After its premiere at Venice in September, no other film arrived at this year’s BFI London Film Festival with quite as much hype as Black Swan. Advanced word had already propelled Natalie Portman as the early front runner on everyone’s Best Actress list for the upcoming awards season, whilst the director, Darren Aronofsky, was looking to augment his reputation as one of the best American filmmakers working in the industry today.

Set in the highly competitive world of professional ballet, Black Swan is a vividly intimate portrait of a veteran dancer unravelling. Played with fragile grace by Natalie Portman, Nina, a seasoned ballerina, wins the title role in her prestigious company’s newest production, “Swan Lake”.

Nina’s preparations for the opening performance soon become hampered by a web of competitive intrigue that forms with a younger rival, Lily (Mila Kunis), as they both jostle for the attentions of the artistic director (Vincent Cassel). The performance requires a ballerina that can play the White Swan with innocence and grace, as well as the Black Swan, who represents guile and sensuality; Nina naturally reflects her role’s ethereal qualities, whilst Lily is the personification of an enigmatic doppelganger.

As their rivalry continues to grow, the dark impulses of the production slowly engulf Nina, and the pressure ultimately transforms her from a naive performer into a dangerous, metamorphosed creature.

Aronofsky has constructed a perfectly paced thriller that is undeniably and gloriously over-the-top. In continually building the momentum to an unparalleled finale, the film zips along with confidence and creates an unrelenting crescendo using the key elements of “Swan Lake” – the swans, demons and doubles – which become entwined with Nina’s psyche. Moreover it serves as a worthy companion piece to The Wrestler, (also shown at the LFF) and another opportunity for Aronofsky to explore the physically demanding realm of a largely unseen world and the obsessive pressure to be perfect.

Similarly, Black Swan is told in a cinéma-vérité style and uses the immediacy of this visceral camera technique to masterfully convey the poetry of the body and the demands of ballet to the audience. The raw, hand-held work helps create a growing sense of unease and it also captures the energy and sweat of the athletes on show. Anyone that had previously doubted the skill and arduousness of ballet will come away converted.

No one would be surprised to learn that Portman spent 10 months vigorously training for the role of Nina, and she puts in a revelatory performance thoroughly deserving of the hype. At once delicate then provocative, Portman captures both sides of the Swan perfectly and the film really belongs to her, yet she is also joined by a capable supporting cast.

Mila Kunis, as the complete antithesis, finally gets a meaty role outside of being the token girlfriend to burly men in action pictures, and Vincent Cassel is ever reliable as the Machiavellian coach. Winona Ryder and Barbara Hershey also appear in a film that is universally well-acted.

Complimenting the talent is the score by long-term Aronofsky collaborator, Clint Mansell. A highly respected craftsman, whose work includes Moon and the ubiquitous Requiem for a Dream title song, Mansell skillfully weaves strands of Tchaikovsky’s iconic music throughout the score. His soundtrack helps to create extremely vivid sequences away from the claustrophobic confines of the rehearsal room, especially during a striking clubbing scene that sees Lily trying to sabotage Nina.

Ultimately Black Swan is a daring odyssey about an artists obsessive quest for perfection, however brief or fleeting that moment will be. It frequently toys with the body horror of early Cronenberg, without ever fully adopting this approach, and also thankfully avoids a fairly obvious Fight Club twist at the climax. However, this shouldn’t be surprising, as none of these comparisons should be taken as a final word, as Aronofsky has created a marvellously original piece of work and a stand out film of this, or any, year.

Black Swan will be released in UK cinemas on February 11, 2011.

Michael Caine stars as the eponymous Harry Brown, an elderly ex-Royal Marine, who lives alone on a grotty estate terrorised by gangs of local youths. His dying wife lies in hospital and when Harry receives a call telling him that she is about to expire, Harry has to take the long route to the hospital, fearing to walk through an underpass occupied by the youths.

His one friend, Leonard Atwell (David Bradley), is sick of being intimidated and one night, pushed to the edge, he decides to show the miscreants a lesson – with a foot-long knife. Leonard is murdered and Harry decides upon vengeance.

The plot takes a while to gain dramatic torque but the film is rife with detailed shots. The camera lingers on Caine’s eyes as Harry drinks a lonely cup of tea in a grey flat. We take a voyeuristic look through his curtains at youths committing crimes, and feel Harry’s sense of impotence at being too powerless to get involved. There is an obvious social element to this film – ‘Broken Britain’ as the Tories would have it –and Harry exacting his own justice is perhaps what the film suggests we all do.

As social commentary the film doesn’t work due to the fact there’s nothing to suggest the cause of the deviancy, but as a collage of estate crime and the lonely life of a pensioner, the film is authentic. There’s a gritty turn by rapper Ben Drew better known as Plan B and Emily Mortimer portrays an earnest but foolhardy detective.

The ending wakes things up as police try to contain a riot caused by their crack-down on the gangs. The excellent camera work, by Martin Ruhe, takes a steady look as mayhem breaks, evoking memories of the recent Paris riots. When final revenge and peace on the estate is realised, we are left with a film with dubious morals but an authentic atmosphere. An interesting combination that would have been better had we been provided with a strong character to rival Harry Brown on the side of the disaffected youths.

Sarah (Shauna MacDonald) emerges from the Appalachian Mountain’s cave system alone following the epically disastrous expedition with her five female pals. Distraught, confused and covered in the blood of others, it’s not really surprising that the poor Scot is crazed with fear (this isn’t even taking into account that she’s already lost her kids and husband). There’s a slightly convenient plot whereby the local sheriff is so suspicious of Sarah’s account of events that she’s is forced back into the caves to explain what really happened. If you’d been through what she’d experienced, you’d probably prefer to rot in a US jail than face that fate, but off they go to the mountains for the biggest ‘I told you so’ of their lives.
Although there’s plenty of B-movie style gore, the real terror comes from the sense of claustrophobia (created at Ealing Studios, so a long way from the location portrayed) and new director Jon Harris (editor of the original) is just as bold as the original’s Neil Marshall when it comes to veering off the ‘safe’ path, literally and metaphorically. Not one for the faint hearted.

And so we have Drag Me To Hell, a flick that follows the story of Christine Brown (Alison Lohman), and ambitious LA loan officer who has it all on a plate until she gets on the wrong side of an old lady facing financial ruin (did she not learn anything about not messing with gammy-eyed crazies from Hansel and Gretel?).

Now, I’m sure plenty of us have wanted to curse the odd loans officer in our time (verbally, at least), but I’d still say Alison doesn’t really deserve eternal damnation (or the plague of flies buzzing after her) for denying a mortgage extension. Still, with a spell cast over her she must race against the clock to break the curse until evil closes in and she’s dragged right in through the gates of hell.

As for the viewers, they’re dragged through a rollercoaster rather than cinema hell – just as long as they don’t expect too much.