I hear Natalie Portman got a gong or two for this, which is believable enough; it's a florid and hysterical marathon, with more than enough Feelings to make an American film panel feel like it had been hit by a train.Portman does a good job of having the sheer stamina to deliver a drama queen with no life skills; the bulk of the film away from then dance sequences has all the electricity of a desultory early rehearsal for a dance routine nobody gets yet.
The characters are without exception manipulative, preening, self-serving, hackneyed, and living at a fever pitch of performativity.
The central theme of transformation and duality ends up imploding, as the credible character required to act out (and when I write Act Out, I mean act out) these processes is completely absent.
Any of my (few) readers who gave this vomit of a film any house room needs simply to be directed to the glorious drama and globally choreographed "The Red Shoes". There's even a full review of it earlier in the blog.
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