Regarding the Portrayal of Artists in Black Swan

The Women Film Critic Circle released their annual awards list last week and the choices, as always, are very interesting. I like seeing recognition for an actor like Q'Orianka Kilcher who does consistently good work yet is ignored for a variety of reasons. It's nice to see an awards body that recognizes someone like Helen Mirren for taking a risk even if the risk doesn't ultimately pan out to a good film. The Women Film Critics Circle offers a unique perspective on cinema designed to create discussion about the role of women in film.

But what would happen if the 55 members of the organization voted to recognize a film with the dishonor of the "Top 10 Hall of Shame" for a simplistic view of a more complex film. Last year, they suggested anyone who enjoyed Precious was racist against fat people, black people, uneducated people, and single parents because no one would have applauded the film if it "were a poor 'white trash' family/community." This year, of course, they recognized Winter's Bone in a positive way for portraying white trash in a drama with no levity and families broken up by drug use and creation. Would that make anyone who liked Winter's Bone racist against white people, Applachian people, drug addicts, and broken families? But I digress.

This year's list gave that honor to Black Swan. The reasoning is strange to me: "For turning 'everything was beautiful at the ballet' into a horror venue populated by female stereotypes." Is their complaint that it's a horror film? That it has flat female characters? That it didn't embrace the image-driven world of ballet? Or that it, perhaps, portrayed some of the negative aspects of ballet with abject realism in spite of the horrific nature of the narrative?

There are bones to pick with Black Swan, for sure. Nina's Mother (Barbara Hershey) and fading star Beth Macintyre (Winona Ryder) are one-note characters for most of the running time. The former is a bizarre riff on bipolar disorder, bouncing inexplicably back and forth between crying jags, obsessive coddling, and aggressive controlling behaviors. The latter is a vindictive woman willing to destroy herself to take down her assumed enemy. They are designed in the screenplay as foils to the better developed characters with larger arcs, but they are flat. I take issue with the Mother role being a stereotype more so than the fading star (which is a stereotype) as the final act of the film leading to the opening night performance explains what is actually going on with the character and how we, as the audience, were forced to look at her.

When you look at the film closely, there are only four other female characters with any dialog in the film. There is the costume designer--a woman who is in the film to comment on Nina's weight, which would happen in real life when a performer is measured for a costume and is significantly smaller than she was at the initial fitting. There is Nina's rival for the lead in the ballet--who acts like any enterprising young performer, sucking up to the director and calling someone out when they're misled about casting in a bad way. Calling either of those two one-or-two scene wonders stereotypes would mean the vast majority of roles in film are stereotypes by virtue of being defined by an occupation. It is not a situation exclusive to Black Swan. Many of the films the Women Film Critics Circle embraced feature similarly-defined career-only characters.

The other two roles drive the action of the film: Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) and Lily (Mila Kunis). Lily is the character that comes closest to fitting the complaints of the Women Film Critics Circle. She is, in essence, playing two very different characters. On the one side, she is the fun-loving nurturer, trying to make sure everyone has a good time while making sure Nina is coping with the pressure of the lead in Swan Lake. On the other hand, she is the vamp. She goes out, she parties, she beds strange men and women, and shows up to work the next day to flirt with anyone that will meet her gaze. Taken separately, they're stereotypical roles. Woven together by Aaron Sorkin's screenplay and Mila Kunis' performance, they form the basis of a dynamic character fighting against Nina's perception of who she can trust in the world of ballet.

Then there is Nina Sayers herself. To describe her character would be to ruin the ending of the film. She is a woman spiraling out of control under the pressure to achieve perfection in her first leading ballet role. The circumstances of her story are so bizarre, they can't be called stereotypical. There have been films about exhaustion, mental breakdown, sexual exploration, self-actualization, obsession, and becoming an independent adult, but never quite wrapped up together or arranged in this way before. Is it a negative portrayal of a female character? No, though it easily could have been. Director Darren Arronofsky wisely does not cast judgment on Nina Sayers by defining the entire film on what she sees. There is nothing shown on screen that isn't either experienced by Nina or seen by Nina. She is in every scene. She defines what she sees and what she sees is scaring her. If you think it is a negative portrayal of a female character, than it is you casting judgment on the character, not the film itself.

As for the horror of ballet, there are some scary things in that industry that less-informed viewers might not know. Normal-weight dancers rarely make it in a professional company because the industry as a whole believes a thin frame produces better lines and is more aesthetically pleasing. Though there is a union to protect the rights and health of the dancers, the limit on rehearsal time can be overturned, ignored, or abused to put an inordinate amount of strain on the dancers. Say the contract allows for six hours of dance a day with a one hour break six days a week (hypothetical, I'm more familiar with Equity than the other stage performer's unions and even that isn't Equity procedure). The union can do nothing to stop the choreographer or producers or director from insisting the dancers spend a week practicing their jumps en pointe again and again until their toes bleed and they struggle to walk out of the studio at night. They can also shift to eight hour rehearsal days going in to tech rehearsals if they are willing to shell out more cash and only rehearse four or five days a week. Even after a show opens, dancers can be called in for up to two hours of rehearsal a day before having to be paid extra money. The unions care more about standardizing dancer's wages then their health until a major accident occurs during the production.

To me, the reality of stage performance would be horrifying to those that don't understand that much of what is shown in Black Swan is standard procedure. There are directors who will treat a performer like garbage for weeks to put them in the right head-space of anger or despair to live the character. There are choreographers who will repeat the same eight or sixteen counts over and over without break until everyone gets them exactly right. There are costume designers who will complain about fitting a less-than-ideal-sized performer until that performer stops eating and drops to underweight--but easier to fit--territory.

All of that said, does Black Swan make ballet ugly or unappealing? In my opinion, no. The dance sequences in this film are just as beautiful and thought-provoking as the dance sequences in The Red Shoes. They just happen to be used in a way that builds suspense regarding a character-study film. If people want to view this film as a commentary on the world of ballet and all of its ills, they can. I think it's a misguided reading when the story would and could have played out the same in any other industry. Imagine Nina is an attorney trying to become a full partner in a law firm. She begs the trustees to give her a chance and her refusal of a sexual advance leads the trustees to name her partner. She then spirals out of control under the pressure of the work load, bringing it home with her every night and never resting. It might not have the visual panache of the ballet world, but the narrative would serve the same function: the study of an obsessive character willing to sacrifice everything for her dream. Any obsession can be horrifying, even in what is normally viewed as a beautiful industry like ballet.