Under the Spotlight: Natalie Portman’s obsessive performance in ‘Black Swan’
Whether you’re a fan of Darren Aronofsky’s work or not, it’s hard to argue that his 2010 psychological horror Black Swan isn’t an incredibly impressive piece of cinema. At the centre of the movie is Natalie Portman‘s obsessive ballerina Nina Sayers, who spirals into madness as she tries to secure the dual role in a production of Swan Lake. The actor gives the performance of a lifetime, rightly winning an Oscar for ‘Best Actress’.
The demanding role required Portman to embody her character’s contrasting darkness and innocence as she develops from a shy ballerina into a delusional, self-destructive tragedy. When we first meet Nina, she is depicted as innocent and anxious, living with an overbearing mother who strictly controls her life. She maintains an unsexual quality, and her bedroom reflects this, mirroring a child’s space rather than a woman in her late 20s. She’s quiet and insecure, yet her intense perfectionism and desire to become the Swan Queen overrules her personality, manifesting in disturbing ways throughout the film.
Portman portrays the obsessive ballerina perfectly and extensively trained in the art form to prepare for the role, once revealing that she was dancing for up to eight hours a day by the time shooting rolled around. During one significant scene, where the ballet director, Thomas, encourages Nina to push herself to the limit, Portman channels a lifetime of pressure and perfectionism on her face. She looks genuinely worn down, and as the camera follows her face as she dances, a sense of desperation bleeds from the frame.
With her sights firmly set on the coveted role, Nina loses her grip on reality, eventually giving in to illicit behaviours. She begins to hallucinate and finds injuries across her body – her outward appearance reflecting her mental deterioration. By the time the performance begins, Nina reaches the peak of her mental instability, and her hallucinations cause her to wobble on stage, much to the annoyance of Thomas.
Portman’s transition into her character’s darker moments works effortlessly. Rather than becoming a completely different character, Portman allows much of Nina’s innocence and insecurity to shine through, making her deranged state even more heartbreaking to witness. Her eventual deterioration doesn’t come as a shock; she works towards it from the start, and the film’s end is a culmination of many factors, such as her mother’s behaviour.
During the ballet interval, Nina has a hallucinatory altercation with her rival, Lily, who morphs into Nina’s doppelgänger. During their fight, a mirror breaks and Nina, dressed as the white swan, stabs Nina, dressed as the black swan, and a monstrous force seems to possess her as she bites, “It’s my turn!” Yet, the injured black swan transforms back into Lily, leading Nina to attempt to hide the body and blood in the bathroom. The fight scene is portrayed phenomenally by Portman, who channels sadness, anger, shock and fear over the course of a few minutes. Her face warps and contorts as she comes to terms with her actions, struggling to wrap her head around reality and fantasy.
We soon discover that Nina didn’t stab Lily but herself, and she continues to perform until she collapses from her wound, muttering, “I felt it. It was perfect,” before the screen fades to white. Portman’s face speaks a thousand words as she stares blankly above, processing her achievement despite her destructive journey. The film’s ending is open to interpretation – perhaps she died, or maybe it was just the ‘white swan’ aspect of her personality that did. Either way, Portman’s indelible performance is easily one of the best on-screen depictions of obsession in recent years.
