There’s a lot to like in The Black Swan.  To begin, you simply cannot beat the soundtrack!  Tchaikovsky delivers a bit stream worthy of high quality digital cinema sound systems. Natalie Portman gives the best performance of her career — now I see what the young Darth Vader and that creepy V guy saw in her! And, to cap it off, The Black Swan elegantly solves the “ballet guy problem.”  Real guys don’t do, watch, or appreciate ballet but throw in some hot lesbian ballerina on ballerina action and suddenly you’re up for a skinny dip in Swan Lake just to cool down.

I was expecting a euroweenie art film but the Swan exceeded my expectations by being — what’s that word — entertaining.  I particularly enjoyed being fooled until last scene.  There is nothing I hate more than figuring out what’s going on in a movie.  I demand that lovely confused state of mind before all is revealed. And for the denouement, I expect coherence and logic.  I was not disappointed. The Black Swan is a film ballet, NASCAR and psych patients can all enjoy for roughly the same reasons: enthusiastically endorsed.