The Movie Scab Reviews: "Black Swan."

"The scab you're picking at is called execution."

--American film producer Scott Rudin.

Black Swan makes Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 1 look like best picture of the year--I say this because I thought the Harry Potter movie just might be the worst movie of 2010. To my surprise, and dismay, that is not the case. There's an even worse film: Black Swan. It takes itself so seriously--“We're making Art here, people!”--that I wished I was watching ballet and not this movie. I hate ballet and this movie made me want to watch ballet. Now, at least with ballet you know you're watching something that lots of people around the world traditionally take seriously because it’s considered “serious art.” You may disagree with those people, as I do (I hate ballet), but still, ballet has plenty of credibility behind its serious arty pretension because it’s been around for a long time (a lot longer than the movies) and it takes years and years of serious training to become a serious ballet dancer--got to respect that. A movie about ballet is not serious art. A movie about ballet is simply a movie, an entertainment about serious art, and by and large most people around the world, including the serious people who love ballet and call it serious art, know movies about ballet are simply movies about ballet and not serious art or, come to think of it, the cure for cancer. Again, I absolutely hate ballet, but the thing that drove me crazy was: Watching Black Swan made me want to watch ballet! Ballet would have been more entertaining, more fun, and far more original than this insipid meat cleaver to the face—thirty seconds into the opening credits and it is clear that Natalie Portman’s character is madder than a hatter and there the guesswork ends; the conspicuous meat cleaver has spit your face in two, but does director Aronofsky stop there? Nope. His disgust for subtlety (of any kind) knows no bounds (or shame). He wants us to be so sure that Portman is madder than a hatter that he meat cleavers us in the face over and over: “She’s madder than a hatter! It’s all in her head! Get it?” Yes, Darren, I got it thirty seconds into the movie when the first meat cleaver got me square between the eyes. This film is so bloody obvious that I began to wonder if Darren Aronfosky simply doesn’t want his audience to use their brains when watching one of his “serious art-house” movies. (“We’re not only making Art here, people, we're curing cancer!”) Is he so threatened by someone else’s interpretation that he leaves no possible room for interpretation? Is that the reason for the meat cleavers to the face, Darren? If true, I’d argue Aronofsky’s got some issues that he might want to take up with his urologist. There isn't an original moment in this predictable, so-called “disturbing” movie—disturbing? It's disturbing that Black Swan is so bad it made me want to watch ballet! That’s disturbing! To make matters worse (if that’s possible, and dear God in heaven it is), there isn’t a likeable character in the entire film. Now, there’s nothing in filmmaking 101 that says you have to have a likeable character in your movie, but basic storytelling will tell you that if you want your audience to connect in a way that matters having a likeable character might be a good idea. In the very least, have an unlikable character find some kind of redemption at the end so that the audience will feel emotionally satisfied. In “Black Swan” every character is not only an obvious stereotype, they’re repugnant. (When Barbara Hershey came in as the “evil ballet stage mother,” I thought I was watching bad satire.) Talk about feeling cheated: I’d wasted money, life, time and energy watching this golden calf to mediocrity, and to make matters worse there is no redemptive moment for any of the repugnant people at the end! Not one of them. Not that it mattered. Not that I cared. At that point I was, like, well, geez, I can’t stand these people. I can’t stand spending time with these people. They’re mean-spirited, selfish, and crazy, Aronofsky hasn’t made me care a damn about any of them, and because of his obvious meat cleavers to the face I know what’s going to happen at the end. It isn’t my fault that I felt this way. It’s Darren Aronofsky’s fault. Not surprisingly, Black Swan made me think of another worst movie of 2010, an un-comedy called Due Date. That film had no likeable, redeemable characters in it either. At the end of Due Date the two main characters were still as unlikable as there were when it started, and since the audience couldn’t sympathize with or root for or care for either one of them, since the audience couldn’t connect in an emotional way that mattered or meant something worthwhile, the movie fell flat and fails at the end, an embarrassing comedic disaster. Well, Black Swan makes Due Date look like the smartest movie comedy made since Duck Soup, and that’s saying something. When the end did finally come (thank God), was I surprised, shocked, horrified, confused, sad? No! I just wanted to get out of the theatre and see some ballet! And this brings me, finally, to Natalie Portman’s “brave” acting job: Brave because she lets a hot chick go down on her and shows us her orgasm face. Wow, that takes some talent. (Porno stars do it all the time, but they’re professionals so they make it look easy.) Halle Berry did the same thing in Monsters Ball, and she did it better, longer and with Billy Bob Thornton—now that’s what I call brave!—and at least Halle showed some boob! All we get in Black Swan is Portman’s worried orgasm face. Of course, she’ll be nominated for an Academy Award for Best Actress (because she was so brave—“We’re making Art here, people, curing cancer and bringing peace to the world!”), the same thing the Academy did for Halle, but Hollywood has a tradition of rewarding actresses who show us their orgasm faces in movies. Put a famous actress in a movie where a guy or girl goes down on her and she shows us her orgasm face and you can be sure she’ll receive a nomination. Most of the time, they don’t do that for the men. (Sean Penn got the Academy Award for best actor, but he didn’t do an orgasm face or go down on a guy in Milk, so that doesn’t count.) It’s usually just the ladies. Hollywood’s orgasm face double-standard, like this typical Hollywood movie: A steaming heap of hubristic crap.

My rating: Six Irish Car Bombs with a Mind Eraser shooter, and a ticket to the ballet.