'Black Swan.' Directed by Darren Aronofsky.

Produced by: Scott Franklin, Mike Medavoy, Arnold Messer, and Brian Oliver.

Written by: Mark Heyman, Andres Heinz, and John McLaughlin. Story by: Andres Heinz.

Starring: Natalie Portman, Vincent Cassel, and Mila Kunis.

Music by: Clint Mansell.

Cinematography by: Matthew Libatique.

Edited by: Andrew Weisblum.

Distributed by: Fox Searchlight Pictures.

Release Date: December 3^rd, 2010.

Running Time: 108 Minutes.

Budget: $13 Million.

Gross Revenue: $123, 229, 061.

For those out there that happen to have an appreciation for film philosophically, and also happen to be fans of the horror genre, Black Swan is a treat indeed. This is the first intelligent horror film I’ve seen since Antichrist by that eccentric Dane, Lars Von Trier. In fact Black Swan explores similar themes to Antichrist, albeit in a more approachable manner. It’s a film concerned with mental illness that actually gets down and dirty with the sheer horror of the disease of schizophrenia.

Mental illness, in particular, schizophrenia and psychosis, is a truly frightening phenomenon. Too often, movies about it glaze over the scary aspects of psychosis, as if it were a necessary chore they need to get out of the way before they reach a feel good ending that often has no basis in reality. With A Beautiful Mind, Ron Howard and Akiva Goldsman completely sanitise Sylvia Nasar’s autobiography of the brilliant mathematician John Forbes Nash Jr. Russell Crowe’s Nash is an awkward gentle giant figure, but in reality, Nash did a number of strange things that just wouldn’t fit into a Hollywood film. I’m not in the business of gossip, so I shall leave you to investigate these behaviours if you wish. What I’m trying to say is that schizophrenia is not the picnic that sanitised Hollywood films would lead you to believe it is. Plenty of people learn to manage it, but plenty don’t as well. I recall a recurring segment on the Australian radio station Triple J that featured interviews with a young woman who suffered from schizophrenia known only as ‘Mel’ who ultimately ended up committing suicide.

How this relates to Black Swan is in the way in which Aronofsky depicts schizophrenia, which is really quite delightful despite its horror. Natalie Portman’s Nina is a ballerina in the highly competitive New York City Ballet Company, and she has just landed the coveted part of Swan Queen in the Company’s latest version of Swan Lake. The film is expertly crafted by Aronofsky so that we start outside of Nina’s mind and eventually end up becoming so a part of it that we can’t really tell what’s real and what is not. Nina is plagued by disturbing hallucinations and events that really frighten her. Though I’m sure they are probably exaggerated for dramatic effect, I believe that this is a very close portrayal to how it actually might be to suffer from schizophrenia. What’s more is that Aronofsky achieves what no film (that I know of) has done before, finally touching on the complex relationship between consciousness and art.

The world within Nina’s mind might be frightening and outrageous, but it has its own logic. Throughout the movie she strives for perfection, constantly telling the hideous ballet director that she wants to play the Swan Queen perfectly. The role of the Swan Queen, which involves a girl’s transformation into a swan at the hands of an evil sorcerer, and also her eventual suicide, is pure fantasy. However, Nina, perhaps subconsciously, realises that in order to play the Swan Queen perfectly, she must literally become a swan. Since human biology isn’t in the business of true metamorphosis, Nina’s fractured mind takes up the task, convincing her that black feathers are growing out of the cuts that she has on her back, and that her eyes are almost completely red, like a swan. By literally becoming the swan, and by later literally achieving what the Swan Queen does in the finale of Swan Lake, Nina is able to give a perfect performance. This raises all kinds of questions about the relationship between consciousness and art that have only adequately been explored in the writings of Franz Kafka, and the other Modernists.

All literary theory aside, ‘Black Swan’ achieves what it sets out to do well. Aronofsky is one of those great directors that really manages to build psychological tension in his audience. This film, like Requiem for a Dream before it, infiltrates that dark space of your mind where the nightmares live. Portman is great, and she deserves the Oscar if she gets it. There are a lot of really disturbing sequences in this one; the kind that make you wince and then laugh gruesomely before finally thinking ‘That is so fucking cool!’ I don’t think I’ll be forgetting Winonna Ryder’s handiwork with a nail file any time soon, that’s for sure.

Five Stars:

'127 Hours.' Directed by Danny Boyle.

Produced by: Christian Colson, John Smithson and Danny Boyle.

Written by: Danny Boyle and Simon Beaufoy (screenplay). Aron Ralston (book).

Starring: James Franco.

Release Date: November 5^th, 2010.

Distributed by: Fox Searchlight Pictures.

Studio: Film4 Productions and HandMade Films.

Running Time: 94 Minutes.

Budget: $18 Million.

Gross Revenue: $25, 356, 549.

If The Social Network is about the poison that is Facebook and the modern era of online socialisation, then 127 Hours provides the antidote. James Franco plays a contemporary-- I wanna say metrosexual but not quite-- mountain climber that gets his arm pinned between a boulder and a rock wall. Of course the 127 hours of the title is the time he spends down in the canyon, quietly going insane before finally performing the infamous amputation that sets him free. All of this is based on the real life incident that happened to Aron Ralston, who gained a bucket load of media attention seven years ago for being that mountain climber guy that got stuck between a rock and cut off his own fucking arm. Look, this movie works on so many levels: It is simultaneously panic-attack inducing* and inspiring. It also provides the kind of subtle depth that will captivate ruminative audience members and dumb mother-fuckers alike.

No, this isn’t a garden variety ‘Man survives in the wilderness’ movie, catered only to fans of stupid TV shows like Man vs. Wild. It’s also a sophisticated commentary on the current popular culture environment, wherein everyone is a potential reality TV contestant, entitled to the fame and glory that comes with their fifteen minutes. Franco’s character achieves a metamorphosis that is not jarringly obvious or pretentious: From a self-absorbed (though extremely likeable) young man to a utilitarian agent with an almost Buddhist sense of appreciation for the people in his life, and life itself.

127 Hours opens with bright cinematography that is a refreshing change from the more muted, dark and sombre cinematography of the other Oscar nominees. The mountains of America, which were grey and depressing in True Grit, shine golden against the bright blue sky, and everything seems to be filled with such outrageous colour that you don’t know how anything bad could possibly happen. Franco’s character, Aron Ralston, is introduced and is such a cool guy that you immediately wish that he was your friend. Then the incident happens and Franco’s facial expression leaves you with such an immediate sense of isolation, that you do realise that he is probably completely fucked.

I guess we could talk about how well the film is made (and it is), but I’m trying to wrap these little reviews of mine up in five hundred words or less, so I want to talk about the dominant theme of the movie, specifically how it contrasts with the themes of The Social Network. There is such an emphasis on popular culture in this movie, that you can’t help but think that some social commentary is going on. When Aron gets thirsty, Boyle has cut in some shots of Coca Cola commercials where glistening glass Coke bottles pour the sparkling liquid into cups. I’m not sure whether or not this was product placement, but it works well regardless. You get the sense that Franco’s Aron is very much a child of consumer capitalism. This coupled with the fact that Aron selfishly ignores his mother’s phone call in the beginning of the film, and seems to be quite upset that he did so, points to this idea that if Aron wasn’t so deeply ingrained with a false sense of heroism (probably imbibed through Hollywood movies), he would have avoided this scenario. 


When Aron is forced to deal with a surivial situation, he is also forced to mature and realise that he is far more dependent on other people than Coke commercials and blockbuster films might have led him to believe. The Aron that emerges from the canyon at the end of the film-- sans arm-- is a much more appreciative Aron; one that would never slag off an ex-girlfriend on the internet or liken females to barnyard animals.

I really liked this one.

Five Stars:

* During the second screen of 127 Hours at the Telluride Film Festival, an audience member had to leave the cinema due to a panic attack. Apparently the amputation scene was a little too much for him.

'Friday the 13th.' Directed by Sean S. Cunningham.

Written by: Victor Miller.

Produced by: Sean S. Cunningham.

Starring: Betsy Palmer, Adrienne King, Harry Crosby, Laurie Bartram, Mark Nelson, Jeannine Taylor, Robbi Morgan, Kevin Bacon and Ari Lehman.

Release date: 1980.

Budget: $550, 000

Gross Revenue: $59, 700, 000.

So I needed to take a break from watching the Oscar nominated films. There is only so much depth I can handle before I sink into an existential funk and start to conclude that literary film is nothing but an exercise in pretention; a wank, if you will. It’s at these times that I need to consume the film equivalent of a Big Mac.* Something dumb and fun to remind me not to take things so seriously.


If there is one movie completely devoid of intellectual merit, it must certainly be the original Friday the 13^th. But is it any good? Not really, no. Just how ‘bad’ is it? Well Betsy Palmer, the actor who played Jason Vorhees’ mother, the original killer in the movie, famously said that the only reason she agreed to do it was because she needed to buy a new car. After reading the script, she called it a “...piece of shit.”

I am however convinced that the original Friday the 13^th (not the remake, I can’t stress that enough) is one of the sacred few movies that has become ‘good’ thanks to the slow passage of time. I want to say that it is like a fine wine, but that analogy isn’t really apt because wine is enjoyable at any time, whereas when Friday the 13^th was released in 1980, it was just a shitty copy of the much more successful Halloween.

No, Friday the 13^th experienced a strange metamorphosis, probably in the 90’s thanks to the movie Scream, where it became good because of its badness. Watching it for the first time since I was thirteen, I was surprised at how much fun I had. My friend and I spent most of the 90 minutes either coming up with Kevin Bacon jokes, trying to guess which of the stupid teenagers was going to get cut up next, or pointing out the bleedingly obvious sexual symbolism inherent throughout (such as when the innocent teenage girl finds a snake in her cabin.)

The shittier the film got, the more fun it was. By the time Betsy Palmer showed up and started talking as her dead son, saying “Kill them mommy” in a high-pitched ‘kids’ voice, you are so patched into the nervous system of this tremendous piece of shit that you are willing to follow it anywhere. And in terms of bat-shit insane plot twists, you’ll be following it as if it’s the bendiest, joltiest rollercoaster ever made. Just after the protagonist kills Mrs. Vorhees, for some unknown reason, the surviving girl gets into a canoe and floats into the middle of Crystal Lake only to have a deformed Jason pop out of the water and drag her under. Cut to her waking up in a hospital, and at first we think it’s just a nightmare, but then she asks the sheriff if they found the boy in the lake and he says “No.” And she says “Well that means he’s still out there.” Roll Credits.

What the fuck man? So was it all a dream? If it wasn’t, does that mean that Jason has been living under water for all these years? And how come in the later movies he’s a grown man, but in this movie he is still depicted as a kid? Maybe there is an answer in the sequel, which I’m sure I’ll review at a later date. But as it stands, the ending to Friday the 13^th deserves an Academy Award for ‘Most Contrived Ending Tacked On The End Of A Movie To Get A Final Cheap Scare.’

To close off, I’ll comment on the special effects of this film, which are actually pretty good. It makes me wonder just how much of the film’s budget went on make-up. Probably all of it. It sure as shit didn’t go to any of the actors, who all looked like they were offered a cabin to stay in, and all the marijuana they could smoke, in exchange for their acting skills. Although, seeing Kevin Bacon get skewered through the 

throat as he smokes post-coital pot is something you never get over.

Three stars: 

* I am aware that Stephen King penned this phrase in reference to himself, and I love it. Sometimes you do need to stray away from literary films to get a good dose of pulp. And hey, Big Macs do taste pretty good.