Black Swan & Arranofsky.

Spoilers below for Black Swan, The Wrestler, Pi, Requiem for a Dream, and The Fountain.

Let me tell you a story:

An individual, an expert in their field, becomes obsessed with something they see as completely unobtainable, maybe it's something impossible, or something they themselves find impossible to do, maybe if they did this thing or found this thing, it would be dangerous to them, nevertheless, they want to find it. They become obsessed with finding it, so obsessed in fact that the journey to finding this thing or doing this thing completely destroys them and the only way out is by achieving this final thing which may or may not result in their deaths.

Pretty interesting story right? How about if I tell it to you again, and again? How about a third and fourth time? No?

Well Darren Arranofsky thinks he can. In his time as a filmmaker he's made a living off reproducing the above plot almost entirely plot point for plot point and substituting mathematics for drug addiction, wrestling and ballet. His scripts and films at first appear high art, something akin to David Lynch or Dario Argento but they have all the artistic quality of a Paul Verhoven flick.

I'm not putting his films down. Although I despise The Fountain and Requiem for a Dream, both of which are silly overblown pieces of nonsense and one of which (I still can't understand why) is considered a classic. I feel that Pi is quite a fun little film, and The Wrestler (whilst a mess of cliches) at least is anchored by a pretty good performance by Mickey Rourke. Black Swan though is a different kettle of fish.

I liked Black Swan, it was a fun film to watch. I came out thinking the same thing I thought about Rosemary's Baby, The Fly, Jacob's Ladder, Carrie and pretty much every body horror film ever made. But then I thought about what people were saying about the film. That there was an element of complex intellectualism going on somewhere within. That this was somehow both a completely big silly horror film, and an intelligent study on the intense pressue that playing dual identities can have. Black Swan is only one of these films. It is not the latter.

First off, let's look at the main story of the film. A timid dancer who dresses all in white, gets the part of the Swan Queen in a production of Swan Lake. She is criticised for not being more like the Black Swan. So she becomes more like the Black Swan. In the finale of the production of Swan Lake, the Swan Queen kills herself, and the dancer kills herself during the same moments. This is after four mentions (count them) in the opening half an hour, spelling out the plot of Swan Lake, LIKE IT WAS THIS IMPORTANT. If you were writing an intelligent, complex film which mirrors the plot of Swan Lake (which is a good idea), the worst, and most obvious thing to do, is to continually tell the audience how the story of Swan Lake ends. Because let's face it, not everyone wants to know how the film their watching is going to end.

Now, how about the dance atmosphere itself? That doesn't hold up particularly well either, the dancers we see are bitchy about talent, looks and people's age. The background characters don't get a look in other than that and the main cast don't fare too well either. Natalie Portman's character is seen throwing up in a toilet. She has a mother who was a failed dancer (and shock...blames it all on her daughter) and appears to have forced her into this lifestyle. Portman, as the White Swan is constantly seen wearing white, throughout the film (until the end). When we meet Mila Kunas' character she is shown wearing all black, smoking (in a non-smoking building...oooooh) and with a tattoo.

Just a Pi ends with it's main character performing surgery with a drill, Requiem for a Dream concludes with it's main character's all retreating into drug fuelled fantasies that may kill them. Just as The Fountain ends with the future Tom burning alive to bring the tree of life back, so The Wrestler ends with Mickey Rourke performing a possibly final stunt in the ring. And so to does Black Swan end with Natalie Portman in her possible final moments.

I didn't hate Black Swan, I actually quite enjoyed it, but I enjoyed it despite everything I've written about. There's a fun little horror film in that mess of cliche. But I'm jumping on this now, I've had enough of bad writing in film, enough of poorly flagged moments and terrible characters. The Social Network proved that film doesn't have to be enjoyed despite certain things. Great, classic films can still be made, and Arranofsky hasn't made any of them.

Maybe one day though.

What I've Been Reading: It's a strange world.

High concept is tough to make good literature. There's a readership out there who devour anything with big ideas and only big ideas, who love to see titles like 'Cowboys and Aliens' 'Cowboy Ninja Viking' or 'Superman and Batman VS Aliens and Predator'. But then the story can fall apart under the lack of story. Concept isn't story, concept is bigger than that, and if that's all you have, then you don't have a story. Just ask Michael Bay.

But then, sometimes, you come across the high concept that works, the one that fuels great characters and that makes you think of impossible things.

Here's a few of them.

Planetary

Planetary is the work of Warren Ellis and John Cassaday, and tells the story of the Planetary organisation; a group of archeologists of the impossible who travel around the world uncovering the secret history of the planet and universe.

The villains of the series are The Four, an analogue for the Fantastic Four, they are made up of four astronauts transformed by a trip into the multiverse who now spend their time stealing artifacts and learning the secrets of the world, only to store them away. The Planetary organisation's goal is for this knowledge to be shared across the world, their motto being, 'It's a strange world, let's keep it that way.'

Ellis uses Planetary to discuss big ideas about the formation of the universe, creation myths, and comic book theory. In the seventh issue of the series, 'To be in England, in the summertime' the team head to England to attend the funeral of Jack, a John Constantine analogue. John Constantine for those who don't know, is a Scouse magician and the star of Hellblazer, once upon a time Vertigo's flagship series. Using the funeral as a set-up, Ellis crafts a tale that takes a look at eighties and their effect on comics.

When a former goodey-two-shoes superhero shows up to murder the already dead magician, he begins monologuing about how he used to have an origin based on good old fashioned family values, he had a wife and kids and then suddenly found his origin was actually grim and gritty and horrible.
(Click to enlarge)

Essentially what Ellis is doing is a critique of Alan Moore's handling of superhero's in the eighties, the way in which dark, more realistic stories took over from these golden age tales of derring do. It's an incredibly sad story, with strong work that takes it above and beyond the basic concept of 'what if Marvelman killed Alan Moore for what he did to the character'?


The Infinite Vacation

Nick Spencer made it into my top ten of the year last year for all his brilliant writing on various projects. The Infinite Vacation is his first new series this year (he's also taking the reigns of Supergirl, and War Machine later this month). It tells the story of Mark, or rather the multiple stories of Mark. He's part of a future world in which you can swap lives with any number of parallel versions of yourself for a price. See a girl in a cafe who leaves before you make a move? Just buy yourself into the universe where you did. Ever wonder what would have happened if you'd dropped out of college and set up a surf shop? It's just a click away. Mark's problem is, he keeps ending up dead.

Really this is the highest of high concepts, similar in nature to Grek Pak's 'Vision Machine' which involves an iPhone app that can let you edit and play with reality. The Infinite Vacation doesn't just allow the concept to carry the story along, rather it uses it to explore what kind of a person would use that kind of a system to live.

How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe

Charles Yu writes and stars in this novel about himself. Set in a science fictional universe in which the physics is only around 90% complete (meaning some areas don't really have anything like gravity) and where aliens, ray guns and the Death Star all bump together in a hefty bundle of cliches and mad ideas, the story concerns Charles Yu, a time travel machine repairman. Time machines can be confusing bits of technology, most people assume that obtaining one means you can go back in time and change things, make your life better, but that's not the case. In fact, changing things just throws you into a parallel world or gets you stuck in a loop. Charle Yu makes the mistake of shooting his future self, who steps out of a time machine trying to hand him a book called 'How to Live Safely in a Science Fictional Universe'.

What sets this apart, and makes it work is how Yu writes each scene with such a hefty dose of science fiction and bonkers maths, but skews them with an emotional punch that keeps it grounded. When you read the flashbacks of him and his father inventing time travel, it's dealt with in the same way you would expect to read about a father and son tinkering with a go-kart in the garage. When he goes back in time to view these scenes, and realises he can't change anything, it's a smart way of showing flashbacks and keeping a human level to the story.

Whilst the ending isn't as good as the preceeding pages, the novel is well worth a look.

All the above titles can be found in most brilliant bookstores!