"You could be brilliant, but you're a coward."

Pictured: Natalie Portman in "Black Swan"

What is the price of perfection? Can it be achieved through destruction, not just in spite of it? And ultimately, is it worth it? These are just a few of the questions audiences are left with at the end of Darren Aronofsky’s “Black Swan,” a cerebral hellscape of a young ballerina’s descent into madness. Although perhaps the most confounding question I and others were left with was quite simply, “What did I just watch?” I mean this not in a negative sense, but in the sense that it was so visceral yet alienating that I truly was unable to liken it to any film-going experience I have had in recent memory, if ever.

The story tells of Nina (Natalie Portman), a precocious ballerina devoted to the technique and skill of her craft, but not necessarily the art of it. However, she must confront her perfectionist attitude head-on when she is cast as the Swan Queen in her company’s upcoming production of Swan Lake, which will call upon her to play the naïve White Swan as well as the dark, seductive Black Swan. As the parallels between the ballet and the narrative race toward the climax, we see that perfection, for Nina, will cost no less than her very sanity, if not her soul. Add to this the threat of ambitious newcomer Lily (Mila Kunis) and the suffocating presence of her overbearing mother (Barbara Hershey), and it is no wonder Nina finds herself unraveling so quickly.

The performances are relentless and unforgiving. Portman throws herself from scene to scene, daring you to call her dainty. Indeed, she herself must play two roles: the aggressor and the victim in one woman, a challenge she meets with ferocity and poise. Kunis offers rich contrast as the effortlessly sensual Lily, embodying the care-free spirit Nina both resents and longs for more than anything.

However, the brilliance of the film lies in its first-person storytelling. You blur the lines of reality and fantasy as Nina does, your skin crawls as hers does. It is as internal a journey for the audience member as it is for its leading lady, which makes for an extremely uncomfortable viewing experience, but one I consider truly unique. Even the sequences that take place during the dancing itself are shot on a single-person handy-cam, placing you directly into the fray and frenzy of it, which seems to be a crucial element in articulating Aronofsky’s ultimate goal: to show ballet for the blood sport it can be, and the lengths to which some artists will go not to achieve perfection, but to discover what it truly is.