This psychological drama involving the disintegration of a prima ballerina is chilling and disturbing. The search for excellence beyond all reason is certainly a cautionary tale for those who pursue it and those who encourage them.

The vehicle for this crackup is apt; an alternate take on the ballet, “Swan Lake” in which the white swan and the black swan are danced by the same ballerina.

Nina is a long-member of the corps of the ballet company attached to Lincoln Center. When the prima ballerina is forced to retire, the master of the corps announces that he will be casting the dual role within the company. Nina wants very much to get this plum role but the corps master tells her only her while swan is good enough. She goes to see him to change his mind but he again says she lacks the passion of the alter ego. He kisses her and she bites him. He is encouraged by this bite and gives her the part.

Meanwhile, a ballerina joins the company from San Francisco. She is everything Nina is not. The psychological disintegration becomes very evident as Lily seems to befriend Nina. It is getting hard for us to distinguish what is psychosis from what is real.

There are fine performances by Natalie Portman as the unhinged dancer and Mila Kunis as the uninhibited new arrival. Barbara Hershey is a frightening stage mother and Winona Ryder becomes increasingly macabre as Nina falls apart.

Portman won an Oscar as best actress in 2010.

(Spoiler Alert)

What makes this a depressing film is not the exact story portrayed but the overwhelming prevalence of this working-class storyline. While it plays out everywhere, it is as American as baseball.

While this is an utterly realistic story, the fault lies in the script, jointly authored by Derek Cianfrance (the director) and two others. It is nothing new that a girl gets pregnant by one man or boy and she is rescued by another man or boy. If that girl has to force herself to like or love the rescuer, the embryo should have been terminated for the benefit of all concerned.. In this film, the girl, played by Michelle Williams, has chosen abortion rather than taking up the rescuer’s (Ryan Gosling’s) proposal of marriage. Only on the operating table does she get cold feet about the procedure and runs out to the waiting room to agree to marry her current lover, Dean.

At the film’s beginning, we meet Cindy having some rough, casual sex with a boyfriend, ostensibly the father of her child. What’s telling is that several years later, she runs into him in a liquor store. Dean is in the car. Cindy lights up like a Christmas tree and both are flirtatious. This is the only real show of emotion on her part in the entire film. She is sorely tempted when he asks her if she’s actually faithful.

While we get a good look at the Gosling character and can admire his naïve, caring qualities, despite his capacity for drink and violence, we don’t get much to like about Cindy. Although we learn from her mother that Cindy wants to be a doctor, we see nothing portrayed of her intelligence, wit or empathy. We certainly don’t see how she will pay for medical school. It’s like a five-year old saying, “I want to be a fireman when I grow up.” To be fair, Cindy comes from parents who don’t love or even like each other. Her father is at least psychologically abusive to her mother. At the pre-op session, she admits that she has been sexually active since the age of 13 and has had about 25 partners. She seems to have a relationship problem involving intimacy. Why she has chosen to marry this man is not explained. Perhaps it harkens back to her mother and father. I don’t believe she would have a problem with being a single mother. She seems to be an empty shell as she marries and becomes a mother. Her new husband is a high school dropout without any real ambition.

Blue Valentine weaves back and forth between their early relationship and marriage to a time five or six years down the road. In the newer scenario, the couple has a five-year-old daughter and they live in a small town in Pennsylvania. The now-older husband is an alcoholic and works free-lance as a house painter. Cindy is depressed and tired. Her husband seems to be the primary caretaker of the little girl. She has not become a doctor but seems to work at an imaging center nearby, perhaps as a technician. She has had enough.

Dean has some discount coupons for a motel and he suggests a romantic weekend away. She is not thrilled but agrees to go along. Although this was meant as a means of bringing them closer together, it goes all the way to tearing them apart. Granted, the husband is not too bright or worldly, but he loves his wife and family with all of his heart. He is a drunk, he can be violent, he is a ne’er do well, but at heart his instincts are good. Perhaps he would have accomplished more if he didn’t marry Cindy. He is just the wrong man for his wife.

As the film ends I feel that she will go from man to man, choosing liaisons over commitment.

My husband claimed that I would LOVE this film and when I had absolutely nothing else to watch, I caught up with it on premium cable.

Since I was told that it was a film about Jewish Montreal, I did approach the film with a bit of an attitude; for me, only New York Jews are the real thing.

I had a lot of trouble relating to Barney. There is absolutely nothing to like about this man. He is unpleasant, self-involved, slovenly, a drinker, a cigar smoker and an obsessive hockey fan. That this mess married three wives is certainly a stretch. We can’t even say that he has a good moral compass. At his lavish Jewish wedding, he glimpses Miriam and decides that SHE is the love of his life. He leaves his own wedding to chase after her. Miriam eventually becomes his third wife. We have no idea of why this beautiful, grounded woman marries the shlubby Barney, but marry they do and they have children together. They stay married for many years.

There is nothing essentially ‘Jewish’ about this story. In fact, whatever is shown of a Jewish environment seems to be shown in a mocking light.

There are good performances here. Paul Giamatti does a great job as the unappealing Barney. Minnie Driver is wonderful as the jilted bride and Dustin Hoffman is great as Barney’s ex-cop father. I wasn’t particularly thrilled by Rosamunde Pike’s performance as Miriam. If she was the ideal woman for Barney, I found her too cold to be attractive to anyone.

I would like to read Richler’s novel and see if there is something there that the screenwriter and director Richard J. Lewis lost in translation.

It took me a few days to decide that I really liked this rather unsettling film. Set in Suffolk County on Long Island, this suburban drama involves three separate, non-intersecting stories on a given day. The characters only share close proximity of their property in a given neighborhood. We are given few clues in this highly-stylized film. There is no real beginning, middle or end. There is no real storyline. We are just spectators, sucked into what makes us feel like voyeurism. I felt really uncomfortable while watching what should have been private foibles.

We encounter an unhappy middle-aged man in the opening scene. His marriage is not working out and he is in the process of going somewhere. He misses his flight and comes home to look at his own family through the windows while pretending to be at the airport.

We see an eight-year old girl finding her mother’s birthday gift, trying it on and having trouble taking it off when she has to leave for school. Since she has missed her school bus, she takes a shortcut through a neighboring backyard and encounters a teenaged neighbor masturbating in a shed.

Then we meet up with a middle-aged housewife who answers her doorbell and only see and hear her end of the conversation. We later learn that a famous actress has rented the house across the way and has asked for a lift to the ferry in Port Jefferson.

What evolves is a view of some very intense actions and realizations as the three go about very human moments before our eyes. We can certainly feel their pain, frustration and embarrassment as the tableau unfolds before us. I don’t think this film is for everyone, but it is very fine movie making. It is critically acclaimed, having won the Sundance award for direction in 2010, as well as other prestigious awards. The cast features Embeth Davidtz, Edie Falco and Elias Koteas and was written and directed by Eric Mendelsohn.

I don’t know whether my parents took me to see this film when I was a child or whether I saw it on television later on, but I know the movie has had a chilling impact on me for years. I tuned in to TCM today and, unfortunately, had missed the first 23 minutes. I learned from the coda that this was based on a true story, so it’s even more frightening.

Since I grew up in Queens, the accused’s neighborhood was very real to me. References to Roosevelt Avenue in Jackson Heights and the ever-present ‘el’ on that thoroughfare are eerily realistic. What happens to musician Manny Balestrero could happen to any of us. It is especially familiar to the poor. Manny is Everyman; he works hard, is a decent family man and is falsely accused of a crime. He is in debt and was merely trying to cash in part of his wife’s life insurance policy to pay for her dental surgery when he is mis-identified by witnesses at the very same agency where a man of similar appearance robbed the establishment at gunpoint a few days before. Everything goes against this unlucky man and we find him out on bail as he and his wife try to prove his alibi to no avail. Rose Balestrero is so anguished about their situation that she has a nervous breakdown and is committed.

Directed by Alfred Hitchcock and starring Henry Fonda and Vera Miles, this film is even more chilling today because we know that at this very minute someone is protesting his innocence and will be ground up by our justice system. Shot in blank and white and on location in New York, this film is a real jolt to the nervous system. I think it’s brilliant and a must see if you can find it.

After 80 years, this German film still hits its emotional target in a big way. Despite our modern sophistication, director von Sternberg gets to our universal vulnerability, being fools for love. If you say you’ve never been in this position, you’re in denial.

Based on the novel, “Professor Unrat” (Professor Garbage) by Heinrich Mann, the classic film takes us to a heartbreaking and all-too-familiar place in this cautionary tale of a pompous, prim professor who falls down the proverbial rabbit hole.

Professor Rath, is employed at a ‘gymnasium’ or boys’ high school in a small town. Although he is strict, his students find ways to disobey him and laugh at him behind his back. He discovers that one of his boys has picture postcards of an entertainer called Lola Lola. The obviously lurid singer is plying her trade in their very town! He must rescue his students from the clutches of this destroyer of young boys! He goes to the sleazy club to confront the hussy. Rath, instead, falls hopelessly in love with Lola, and as she sings “Falling in Love Again” directly to him, he changes from a disapproving academic to a puddle of Jello. Soon he proposes and Lola accepts. It all goes downhill as Rath must quit his teaching post and go on the road with Lola and her troupe. Now he is selling the very postcards that shocked him to her audiences. He must take on unflattering roles in the nightclub appearances. He is a broken, humiliated man. Lola is no angel and there is no love lost between them. This is a brilliant film, perhaps one of the best ever made.

The portrayal of Rath by Emil Jannings is breathtaking, Marlene Dietrich is at her stunningly gritty best as Lola, the direction is flawless, the subtitles are in keeping with the American slang of the day and the tragic storyline is timeless. If you don’t get to see “The Blue Angel,” at least go to YouTube to see the classic rendition of “Falling in Love Again” by Dietrich, offered in English and German. Wow!

I must offer the disclaimer that football is my least favorite sport; in fact on a scale of “How Much Do You Hate Sports?” football is by far at the top of the list. It is a mystery to me why spectators would pay such attention and money to watch padded men crash into each other. The blaring coverage is another reason to avoid this sport. The problem is, I can’t really get away from it. Years ago, I made a pact with my husband to get him to leave the house on the weekends if he could listen to sports in the car. I detest this sport most of all; it’s something I can’t tune out when it’s on the radio. It is surround sound that permeates my brain and causes me physical distress. I find it particularly odious in traffic jams.

With the purchase of a second television 30 years ago, I was freed from this non-stop sports barrage, at least at home. I just don’t get this virulently male obsession with all things relating to sports. And I really don’t understand team loyalty. How can you devote your heart to a specific professional sports team when management is always buying and selling the players? My husband used to be a Brooklyn Dodgers fan. He still wears the hat. BUT, he has been a Yankees’ fan since the team left Brooklyn. It makes no sense to me. One season blends into the next. Football and baseball overlap. There is no peace in our household.

I approach the controversy regarding Joe Paterno/Penn State with an obvious bias against the idea of physical games, marathons and contests. I truly hate sports of any kind and this is brought about by living with a sports addict. It’s personal.

I can look at the firing of this coach of coaches, this legendary figure spanning many decades, in an objective manner. I am out of the loop. From what I can ascertain, if sports is a religion, then Joe Paterno is the Pope.

We have to examine hierarchy in the context of religion. It is blasphemous to defy the Pope. His word is law throughout the faith. We have to assume (or at least hope) that this figure is of the highest moral and spiritual character. The office is larger than the man. Everyone says that Paterno is the most powerful man in the state of Pennsylvania. If he says he reported abuse to his ‘superior’ it’s clearly insuffient. He’s just another old boy in the old boy’s club. He’s the Pope. Everything else is on paper.

It’s hard for me to believe but football is part of an educational institution. As such, the coach is an educator. An educator has the responsibility to report abuse. It’s a legal responsibility. We’re glad when a teacher learns of abuse in a student’s home and contacts authorities. The students who were sexually abused were not Paterno’s students but his assistant was committing these crimes as a paid and very public representative of Penn State. There’s no question that Sandusky will be going to jail. He should have been stopped a decade ago. A revered coach decided not to rock the boat. After all, he made his report and felt he did his duty. He may have done his duty to the university, but in doing so, he was part of a cover up. We know that Sundusky just kept on raping little boys. He wasn’t going to give up the mechanism he’d devoted years to creating in the guise of philanthropy and sportsmanship.

It amazes me that Joe Paterno’s firing is now creating spirited demonstrations in his behalf on the campus. Their protectionism of this man under the circumstances is really alarming. We have to be more careful to whom we offer homage.

In a world in which we seldom see justice, it was gratifying to see Dr. Conrad Murray judged guilty and led off in handcuffs to the Los Angeles County jail. The lines have blurred lately between right and wrong for some of us and those who actually know the difference and choose to do the right thing are usually considered saps. I was actually certain that Dr. Murray would be acquitted; it’s the new way of the world! We have come to expect that a jury will go so far to look for “reasonable doubt” that “doubt” of any degree becomes the normative process for formulating a verdict. This is ludicrous and obviously guilty parties are free to do whatever they please without punishment, a la Casey Anthony and O.J. Simpson. The reason that this verdict was a guilty one is the direct result of what has been called an intelligent jury by analysts. It’s almost a miracle that the defense and the prosecution agreed to seat this particular group. Usually, the lowest common denominator is selected. Thus, the group can be easily swayed and unable to draw the inferences vital to a circumstantial case. Most of us are reluctant to do jury service and the pool of the willing is awfully shallow.

Getting back to Conrad Murray, it was crystal clear that the man abandoned all sense of propriety and professionalism when he agreed to give an obviously addicted man a totally inappropriate substance in an inappropriate way. His reason? The patient begged for it. The person in question was the best-known performer on the planet. If Murray turned him down, he’d have to relinquish the keys to the kingdom. The doctor was acutely intoxicated not by Propofol but by the nexus to celebrity, his own financial windfall and his massive ego. He left questions of morality and medical ethics at the doorstep on Carolwood Drive. Imagine going to your primary care physician and begging for morphine or opium. You know the answer and you don’t ask.

With the invitation to be Michael Jackson’s personal physician, Dr. Murray understood the hiring as a promotion of his usual self image as a medical saint to that of God. Jackson was ensnaring him for a specific purpose; Murray understood the ‘tribute’ in a much different way. Anyone can be carried away by the prospect of breathing the rarified air of the elite and, at first blush, answering in the affirmative. Didn’t he question why Jackson was promising him the moon? I would be dazzled and puff with pride. It’s normal human behavior. His folly was to learn after the fact that he was to be a drug procurer and administrator and to go along with it.

It is generally known that Dr. Conrad Murray will not do any significant or even ANY jail time after his sentencing. It’s a fiscal decision by the State of California that non-violent felons are not currently being incarcerated. There’s no room and no money. That’s reality. The handcuffs are symbolic. Maybe he’ll do home confinement. What’s really imperative is that this physician never practices medicine again. He is licensed in Texas, California, Hawaii and Nevada. His licenses must be revoked!

It is a contradiction to present such a noir piece in Technicolor. Given that one of the plot details focuses on the colored lights projected on the falls each night, I guess it was a conscious decision to veer away from what would have had more impact in black and white.

Watching this film on Turner Classic Movies (second time) was so suspenseful that I found that by the conclusion, I could feel my heart beating rapidly. This was without a single car chase.

The plot, revealed in vague exposition, not flashbacks, is that a Korean vet with what was then called “battle fatigue” requiring some psychological hospitalization when he came back, is released and meets up with the spectacular Rose in a beer hall in Chicago. We don’t know why she married him, but the happy couple moved to the hinterlands and he followed his past career in ranching. She was bored by this pastoral life and starts to stray and meets the love of her life. The jealous, overprotective, unpredictable husband keeps tabs on her. He knows that she is almost hypnotized by a particular popular song. She often hums and sings it. This makes her husband furious, knowing that the song evokes a strong yearning for another man. He is correct. They wind up at Niagara Falls, ostensibly at her suggestion, and the tortured husband agrees to it in order to have a trip alone with the woman he can’t live without. It’s a trap; The irresistible wife has convinced her lover to do away with her husband at the popular honeymoon destination.

Shot on location at the Falls, the film takes on a reality that makes it totally compelling. I suppose they had to turn away actual tourists during the shoot, but I’m sure it really boosted business upon release of the movie. The ‘Maid of the Mist’ figured prominently in the tense drama.

“Niagara” is a fine glimpse into the styles and mores of the 50s. I loved every second of it.

There are fine performances by Marilyn Monroe, Joseph Cotten, Jean Peters, excellent cinematography and direction and a first-rate plot.

If you like trips through the seventies and eighties in the Baltimore area, this could be the book for you. On the other hand, if you dislike saintly protagonists, stay away. Although this novel is very readable, it took me a long time to finish. As a compulsive reader, I was surprised at my apathy. Maybe this was just too escapist, maybe it made me nervous that anyone could be so virtuous, maybe I couldn’t relate to the story line. It was gratifying for me to complete the reading this morning, not because I needed to know the ending but as a tribute to my own perseverance, since I never bought into the premise.

We fist meet Ian Bedloe as a young teen in the 1970s. He is ordinary and he is kind of dull, with a middle-class family doing ordinary things. It is never stated that this is a suburban community near Baltimore, but the trappings or the ‘burbs are evident. We see life through Ian’s eyes and it’s pretty dull. Enter Lucy.

Lucy is kind of a hot number, previously married and with two children, who announces to Ian’s family that she and Ian’s brother, Danny, are about to be married. Danny is Ian’s older brother, but Danny and Lucy seem pretty young. The whole family is apprehensive about this upcoming marriage, but the couple ties the knot. Ian can’t make up his mind about Lucy: she is certainly attractive and Ian struggles with his own feelings and asking himself difficult questions. When Lucy announces that she is pregnant and then gives birth to Daphne, Ian is certain that Lucy had been pregnant with another man’s child. Ian becomes more and more morose about this baby’s provenance. He is certain his brother has been deceived. It is unclear whether his own jealousy is involved, but Ian determines that he must tell his brother about his fears. Danny is so upset by the theory that he commits suicide. Shortly thereafter, Lucy, now burdened with three young children and with no means of support, opts for drugs and kills herself. Ian feels responsible and is dripping with guilt.

He happens upon the Church of the Second Chance and meets Reverend Emmett. This is a small, fundamentalist Church. The pastor is delighted to be of assistance to this poor, guilt-ridden boy. His counsel is that Ian must raise the three children. It is the only right thing to do. He urges Ian to join the church and Ian does so with his whole heart and soul. He never sees anything wrong with this ultra-fervent congregation and the author never puts any doubt in Ian’s mind. I found this a bit of a letdown as the story unfolded.

The majority of the book deals with the trials of raising three children and moving through their lives into adulthood.

It’s an improbable tale of just what constitutes the right thing to do. Clearly, most of us don’t have Ian’s qualities, nor do we want them.