Black swan Notes

Black swan Notes 

That led, for instance, to Jean-Louis Baudry's brilliant analogy of the film spectator as someone regressing to the "Mirror Stage" described by Lacan). 

Frequently led to observe her own movements in several mirrors in order to refine her technique, Nina Sayers (Natalie Portman) appears in the film's first minute seated before multiple reflections in the living room of her small apartment -- and it doesn't take long until, in the subway, she's once again seen in front of her reflection while noticing a girl that, in the adjacent car, looks like a copy of herself (but wrapped in black clothes that contrast with the whiteness of her own costumes). 

Aronofsky establishes the visual logic that will govern the narrative: the contrast between white and black, and of course, the broken nature of the protagonist.

Repressed by the belief that absolute discipline will bring the technical precision that will turn her into a great dancer, the girl leaves out any pleasure that ballet can offer, mechanically repeating the steps designed by her director (Vincent Cassel) without ever feeling free enough to enrich them with the spontaneity that he wishes to witness in her as performance.

on the black wings tattooed on Lily's back and the ease with which she seduces everyone around her. Thereafter, Nina begins to use Lily as a representation of her own possible failure, creating an alter ego who, having the face of Lily, appears as a sort of Tyler Durden in slippers and black leotard.

This new side of Nina seems to detach from her more withdrawn half - something that Aronofsky originally illustrates with admirable subtlety when showing the ballerina's reflexes moving with a very slight delay until they're completely free from the original dancer, although they still remain stuck on the other side of the mirror (i.e.: in her mind) for a long time. 

And, indeed, the metamorphosis is absolute: if Nina initially danced in a cold, repressed way as Odile, in the end her fantastic dance brings her completely surrendered to the character - and Portman (and her dance double) offers an unforgettable performance by illustrating the difference to the viewer, and even her heavy, fatigued, breathing emerges as an almost sexual moaning.

Nina and Lily "Durden" are fighting for the body and the consciousness of the protagonist. Pay attention to the memorable shot in which Aronofsky seems to briefly merge the two girls in a game of reflections in Nina's apartment until Lily moves and gets separated from the other.

The weapon she uses? A sharp piece of glass. Extracted from a mirror. Freud would have experienced an orgasm with this outcome.

 Rightly so. Sometimes as a partner: spontaneous and joyful, Lily immediately presents herself as a reflection of the protagonist, having a similar physical type, but behaving in a manner that is the opposite of Portman's character - something that is reflected not only in the colors of their clothes, but also in the fact that Mila Kunis is a tanned answer to the very white Natalie Portman.