Separated at birth: Black Swan

Friday, December 24, 2010 05:37 PM

 

One look at the poster art for Black Swan  and my 1981 class picture made me realize  what I had long suspected was true;  I do have a twin out there that I was torn from at birth by some bizarre flux in both time and space wherein I was sent backward through time and across space to the middle of Not Quite Nowhere, Ohio. Replace "ballerina" with "couch potato defaulting on his student loans" and the parallels are inescapable.  Even down to a hypothetical romantic interlude with Mila Kunis.

Black Swan was an amazing film to watch; great performances, breathtaking visual effects, and an abundance of cringe worthy creep. All these impressive elements fail to come together to make a whole that is greater than its sum.  

Much of Black Swan details the artist's conflict between the Apollonian and Dionysian aspects of creative expression.  The medium for this discussion is the White and Black Swan roles from the ballet Swan Lake.  Both these roles are traditionally danced by the same ballerina, in this case, perfection obsessed, Nina Auschenbach.   She has the technical (Apollonian) skills to dance the White Swan, but is told repeatedly that she needs to develope the passion and sensuality required for the Black Swan.  Her muse for the Dionysian Black Swan is the untamed, wild beauty of passionate co ballerina, Tadzio (Mila Kunis).

Nina's struggle to encompass both ends of the dichotomy has a dire effect on her and her art. As the Silenus  (the Dionysian "teacher figure," traditionally red headed) like Thomas, played by a very subdued Vincent Cassell, tells her, “the only person standing in your way is you.” This turns out to be true in many ways.

Casell was much more fun to watch as the wildeyed, manically grinning Joseph from Sheitan, (which I first read about here) to this very restrained but just as manipulative figure.

Black Swan also explores psychological thriller terrritory as Nina struggles to cope with her rapidly decaying world and the line between reality and fantasy becomes increasingly blurred.

In the final scene, Black Swan makes its last, and weakest, revelation; once again, the artist who gives so much of themselves to appease the cfritical masses suffers great personal injury at the expense of appeaseing the masses.

Saturday, December 25, 2010 06:33 PM

Insomniac Theater Presents: Love is strange

Wednesday, December 22, 3:22 am

Another night with out sleep.

Thank You for the Music

Wednesday, December 15, 10:05 am

I had another peaceful, perfect moment this morning.  Holding my coffee under my nose, looking out the back window at my snow covered yard, beautiful music on the stereo, the remains of an egg omelet that I had made myself on the table and everything was in place.   The universe had become balanced and I felt contentment at a great level.   It is hard to go to a place like that because they are so fragile.  Once you step out of the moment, they are gone, sending you back to an inferior place.

I think about these those beautiful moments of contentment and tried to make a list of what was so satisfying to me; there is the coffee, being in my own house, and the music.

Music is one of the reasons I enjoy being home alone.  I set my iPod on shuffle and crank op the stereo. Glorious, sensual music pours out of the speakers in a warm, glowing stream filling the air from the floor to the ceiling, with tiny, sparkling bits of sound.  

The Scream

My collection is very diverse, like several different collections combined.  I never know what will catch my ear. Sometimes  something will reach out and transform me, changing my feelings or perspective and it is not so much the genre, or lyrical quality or a specific artist;  sometimes it is just the sound.

The first time that happened was 1983, when I heard Siouxsie and the Banshees' first  album, The Scream (1978).  "Pure," the opening track is a spooky,  instrumental.  The weeping guitars,  baying moans and thunderous, rhythm less percussion caught my attention like nothing I had heard before.  Even now, nearly 30 years after I first heard it, it still makes me grin.

In my head, I saw the musicians recording the song in a dimly lit studio, wearing dark clothes, their movements slow and spare, music spilling out into the darkened corners.  "Jigsaw Feeling," the next track continued in the same way; but this time, the mood was one of barely contained energy; the slashing, squealing guitar mimicked the sound of a psychic jigsaw,  cutting someone's personality to pieces;  "One day I'm feeling total, the next I'm split in two."  A perfect reflection of the fragmentation I was feeling as a freshman in college.  By the time the final chord of the final song played, the universe had gone dark.

I had never heard anything like it before, because, you know, there was very little punk rock in small, mid-western towns like Norwalk, Ohio thirty years ago.

People who know me know I like to inflict my music choices on others-if you haven't received a mix CD from me, let me know and I will make you one today. I have no idea what will be on it or why, other than it sounded good to me.  It will be a learning experience for me.

Feeling the music in this new way gave me a new appreciation for the sounds I was hearing.  So dear Siouxsie, thank you for the music because it made my life so much richer.

Friday, December 17th, 2010 10:08 AM

Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince

Monday, December 6, 2010 09:43 AM

NB: The film version of the seventh and final Harry Potter book,  Harry Potter and the Something something, part one,  has opened and I feel duty bound to watch  it.   In preparation for the final film chapters of the Harry Potter Saga, I will watch the six previous films and write about the experience.  There will be SPOILERS !

There isn't much to say about Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince except there could have been a bigger parallel what was going on in the wizarding world and what was happening in George W. Bush's America; that is, the Post September 11 debate on safety versus civil rights.

Voldemorte and his minions excellently exploited the wizarding world's fear to further his cause, which is to end the world.

And of course there is quidditch, confrontations with Malfoy, some riddles to be solved, classroom mishaps and the usual growing pains. I am now officially ready for Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny and Dumbleodre  all face big changes at Hogwarts this year.

 

Monday, December 13, 2010 05:48 AM

Sometimes you have to take one for the team-Love and Other Drugs

Monday, December 6, 2010 08:02 AM

Sunday I settled my “Meg Ryan” debt. That is, the number of movies made for women that I owed my wife for putting up with my movie selections. We watched Love and Other Drugs instead going to see Deathly Hallows.   Love and Other Drugs is a story of a young man's transition obnoxious jack ass to self important  jack ass and then fulfilling his true destiny by become a doctor jack ass, due to his falling in love with dying woman.  Despite some bright spots, the movie collapsed under the weight of its own inaneness.

Jake Gyllenhaall plays Jamie Randall, a narcissistic pharmaceutical representative and self proclaimed shit head. In the last minute or two, he suddenly transforms from a womanizing, self centered pharmacy rep to caring nurturer and medical student.

Maggie Murdoch, adroitly portrayed by Anne Hathaway, is the crucible that provides the catalytic fire responsible for Randall's 180 degree change. Maggie has early onset Parkinson's Disease. She faces life with a indomitable, yet vulnerable, Hollywood damaged heroine way.  Her character is by far the more interesting character and I was grateful we got to see so much of her (wink wink, nudge nudge). By not concentrating more on her and concentrating too 

much on Gyllenhaal's unfunny and un-interesting character, Love and Other Drugs missed an opportunity to be a much better film.

There is a touching sequence in the middle of the film that resonated with me personally; while attending a sales conference in Chicago with Randall, Maggie finds herself in a survivors group. She leaves the survivors group with a new sense of empowerment only to encounter Jamie, who has become convinced that if they try hard enough, they could find a cure for her Parkinson's. As she tries to flourish, his well intended efforts push her back into the box of being defined by her illness.

For me, it is the difference between a sign that reads “Parking for People with Disabilities,” and one that says “Handicapped Only,” as if there were some sort of apartheid between the TAB (temporarily able bodied) and the handicapped or disabled. Because of my illness, I often need help; sometimes, to accept that help I have to surrender the undisabled part of me. Maggie does not wish to be consumed by her illness and struggles to retain her personality beyond her illness.

Given her willingness to do nude scenes and play a disabled person, excuse me, person with a disability, I am surprised there is no Oscar buzz around Anne Hathaway's performance. Perhaps there would have been if the movie had concentrated more on her character's story and less on the unfunny Viagra jokes.

 In fairness, I should mention that Jake Gyllenhaall looks pretty good naked too.

Feel free to leave your comments here on the blog page.

Friday, December 10, 2010 01:21 PM