In light of a certain movie star’s recent comments on ballet and opera, popular culture is finally talking about the two. Being as mainstream as I am, I decided to revisit two particular films that remind me what art does best: collision. Here are my thoughts on the films I watched last week and their directors.
Black Swan — Darren Aronofsky
I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with Aronofsky, and that pendulum has swung pretty heavily to the hate side in light of his recent work — producing an entirely AI-generated historical drama. ‘Erratic’ would be the best word to describe his jittery camera work, the fragmented psyches of his protagonists and the surreal narratives he develops.
These themes collide in what I believe is his magnum opus: Black Swan. The film centers around Nina Sayers, excellently portrayed by Natalie Portman, who struggles to measure up to the challenging role of the Black Swan in Swan Lake. The immense pressure coming from her obsessive mother and overbearing artistic director, coupled with the harrowing demands of the lead role, provoke her descent into madness and incessant hallucinations.
Black Swan offers a bleak commentary on ballet and performance art as a whole. It highlights the futile pursuit of perfection that some artists strive for and the severe repercussions that irrational chase can cause, both physically and psychologically.
But, besides all the complex themes, Black Swan is really, really great. I rewatched this film last week, and I remain astounded by how intentional everything is. The subtle changes in Nina’s wardrobe as the film progresses, the utter ambiguity of many events that happen to her, the unique and illogical use of mirrors — all these leave the viewer constantly guessing and questioning the reliability of everything they see.
It’s a masterpiece in the technical aspects that viewers often overlook: camera-work, art direction, wardrobe and visual imagery. Yet, the electrifying performances of Portman, Mila Kunis and Vincent Cassel are what make the jarring narrative come alive. Portman deservedly won the Oscar for Best Leading Actress for her role as Nina, with the film receiving five total nominations at the 83rd Academy Awards in 2011.
Some movies are guttural. Themes of self harm or drug use can often make watching them pretty difficult, but that catharsis is exactly the point. With ballet as a tool, Black Swan forces you to confront unsettling truths as unnerving as the film’s themes.
Maestro — Bradley Cooper
Cooper described acting in Maestro as the “scariest thing” he has done in his career; he spent over six years preparing to both direct and star in the film on famed composer-conductor Leonard Bernstein and his relationship with his wife, Felicia Montealegre.
Despite the title, Maestro is far less about Bernstein’s ferocious talent and more so an exploration of his fragile relationship with Montealegre. Opera is used throughout the film to mirror Bernstein’s internal woes, such as the use of “A Quiet Place: Postlude,” a piece about a dysfunctional family’s closeted son and mother’s funeral, closely reflecting the Bernsteins’ familial dynamics and the movie’s ending.
To Bernstein, conducting is a form of cathartic escape; the grand cinematographic scope of his performance and Cooper’s (overly?) expressive acting underscore the emotional intent that charges the famed composer’s performance. Yet, Bernstein’s performances constantly mirror his own struggles, reminding us that art can never truly be an escape — only an extension of what you feel.
Yet, to me, Maestro feels less like a lived-in portrait of the musician Leonard Bernstein than a technical performance by Bradley Cooper, who seems so intent on showcasing his filmmaking craft that Bernstein’s prowess slips out of reach. The film heavily explores the conductor’s personal life, yet it lacks an in-depth portrayal of his genius. The result is a biopic that oozes with saccharine sentimentality and feels more like a caricature.
I decided to give the movie another shot, yet last week’s rewatch didn’t really alter any of my views. I appreciate the film’s tenacity, and, by all means, Bradley Cooper does cement himself as a technically-sound filmmaker. Sadly, it feels inauthentic. On paper, it has the makings of a fantastic film, yet I just can’t seem to truly love it.
In the end, Maestro starts to resemble the very tradition it honors. Performance art constantly straddles the line between style and substance, and the film tips heavily toward the former. The result is striking, yet, akin to an opera, it is held at a distance, like something carefully staged that never quite comes down to meet you.
‘Are You Still Watching?’ is a column spotlighting what the Cornell community has been streaming. It runs every Wednesday.
Ali AlSaif is a member of the Class of 2029 in the College of Industrial & Labor Relations. He is a contributor for the Arts & Culture department and can be reached at aea252@cornell.edu.
