally becomes the black swan is breathtaking.

Nina’s task as the head dancer of the company is to embody the polar characters of Swan Lake. The virginal white swan and the dangerous, irrepressible black swan (Portman’s performance is so exceptional and dedicated, she brings both to life). Aronofsky’s film lacks subtlety, especially in its depiction of Nina’s descent into madness. Yet a lack of subtlety does not equate to a lack of effect. Through his use of mirrors and mirror images, Aronofsky depicts a mind unravelling. That we know it is coming makes it no less effective. At its best, Black Swan is a challenging film that offers intensity rarely matched in the cinema. There are scenes that can be uncomfortable to watch and those that confuse the audiences’ perceptions of reality. As with The Wrestler, Aronofsky offers little to his protagonist in the end but a destructive need for perfection. Black Swan is a brilliant, provocative and out of control film.

On the Best Film Posters of 2010

From mubi.com, the top 10 film posters of 2010.

http://mubi.com/notebook/posts/2708

Here are two to kick off 2011.

On Improvisation in Blue Valentine

Blue Valentine, a film that has been many years in pre-production, is the story of Dean and Cindy who we meet as they move towards the end of their marriage. Through clever placing of flashbacks, we are also told the story of their lives before they met and their life together leading up to their break up. Interviews with the director and writer, Derek Cianfrance, have revealed that much of the dialogue between the two main characters was improvised. Some reviews have stated that while the film is an emotional portrayal of the break down of a marriage, the improvisation is obvious and too ‘Hollywood’. Conversely, it could be argued that the improvisation leads to naturalness supported by brave performances from Ryan Gosling and Michelle Williams that lends the film its real emotional weight.

There are scenes here of genuine comedy and feeling that really endear us to the characters and make their initial romance feel entirely natural. The same can be said of the (chronological) break down scenes of their marriage. Parts of Blue Valentine are difficult to watch and we really feel as if we are intruding upon a couple in decline. The direction throws us into the situation with close ups of their arguments that do not allow us to focus on anything else. Yet, it is the acting that stays in the mind long after the film ends. The performances do occasionally stray into over dramatisation, but mostly the actors have achieved something impressive and often heartbreaking. Blue Valentine is the first excellent film of 2011.

On Glossophobia in The King's Speech

Jerry Seinfeld said during one of his stand up shows that a fear of death was second to a fear of public speaking. This, he concluded, meant that during a funeral, most people would rather be in the coffin than giving the eulogy. Whether the statistic is true or not, this does highlight what for many people is an issue and it is with this fear that we find our protagonist of The King’s Speech battling against.

In short, Tom Hooper’s The King’s Speech is about King George VI and the speech therapist that helped him overcome his lifelong affliction to become a stabilising wartime monarch for the people of Britain. The film is more than competently directed and the three leads (Colin Firth, Geoffrey Rush and Helena Bonham-Carter) carry the film and the weaker supporting roles. The script by David Seidler doesn’t isolate and is often witty, offering a fractured and human royal family. The film is never boring, but only really shines when Firth and Rush verbally spar. The imminent threat of war is never quite the danger it should be and the film lacks the greater historical relevance it aims for.

What has likely made the film as popular as it is and keeps it relevant and interesting is that a fear of public speaking (glossophobia, apparently) is such a common issue that we instantly relate to and care about Firth’s King George VI. Even when we know what to say, saying it in front of an audience is difficult. Now imagine that audience is the whole commonwealth and the speech is so important that its aims are to unite people against the threat of fascism. King George, or the Duke of York as he is early on, has a vulnerability that makes his progression throughout the film easily traceable and the director is therefore able to manipulate us easily into the final, rousing third and his expected successful wartime speech. Expect much award attention, but not all deserved.

On Technical Proficiency in 127 Hours

Aron Ralston is a technically proficient climber; he knows the ins and outs of climbing gear and is able to sever his arm below the elbow with a blunt knife. But, it is not Ralston’s technical proficiency that is here discussed, but director Danny Boyle’s.

127 Hours is the story of Ralston who, in 2003, gets his arm stuck between a boulder and the rock wall (literally, a rock and a hard place) in Utah’s Blue John Canyon. Limited characters and limited locations seem to be an unusual match for the visual restless Boyle. Slumdog Millionaire (2008) being the prime example of his wandering eye. What Boyle achieves here, with the thinnest of narratives, is quite remarkable. Boyle’s camera wanders where others dare not go. From the handlebars of Ralston’s bike, to extreme tight close ups, into the bottom of a water bottle as Ralston takes his last drink and then painfully through the tissue and all the way to the bone of his forearm. The camera is rarely still and the film is the better for it, involving us in Ralston’s struggle more than we would think possible.

Additionally, Boyle recognises that amongst the deathly silences of the desert at night, sound will play a key part in telling this story. The rush of rain water heightens our own awareness of Ralston’s desperate thirst; his cries for help are piercing and the exaggerated sound of bone breaking and nerves snapping catapult us back into the action of cutting one’s arm off with a blunt knife.

Where 127 Hours falls down is in its character development, even though Boyle attempts to take us under Ralston’s skin and into his mind (the only place a director who likes to roam with nowhere to go, can go). Ralston’s dreams, his memories, his fears, his loves are all vividly realised and cleverly blended into reality. Yet, the emotional punch isn’t there; Ralston is never more than a guy who we know will cut his arm off. And maybe it’s because we do know he’ll cut his arm off and survive that makes it difficult to attach emotionally. Boyle hints at Ralston’s hubris when it comes to his ability with extreme sports and the desert, but doesn’t give us enough of this to give the character a much need other layer. Sight and Sound’s review nicely comments on the irony of Ralston trying to take on the desert “single-handed only to leave the desert single-handed.” A stronger indication of this arrogance would not harm this film.

127 Hours is a technically impressive film, but there is no doubt that this is Boyle’s film, not Ralston’s and the question then has to be asked, when someone has achieved something so remarkable, doesn’t he deserve his own film?

On a Great Christmas Film

Directed by Jeannot Szwarc and released in 1985, Santa Claus the Movie tells a story set over hundreds of years. The first half of this Christmas classic looks at how an ordinary, philanthropic man becomes, after escaping death and falling into the hands of the magical Vendicum, Santa Claus. The second half takes us to 1985 and, with Santa still going strong we see how an immoral toy manufacturer tries to corner the Christmas market with the help of an elf who has lost his way.

Santa Claus the Movie focuses on characters rather than Christmas clichés or magic. To begin, what this film offers over other Christmas films is a historical back story that feels believable. A man who has acted kindly his whole life is chosen specifically for the job and along with his wife, is given the power to deliver gifts around the world. Rather than worry about how to explain the troublesome issue of travelling round the world, we are simply informed that time travels with Santa. As time passes we slowly see the rise of commercialism and the question of relevance is subtly introduced. How relevant is Santa in a society where children’s needs and wants are met? (The issue avoided is that of non Western societies). One of Santa’s elves, Patch, is moving with the times and sees ways to revolutionise the business of Christmas, but is met with resistance by the traditionalists at the North Pole. When the elf decides he is not wanted because his ideas are passed over he travels to New York City where his innocence is taken advantage of and in the end he realises that he is missed and must be rescued by Santa; the most formulaic and uninteresting aspect of this film, which arrives only at the end.

While in New York and in additional to the issues of commercialism and identity already being examined, the director introduces questions of class. A young homeless boy finds a friend in the rich niece of the toy manufacturer and also in Santa whose isolation in the North Pole means he cannot comprehend the issue of homelessness until he meets Joe. These issues and the questions they raise are all there for the older viewer. For the younger audience and essential for the Christmas film is the magic, the humour and the Christmastime mood it creates. All the classic iconography is present and the ending is upbeat. What makes Santa Claus the Movie as good as it is, still after 25 years, is its ability to juggle believable and layered characters into a traditional seasonal story without losing any of the expected traits of Christmas films.