Black Swan- holy shit. What a film.

"We're all mad here, I'm mad. You're mad."
-Lewis Carroll

Madness is the apex of all great conflict. We all have points of madness, awareness of mania in the circumstances that surround, and a fascination with those steps that lead to that point, that apex, that loss of control resulting in a need to assess, reorganize, rebuild or let go. We all know madness. It falls apart, at some point, or it builds- a never-ending ebb and flow of humanity, emotion, investment, call it what you will. We are trained to achieve- to build- to grow- to accomplish- to ascertain and to revel in the reward, whatever it may be, or to move on, lessons learned, tucked into the back pocket of identity. Madness is a part of the human condition.

It is no surprise that madness is in the architecture of many, if not most, films, literary works, works of art, performance and other forms built for an audience. Madness and beauty. Film-making, itself, is a maddening art. Madness is not pretty. It is not gorgeous. It is meticulous. It is laborious. It is a series of steps getting to a place of completion that is arguably completed. If a film is to be released, it is just that- released. Let go. Like the release of any goal, whether it to be to achievement, growth, distance, back pockets, what you will.

It is rare that an American film catches madness as Darren Aronofsky's film, Black Swan, has done. This film catches madness in simplicity and familiarity, following Nina in a place of consistent discipline as she traverses, not into madness, but with it. That is madness. So many performances and journeys focus on the descent into madness, and this film articulates the maintenance. The result of this difference is that the aftermath, if there really is one, is almost a relief. Beauty is as translucent and visceral as simple scenes and camera angles that catch pedestrian moments and associations: the muscled back of an aged ballet instructor, building and contorting with escalating movement and precision in a simple frame demonstrating a wingspan growing into flight- articulating an architecture of discipline and prowess, while showcasing the movement of each muscle and years of formation and structure as only a veteran of the movement can do. Black Swan is not about ballet, or the rigors involved in the precision of that particular discipline. But you see it. It is clear and accessible where madness fits within Nina; as a punctuation. It is beautiful and gruesome. And a sidenote. A structured evidence. It is a given circumstance. In this quick shot, anyone knows that Nina's journey is one that has been prepared and accepted and a part of a process. There is no "Rocky Balboa triumphant running up the hill" to it. Nina is clearly skilled and trained and aspiring, and has been for years. No need for concern about her well being, on that point.It is what it is, and the focus remains on her as the protagonist, deemed fragile, clearly being guided, and craving perfection. Ballet is a perfect industry for a backdrop to this story, for that point. It is an art built on precision. A perfect choice. She is clearly marked by the scars of direction, again placed in a pedestrian denouement. Because the story of her journey, again, in not a descent into madness; it is the maintenance of madness. There is no blame, no fall, merely following through. Kudos to all involved in this film- it is a delicate balance to tow the line of madness in this manner as there are so many temptations for all involved to "jump the shark" of imagery, performance and direction. This film is full of that constant opportunity, with a clear budget to do so. Constantly teetering on the edge, form and function maintained itself with integrity and real simplicity. How balletic, right?

For this reason, madness gets to take center stage. This is a treat, a ride and completely terrifying. As an audience, we are not confused by side plot-lines and confusing choices. It all makes sense. There is no muddling, aside from some lighting choices in the ecstasy sequence, which I can forgive, and the idea that Mila Kulis' character, Lily, could be on the same level in ballet with shoulder tattoos and approving dancing sequences with free-flying hair, while overseen by superiors in the dance studio. I know enough about the ballet world to raise my eyebrows there and shrug my shoulders, because I get that it establishes her "rebel" stature. I understand that we are still an american audience. I could even create a list of moments, other than these, that I'd normally attach myself to in disbelief. But I won't, because I didn't, while watching the film. There are some definite points of the film that get "that close" to making me want to call bullshit and rolling my eyes. But those points weren't pushed past the melodrama point in which they could have been. Which makes it more authentic. Because melodrama is also pushed in pedestrian life. I bought it all.

The only film that I've seen that has hit madness so closely is Roman Polanski's "Repulsion." He, however, was not able to so deftly avert melodrama. His heroine did hurt others, rather than merely herself(which true madness is so closely married to self destruction), outside of the visions and dream sequences, and that built the waves to carry the madness ship home. Polanski didn't skirt melodrama in "Repulsion." He hit the madness, but Aronofsky eclipsed him with the maintenance. I guess it was time. 45 years will do that, right? There is something more horrific and identifiable in the vision of hurting and haunting, without the actual implementation. If, as a society, we were to look at those who are truly influenced by this idea of terror, the truly terrific awareness would not be in those who find a means to an end by hurting others, but by those who end themselves. It's all terrible and frightening, yes, and certainly not to be celebrated, as neither Black Swan nor Repulsion do, but Black Swan almost seems more disconcerting because it hits a bit closer to the madness that we all share. Varying degrees, of course, but to stand on the outside of watching someone accomplish their goals and potentially expire because of them, versus watching someone haunted and reacting to that haunting. There's something to that. Perhaps it is more terrifying because Nina is as haunted as Catherine Denouve's character, leaving a trail of evidence along the way that the audience sees, while those around her do not. But Nina's character is more public, watched over in every moment by friends, trainers, herself, and not "left alone for an uncomfortable weekend of rage." Is that the melodramatic difference? That it is public, in every sense? Is that the comparison between the two films, and a statement on the world now, versus then, in a cinematic sphere? It's certainly not "The Social Network." I love this film.

All of the performances by the actors were stunning. Good work, guys.