OscarsFest 2011: Psychotic Ballerinas

Believe it or not. I used to to ballet. For 7 years, I donned tutus, and leather slippers, and pale tights. I slicked my hair back into a bun. I turned out my toes, and plied with the best of them. It may be difficult to comprehend, what with me not being the most graceful or coordinated of humans in my current state. I am the klutziest person I know, with falling apart joints and more scars and dings than I would like. But I used to be quite the lithe, flexible thing, with limbs under control. Of course that was before puberty hit. And an independent social life. And, as if by some strange coincidence (by which I mean no coincidence at all, in fact closer to the direct cause), my exit from the world of ballet coincided with the introduction of en pointe shoes to the class - the satin ones with the clonking great chunks of wood in the end.

Where I grew up, The Insular Peninsular, dance was a pretty big deal - the Morrison family had the monopoly on teaching all forms of dance in the sleepy suburb, and my high school had a pretty awesome track record at the Rock Eistedfordt. And then I encountered The Dancers at uni, another breed of female altogether.My views of them at the time were less than positive. They were always giggling, always wore their hair in a high, swishy ponytail, and in the theatre classes were always making inane comments that demonstrated limited knowledge of (in my not-so-humble-at-the-time opinion) of the far superior subject matter of the dramatic arts (as opposed to rolling around on the floor. Ooops I mean, modern dance.) When I went back to uni a few years later, a little older, wiser and far less arrogant, my opinion of The Dancer changed dramatically (pun entirely intended) as I worked with them in education classes. This is how prejudices are destroyed.

Black Swan does nothing to dispel a negative image of The Dancer. Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) is a devoted ballerina - 28 years old. Young in comparison to the retiring Beth (Winona Ryder - a little bit of art reflecting life? She is playing the washed up has-been. And unfortunately it is a slipper that fits), but little effort has been made to disguise Portman's well earned wrinkles. She is given the once in a lifetime opportunity of playing The Role of Swan Lake, the twin blades of the weakling, fearful White Swan, and the vindictive, seductive Black Swan. She is a technically brilliant dancer, precise and detached - basically the White Swan is captured in her dancing perfectly. But she fails to evoke the passion and unpredictability of the Black. And this frustrates her misogynistic and autocratic director, Thomas (Vincent Cassel.)

The nightmarish experience of dealing with self-doubt, director's criticism and a smothering mother (Barbara Hershey) is the strength of the plot, as we a drawn through he experience along with Nina, never knowing what is real or what is her imagination gone haywire.The extreme pressure, or perhaps the predisposition for psychosis, but poor Nina drops fast through paranoia, hallucinations and full on schizophrenic episodes, in the quest for the perfect performance. The deterioration of her psyche is literally reflected and refracted through the ever-present mirrors that confront her everywhere she goes. The first act is weaker - establishing the misery of her strictured life through the power of a hand held camera is not nearly as interesting as her descent into madness.

There are a number of concepts arising from this film that have already been a bit of a preoccupation for me. The fact that I was aware of this in the middle of watching the film may say something about my level of absorption (is that even a word?) in the story, but I became more soluble towards the end I think.

First up, the whole idea of performance, of engaging the audience in a moment on the stage is certainly not foreign in my life. One might call my focus on the theatrical akin to obsession, especially about 10 years ago. And some of my friends from these heady days have actually become more than a touch successful. I am positive that all of my other friends are sick and tired of hearing the CLUNK of my name dropping about my fabulous tribe. But I digress... My point is that I have come to see up close just how the life of a performer is affected by them becoming their occupation. There is a bar scene in the film where a guy asks Nina who she is, and she answers "a dancer," because it isn't just what she does, it defines her absolutely. I have seen how this happens to real people, not just the elite New York prima ballerinas. I have seen relationships disintegrate under the pressure of the inward focus required of a performer. Portman and director Darren Aronofsky have captured this all-consuming introspection pretty perfectly - for Nina, she is the centre of the universe, and it is probably her pushy, ex-ballerina mother's fault.

The possibility of friendships - genuine, supportive and completely lacking in competition friendships - between women has also been something I have considered carefully. I think I first examined the issue when I was directing a show about the topic. Second wave feminism (oooh, I used the F word!!!) was in some ways striving to break down the barriers of competition - striving for the same men, the same jobs, the same money - and the intra-gender resentment that went along with that competitive streak. In the high-octane arena of performance - especially a female dense (read: bitchy) environment such as ballet - the competition is fierce. The thinner, the stronger, the more technical, the more artistic, the more passionate, the more reliable... the better? But what if that isn't the same person? The company director Thomas (pron: Toma. Under no circumstances should you pronounce the S!!) plays on this, by pitting the dancers against each other, and using their insecurities to his own ends - that being artistic adulation for him. Plus his over-use of the casting couch is more than a little unethical. A performer's ego is fragile and when there are younger, more vibrant girls lining up to stab you in the back (or drug you out of contention), the pressure is bound to be immense.

And speaking of the gender see-saw in the dance world, Thomas is really the only male of significance in the show. Sure, there are the 2 ballerinos, but they barely share 5 lines between them. Thomas is the centre of this microcosm, and he has surrounded himself with delicate flowers. Dance, as an industry, has never really had the reputation of being feminist friendly, even aside from the cut-throat competition and ambition. Anorexia is rife, weight pressure must be immense, not the accepting and welcoming environment for all shapes and sizes. I mean, one hardly gets the impossibly high cheek bones, razor sharp shoulder blades and the neck of a swan on a diet of hot chips and beer, right? And there is the sheer fact of The Gaze - Ballerina as The Viewed, not as The Artist. Thomas is the genius, and Nina is his moving canvas. There is very little empowerment for her, aside from the recognition of filling her potential within her director's vision. And how does this compare to the film as art? Director? Male. Writers? All male. Producers? Out of the 15, only 2 are ladies. Cinematography (the eye of the gaze)? Bloke. The production design, costume design and set design are all XX chromosomes, and they have done a particularly good job in it too.

I guess my point is that this film seems to be about a female character, incapable of dealing with the pressures of reality and her life, as contrived/observed by males. And I guess there is far too many of those films out there that I don't think that more examinations of the issue actually solve it. As has been said on Cougartown (an underrated comedy, I feel) "Them bitches be loco!!" But there doesn't seem to be much examination of WHY we bitches be loco, and what can be done to un-loco us, or at least un-loco the future bitches of the world.

But enough of the existential navel gazing. Sure this film made me think about things I have already thought about. But more importantly, what do I think it will do in The All Important Oscars stakes? It could get in on editing, and there is a chance for cinematography (it certainly is noticeable), but I highly doubt a director's or best film nod.

Best Actress though? Portman could well have it in the bag. She already has the SAG (teehee!) and the Golden Globe. And she is pretty darn phenomenal. Lots of reviewers (and my facebook friends) have commented on the weirdness of some of the plot points, but I think she carries these less-than-conventional horror scenes well. Her dancing is phenomenal, when the hand-held camera work lets us see it - wait, I think I am beginning to sound like David Stratton here... Anyway, from what I remember of ballet, she was pretty technically perfect. Excellent form, beautiful lines, elegance, poise... anyone might think she has been doing it all her life! She is capable of both the fragile and the passionate; she does not have the same battle that Nina has between the White and the Black sides of the role. Her confusion and frustration with her life, especially as it descends into chaos, is almost palpable, and I defy anyone not to be taken on this exceptionally emotional journey with her. Granted, I haven't seen any of the other Actress in a Leading Role performances (partly due to the shithouse delay on Australian releases, partly due to West Bubblefuck cinema being hopelessly inadequate in getting films not from the Family/Action/RomCom sections of the cine-file), but I think I will put my bet on Portman's sublime performance in this film.

And aside from the fact that she is rakishly thin in this role, she is totally stunning.

Let's not and say we did

All of the good stories have been told. All the good ideas have already been created. There is no originality left, and there is no goodness left in the search for originality. These are pretty much the central tenants of the post-modern world we live in.

But the good news is, in this po-mo wasteland, that if we look at all the good stuff that has come before, all we need to do is mash it together in new and interesting ways to create new and interesting works of art. Everything old is new again.

And this is where we find Easy A.

In the minefield that is John Hughes' resume, there are several diamonds of coming of age films. He is the greatest auteur of the teenage film to date, and I can't see him being superseded at any point in time. Chicagoan high schools have not been examined by anyone else with such detail, insight or poignant  The Breakfast Club plays with the archetypes of high school, all forced together in the confines of a weekend detention. And they each learn about each other, and themselves, before the detention in over.

The seminal 80s flick, Ferris Bueller's Day Off has so many dead ends in plot, so many enormous question marks about the relevance of various elements - as Easy A rightly points out, there really seems no point to the street parade with "Danke Shoen" and "Twist & Shout", but it truly is a great deal of fun. Maybe the point is that in adolescents, so much of the stuff that is done has no other purpose than mindless fun.

And my personal favourite, Cameron Crowe' Say Anything. Film makers and TV show creators have been paying homage to this film for decades now. South Park, Greek, Grey's Anatomy, The Simpsons, House and Lost have all made reference to the oh so iconic scene of John Cusack, boombox held aloft on the front lawn, belting out Peter Gabriel. Of course, the one I love best is the Spaced, with Tim and the gang in a stolen army tank, belting out Take That to win back Marcia into the modern urban family. It is such a shame that Crowe then went on to make such steaming piles of crap as Vanilla Sky (and if you haven't seen that film, please never do - it is two and half hours of your life you will never ever get back) and Elizabethtown. He is great with music though - Almost Famous is pretty brilliant, and at least the soundtrack for Elizabethtown is pretty good. But I digress, in a fairly major way.

And all of these 80s cinematic gems get a nod in Easy A, as the pinnacle of all things aspirational in a teenager's life. Judd Nelson's victorious fist pump, as evidence of his emotional connection to a lass. Escape via a ride on lawn mower chariot. And John Cusack, revealing his innermost soul through ghettoblaster speakers.

The premise of the film is basically this: Olive (Stone) lies to her bestie (whom she doesn't really like - it must a teenage girl thing, because I think I remember that sensation) to get out of weekend camping. Her lie involves a steamy date with a older boy, where she loses her V-Plates. News of her de-plating spreads fast, and she is branded all kinds of double-standard-derogatory-names by the viscious rumour mill of high school. The boys of the lower castes of high school get wind of the fact that it is a lie, and she gets all kinds of favours and gift cards to lie to the rumour mill about various sexual favours she performed for them - so they can get sexual kudos. Meanwhile, her social stock dwindles to nothing, as she takes up the Harlot mantle she has been branded with with great aplomb. But then it all kind of falls to pieces. So she uses the power of the internet to broadcast the truth about the whole sordid affair.

Emma Stone is golden in this film. Her spunky attitude and husky voice have easily made her the sexiest thing about both Superbad and Zombieland. She carries the film well, and delivers the sharp and pacey dialogue to perfection. I am always a sucker for fast-paced chat in any kind of pop culture, and when it is rich in double entendres and decorated with 80s film references, all the better! Why her character feels like such a shrinking violet is a complete mystery to me - the girl is smoking hot.



There has been some criticism leveled at Easy A for being a less-than adequate remake of Nathanial Hawthorne's antiquated and dry The Scarlett Letter, a la Clueless/Emma. But I don't think it is a REMAKE of the book - a book I think I studied in Year 10 or 11 (and thought was lame and dumb and stupid. Unfortunately, I didn't find the message inside it with such clarity and poignancy as Emma Stone's character did in this film.) It may well be a relook at the themes and events of the book, through the lens of the 21st century. But even then, the approach to adultery is just a little bit too Overly Judgemental for my liking. I mean, I realise that most of my time is spent with Boys in this here Factory, and the film mostly focuses on the Girls and their perspective. And perhaps in Australia, teenagers have a slightly more cavalier attitude to sexing than in the mostly-white suburbs of California. The whole notion of being branded a "super-slut" after reportedly sleeping with just one guy is a bit difficult to swallow. But I do still know the awesome power of the rumour mill, which is still alive and kicking in West Bubblefuck, even if it is slightly less judgemental in the adultery stakes.

But that is basically the butt of the satire here - people treat sex with such a strange mixture of fear, excitement and hypocrisy, and the human desire for salacious gossip is really its lowest form of entertainment. The twisted Chinese Whispers games of high school actually don't change much as life goes on. It crosses cultures and countries and generations. And it really shows the nastiest side of human nature when it happens. Don't get me wrong, I've been a Grade 1 Gossiper in my time, and have been stung from the rumour mill myself.

The Evangelicals are also susceptible to some scathing parody in this flick. Amanda Byrnes is brilliantly over the top as the incredibly pious and uber-bitchy leader of the God Squad. She seems to have forgotten the Golden Rules of Do Unto Others, and Judge Not... And instead delves into the mucky gossip with great gusto and furious piety. I read somewhere that she came out of retirement for this film. How old is she? And WHY is she retiring? I mean, I know she only has a repertoire of 7 facial expressions, but she is really very good at all of them. The Bible Bashers don't often cop a beating of their own, especially in mainstream Hollywood fodder. And I think it is interesting how the Kumbayah mob are really shown to be shallow and judgemental rather that sharing, caring Christian souls. And when it comes to High School Holier Than Thous, I have seen, and I know where the truth truly lies.

The Real Love Interest (rather than all the Red Herring Fake-Shags) that Olive has is Mascot Todd - the delectably-chested (if tiny-nippled) Penn Badgley, also seen being broody and clever in Gossip Girl. And while he is incredibly good looking and pouty, he still hasn't quite shown any depth of talent, other than skin deep. Really, give me John Cusak any day of the decade.

The highlight of the whole film are the slivers of scenes with Olive's parents. Patricia Clarkson and my super-fave tiny bald man, Stanley Tucci are just delicious in the scenes of suburban bliss. They are the kind of parents that don't get on celluloid very often - witty and slightly awkward but not embarrassing. The biggest difference between Olive's folks and mine is that I still can't extract salacious details about my parents youth from them,but Olive's are all about the overshare.

Oh, and the tagline of the film was already in my everyday vernacular - "Let's not and say we did"

Physics in action.

And I'm an English teacher.

I was never much good at Physics at school. I am ashamed of how little I know about amps and watts and terminal velocity (other than the Wesley Snipes film, which is appauling).

But I seem to recall a little pithy piece of information from the dark recesses of my Physics memory.

It is more difficult to gain momentum, than to keep momentum.

As in Physics, so in life.
This week (and it is only Tuesday, mind) has heard me tootling along in my off-key voice "The first week is the hardest," bastardising Rod Stewart for my own ends. And it is. I know we teachers get great masses of holidays, but I firmly believe they are earned. We work damn hard those weeks that we are on, and we do a job that The Haters wouldn't touch with someone else's tax file number.

And nobody likes that Back To Work feeling, post blissful summer. Not the Boys, whining in their trussed up ties. And not the teachers, with their soon-to-be-faded thong tans on their feet.

Don't get me wrong, the prospect of being back in a classroom is exhilerating. And the notion of My First Ever Drama Class has me excited out of my skin. But as much as I love my job, "It's always better on holidays." Thanks Franz.