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Black Swan

mandy — Sat, 08 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

The hype had me prepared for Black Swan to be a disturbing and gory movie. But the truth of it is this: even if you’re squeamish, like me, there’s nothing in the film you can’t look at… out of context.

Context is the name of the game for director Darren Aronofsky, in this and his previous films. Aronofsky gives viewers rich, often confusing imagery—the back of someone’s head, for instance; a favorite shot he's borrowed from Hitchcock, Van Sant, and others—and then leaves it up to our minds to interpret his meaning. Example: a physical wound means one thing if it’s accidentally caused, another if it’s created by an external person, and still something else if self-inflicted. But if you only see the wound without its frame of reference, it means nothing beyond blood and guts.

Some viewers find this equivocating pretentious and sadistic, while others enjoy the challenge. With Black Swan, Aronofsky has achieved the ultimate cinematic ambiguity: his film will have us talking about it for years, trying to make heads or tails of what’s really going on with Nina the ballerina (Natalie Portman).

The trailer gives us the narrative framework (no spoilers ahead): Nina is a dedicated dancer who assumes the lead role in Swan Lake, only to end up in torment as she tries to shed her virginal white swan persona in favor of the darker, sensual black swan. Are her demons real or imagined? Can she play both parts, good and evil? Will she dance herself to death, or find fame and glory? Black Swan is a thriller racing to answer these questions. But saying it’s a movie about Swan Lake, or even about ballet in general, is like saying that Swan Lake is about birds.

When the curtain came down, so to speak, I wasn’t disturbed or scared. Instead, I felt mildly exhilarated and happy to go home to a foot massage from my husband. Later that night, however, I tossed and turned to terrifying dreams. I saw Nina’s mother’s icy stare. I dreamed of broken, twisted limbs and skin tearing from my body. The next morning, I received an email from a girlfriend with whom I’d seen the film: she claimed to be having “out of body sensations." What happened to us? How could we have endured viewing the film itself with no terror, only to wind up feeling dizzy and insecure later on? But that’s probably the point, right?

Black Swan transcends its obvious message of self-sacrifice for the sake of art and makes a wider statement about sexuality: it points out that women are intraculturally conditioned to sacrifice their own pleasure in favor of male gratification. We encourage and adopt a meme of female frigidity, forcing young girls to think of their virginity as something fragile, even breakable. We set up an expectation in young women that virginity and subsequent self-sacrifice can result in the “perfect” first time. (That’s according to me. You want a different conclusion? Ask a different critic.)

A review by Danusha Goska on the Internet Movie Database suggests Black Swan “tells us that women are fragile and neurotic and if they do anything remarkable it makes them crazy.” I went looking for this kind of reaction, and I liked finding that viewers are recognizing misogyny in the film. But to say that the filmmakers are sexists is inaccurate; in actuality, they’re pointing to existing rigid demands for women to model ourselves after feminine archetypes. True, Portman and costar Mila Kunis did reportedly lose an enormous amount of weight for their roles as skinny, somewhat masochistic dancers (about 20 lbs. each off already tiny bodies). But the question is: why are ballet dancers skinny, not why are actresses who play ballet dancers skinny?

One of the reasons I braved the supposed gore was because I wanted to gawk at pin thin bodies on screen. Instead of assuming an air of superiority to this trend, however, I found myself envying their ability to achieve a desired aesthetic. (Talk about social and cultural memes: women are supposed to be frigid and skinny, it would seem. And even this feminist, with all of her bravado, can’t get rid of a desire to be outwardly beautiful and adored.)

Okay, now comes the part when I tell you whether or not I recommend the film. I do. Black Swan is beautiful to look at and, at times, campy fun, but only fun for those who don’t mind a few days of psychological indigestion for which there may be no effective antacid.

Written by: Rachel Moehl, January 8th 2011

Our Family Wedding

admin — Mon, 15 Mar 2010 16:01:00 +0000

Directed by Rick Famuwiya

Fox Searchlight

Welcome to the new post-racial America, where at long last African Americans and Latinos can star together in a major studio movie every bit as crappy as anything White people have ever done. Our Family Wedding is... notable only for the racial composition of the cast… (Corey Hall, Metro Times)

Cultures…clash in [this] cartoonish feature about the nuptials of a Mexican American daddy’s girl (America Ferrera) and an African American doctor (Lance Gross)… Plodding predictably through family introductions…the movie leaves no racial stereotype or stale joke unturned. (Jeannette Catsoulis, New York Times)

Lucia and Marcus make a charming couple…[If director Rick Famuyiwa had focused this film] just [on] them, it might [have been] a sweet little romance. But because Marcus is Black and Lucia is Mexican American, this strained comedy focuses on the culture clash between the two families—particularly the fathers [Forest Whitaker and Carlos Mencia]. The script…runs through the dumbest racial stereotypes and idiotic sight gags… You'll wish Lucia and Marcus had eloped and taken you with them. (Sean P. Mean, Salt Lake Tribune)

While it's true that culture clashes have long been a staple element of wedding movies, Our Family Wedding… lazily [recycles] from The In-Laws, Meet the Parents, and My Big Fat Greek Wedding… (Jason Anderson, Toronto Star)

Our Family Wedding manages to be offensive to African Americans, Latinos, women, men, and sentient life forms of any kind…The only real connection the audience will have is with the actors, not the characters, as we ask ourselves over and over how so many talented people got stuck in this mess. (Nell Minow, Beliefnet)

At this point, you are probably wondering why I chose to extensively quote other movie reviewers rather than come up with something on my own. To be honest, I found myself in a situation where I thought I was going to rip this film to shreds by drawing some fresh and original conclusion, only to find out that a kajillion other more experienced and articulate people had done it first—and better.

These other reviewers are absolutely right in their assessments of Our Family Wedding; the fact they represent such a diverse range of media and geographical areas makes their opinions seem even more correct to me. To add insult to injury, this movie doesn’t even rise to the level of it’s-so-bad-it’s-good, as it telegraphs all its (weak) punches. Seriously, what made the three screenwriters think that a goat eating Viagra was funny? For that matter, when was the last time you saw a goat in a comedy that didn’t eat something it wasn’t supposed to eat?

I just saved you a lot of aggravation. You owe me. (Kam Williams, The Sly Fox)

Written by: Ebony Edwards-Ellis, March 15th 2010

Waitress

admin — Tue, 26 Jun 2007 11:53:00 +0000

Directed by Adrienne Shelley

Fox Searchlight

The untimely murder of indie heroine director and producer Adrienne Shelley was inevitably on my mind as I watched her supporting performance. Waitress is set up to make you love it, and for many reasons, one can. Lush colors, laugh out loud humor and delicious-looking pies are enticing. I also smiled at the wise casting of charming, cranky Andy Griffith and former Felicity favorite, Keri Russell, whose endearing performances will continue to garner award nominations.

But the problem with a film like Waitress is that despite what I assume were its creator’s best intentions, this tale about a poor woman in an abusive relationship is almost entirely devoid of the systemic analysis it could so easily bring to its audience. Instead, in the midst of a steamy extramarital affair, we hardly notice that Jenna has no money and that her husband, Earl, might kill her – or their unborn child – at any time. While I applaud the survivor aesthetic, I didn’t find it particularly believable.

Multiple times throughout the film, I was sure Earl was about to throw Jenna into a wall, but, miraculously, aside from a violent slap or two, he’d end up crying through her appeasing lies. His imperviousness to her obvious pregnancy was mind-blowing, and I ultimately could not be convinced that a woman with such an intemperate husband would risk an entanglement with the doctor coaching her through a secret gestation.

Jenna is refreshingly ambivalent and even hostile about motherhood, so her decision to keep her belligerent partner’s child – conceived because he “got her drunk that one night” – is surprising. Shelley could have made a film about abortion, and perhaps it’s admirable that she opened up another possibility. My mother, who had me shortly before divorcing my father, recently said, "Honey, when I had you, everything just made sense." But that potential reality doesn't make the situation any less problematic for Jenna. When her postpartum bliss and financial assistance from boss and fatherly figure, Old Joe, finally propel her to leave her abuser, are we really to trust that once their daughter is born, Earl will leave them both with any less resistance?

This is a fluffy, engaging end to Shelley's solid cinematic legacy, but it also falls short as the “feminist” film it has been labeled. A lot of fun if you don't take it too seriously, Waitress is a beautiful fairy tale that rarely comes true.

Written by: Brittany Shoot, June 26th 2007