#framesandrevolutions

[framesandrevolutions]

The Pursuit of Perfection in Black Swan

Darren Aronofsky's highly acclaimed Black Swan (with 268 nominations and 92 awards) is more than just a film about ballet. It explores the haunting meditation on perfection. We watch the main character, Nina Sayers, played by Natalie Portman, unravel as she chases an impossible standard set by everyone around her, but most importantly, herself. But what even is perfection? Is it about flawless execution and devotion, or paradoxically, is perfection found in letting go?

Perfection as Obsession

Throughout Black Swan, Nina drives herself toward an unattainable ideal. Every injury, every hallucination, every obsessive practice session pushes her further away from reality. The pursuit of “the perfect performance” becomes her greatest motivation, yet ultimately leads to her destruction. Her story mirrors similar portrayals of perfection, such as I, Tonya, which depicts the darker costs of obsession in the athletic world. Whether on the ice or on the stage, perfection demands sacrifice, but is the price too high a risk? Is it worth it in the end?

The Shifting Definition of Perfection

Black Swan leaves viewers with questions rather than clear answers. Is the perfection we're seeing on screen a result of discipline or avoiding mistakes? Is it about surrendering control, just as Nina does in her final performance? At the end of the movie, after whispering, "Perfect, I was perfect," you can't help but wonder: was it the fact she finally let go or the technique of discipline she perfected that made her "perfect."?

Perfection as Illusion

Nina's ultimate goal is to embody the "flawless" ballerina, one who doesnt make any mistakes on stage, similar to her predecessor (played by Winona Ryder) and this idea or symbol of the "ideal" artist. However, this ideal is incredibly fragile. The film suggests that perfection isn't absolute; it's a social construct—an expectation imposed upon her by teachers, peers, her mother, and even herself. It's her own personal cage disguised as a trophy.

The Takeaway

Black Swan doesnt give us an answer, it provides us with a mirror. Nina's downfall isn't just about her ambition or career in ballet; it's about the cost of chasing something that might not even exist. Perfection is revealed as a shiftershifter: discipline, surrender or sometimes just an illusion we are taught to believe in. But isn't that the point? Perfection isn't meant to be reached, only pursued. A dream that can inspire and destroy. So, when watching the credits, we ask: Was Nina's final breath a victory or an illustration that perfection wasn't even "real" to begin with?

[framesandrevolutions]

The Kind of Girl Who Quotes Movies No One Knows

Have you ever been told, “You have such sophisticated taste in movies, how do you do it?” Yeah, me neither. But I have been praised for my taste in film. Why, though? I’ve never seen myself as someone with particularly innovative or even “good” taste. Most of the time, I feel like I’m in a bubble surrounded by people who just happen to get cinema better than I do.

People who have watched obscure Eastern European films from the '60s and can analyze them without sounding like a pretentious Letterboxd review. So, where does that leave me? Somewhere in between admiration and impostor syndrome. Today, I’m unpacking the idea of taste, whether it’s really as unique as we think it is, and if quoting movies no one knows makes you cool… or just the girl who spends way too much time agonizing over which obscure coming-of-age film to watch next.

Is taste earned, learned, or just projected really well?

Growing up, my parents introduced me to almost every classic American director they could think of: Wes Anderson, Kubrick, Scorsese, Spielberg, Gilliam, and the Coen Brothers. Our living room was basically a crash course in the American film canon. But as I got older, I started flipping the script. I was the one making them watch Fellini’s 8½, Truffaut’s The 400 Blows, and Leone’s The Good, the Bad and the Ugly. So naturally, I started wondering: was I born with good taste, or did I build it over time? Or maybe the better question is: what even is taste?

The Subjectivity of Taste

We love to say it’s subjective, that it all comes down to personal preference.

But is that really true when entire platforms and social circles revolve around what’s “good,” “cult,” or “aesthetic”? According to the article “The Role of Aesthetic Taste in Consumer Behavior” (2011), taste is defined as “the ability to recognize and appreciate qualities of style, beauty, or excellence in creative expressions such as music, art, or fashion, based on individual or cultural preferences.” So if both personal experience and cultural influence shape taste, then maybe having “good taste in movies” just means you’ve learned to recognize what’s considered beautiful, meaningful, or impressive within a certain world.

You’ve picked up on the signals, what kind of cinematography is praised, what kind of pacing feels “serious,” what aesthetics are seen as cool. But that brings up a more profound question: If our sense of taste is shaped by what we’ve been exposed to by our parents, our friends, and the internet, can we really say it’s ours? Or are we just mirroring the values of the culture we happen to be in?

When Algorithms Choose for You

It gets even foggier when social media platforms like TikTok, Letterboxd, and YouTube start introducing us to specific aesthetics, directors, or genres. The more we engage, the more we’re fed, and before we know it, we’re all watching the same set of “underrated” films, each of us convinced our taste is niche and original. But how unique can our cinematic preferences really be? Millions of people have watched these same films. Thousands have them proudly displayed in their “Top 4” on Letterboxd. And if we’re honest, every part of our taste, whether it’s a love for certain directors, actors, or visual styles, has been softly shaped by the media we consume every day.

And yet, despite knowing all of this, I still catch myself quoting movies no one else in the room has seen. Not to sound cool or elite, but because those lines have stayed with me. They’re part of my rhythm. I grew up quoting them. So did my parents. It wasn’t about being impressive, it was just how we communicated. A shared language made of strange dialogue, forgotten characters, and moments that meant something to us, even if no one else knew what we were talking about. It was less about recognition and more about resonance. Because here’s the thing: maybe taste isn’t really about what you like. Maybe it’s about why you like it and how deeply you let it affect you.

So, What Is Taste Really?

Whatever it is, maybe I’m not the kind of girl with the most original or groundbreaking taste in movies. Perhaps I’m just a product of my environment, my parents’ endless DVD collection, my TikTok algorithm, or my oddly specific Letterboxd watchlist. But that doesn’t make my taste any less mine. Taste isn’t really about competing about who’s the most unique, who can reference the most obscure quote, or who has the most intimidating watch history. It’s about what shapes the way you think, talk, and feel.

The movie you watched the summer after you turned 13. That one line that felt so relatable has stuck with you ever since. Or even just a piece of dialogue you still think is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. That’s what taste is. So yes, I’m the kind of girl who sometimes quotes movies no one knows. But it’s not because I want to be different. It’s because those moments, those lines, made me feel something, and I haven’t let them go.