Hello everyone,
I had such fun composing this film review--it will be published in the Div. 56 (Trauma Psychology) of APA newsletter in the spring.
Hope you enjoy, and hope you enjoy these films!
Cheers,
Ilene
The Oscars 2011--King’s Speech, Black Swan:
Trauma, Body Image and Eating Disorders
The first Sunday’s edition of The New York Times of this new year profiled the Oscar choices for 2011, and I was fascinated to see that my two of my favorite reviewers, A. O. Scott and Manohla Dargis chose one of my favorite films “Black Swan” for best picture, best director (Darren Aronofsky) and best actress (Natalie Portman, p. 13). Another favorite film, “The King’s Speech”, was chosen by reviewer Stephen Holden for best picture, best actor (Colin Firth), best supporting actor (Geoffrey Rush), and best original screenplay (David Seidler). Both of these films were powerful and psychologically rich, and I will try to capture some of the power and complexity in the following comments.
Having worked with war trauma in Israel and the US (Serlin, 2010), I appreciated the nuanced portrayal of psychotherapy by Geoffrey Rush in The King’s Speech that displayed authenticity and genuine relationship, awareness of posttraumatic stress in early childhood trauma, use of innovative verbal and nonverbal therapeutic methods, and an existential framework of posttraumatic growth that encouraged his client to find his own voice.
The scene is set just before the advent of World War II, as England faces emergencies economic and psychological depression and the rising power of Hitler. Prince Albert’s father, George V, is about to die and succession to the throne is critical. King George’s eldest son, David, the future Edward VIII, is a reluctant and weak ruler who scandalizes the country with his bridal choice of a twice-divorced American woman, Wallance Simpson. When David steps down from the throne, Prince Albert must lead the country (Holden, p. 13).
Prince Albert, however, lacks confidence and has a terrible speech impediment. Driven by the advent of modern technology and the need to lead his people by public speaking, he seeks help for his stuttering from an unknown speech therapist, Lionel, played by Geoffrey Rush.
In one of their first sessions, Prince Albert confronts the reality of Lionel’s seedy office and tries to flee therapy, while Lionel confronts class differences as part of the initial therapeutic challenge. Lionel, having learned his techniques by working with World War I veterans, nevertheless insists on a stable therapeutic frame, sets rules of engagement, and helps the prince admit his pain and loneliness to motivate the difficult journey ahead. Understanding Prince Albert’s (“Bertie”) nonverbal language of stuttering and body twitches, Lionel has him practice relaxation exercises sing, roll on the floor, shout obscenities and feel his emotions, probe painful childhood repressed memories and finally feel a growing friendship between two equal human beings. Using seriousness, rhythm, play and improvisation in the “transitional space” between them, Lionel bridges Bertie’s negative self-talk with positive glimpses and new narrative of his future as a respected and self-determining king.
In “Black Swan”, I was most compelled by the portrait of eating disorder, body image distortions, and archetypal co-mingling of the polaries of reality/illusion, light/dark, perfection/imperfection, and domineering stage/mothers/frightened little girls that I see too often in dancers and young girls with eating disorders (Serlin, 2005). As a horrifying and beautiful film, it relies on painterly images to convey the mix of beauty and pain, white (White Swan, purity) black (Black Swan, darkness), and red (blood). For example, Natalie Portman (“Nina”) appears in most of the scenes, reflected in multiple mirrors and other faces. The confusion between fantasy and reality begins with her frightening mother, who as a frustrated former dancer seems to long for her daughter’s destruction. Nina’s love object is the archetypal Demon Lover; charming, dangerous, and elusive director who pushes her from Apollonian control and precision to passion and dark Dionysian frenzy (Holden, p. 14). It is the young girl’s poor body, ethereally thin and scarred with cutting, that is the canvas on which the awful story is shown and finds its denouement.
Both films, different is many ways, share a deep understanding of the psyche and, at least in one, an appreciation of the possibility of hope through the psychotherapeutic relationship.
References
Holden, S. (2011, January 2). The Prince and the uncommon commoner. The New York
Times, 16-17.
Scott, A.O. (2011, January 2). Fractured soul. The New York Times, 1, 14.
Serlin, I.A. (2005, May 18). Shall we dance? PsycCRITIQUES-Contemporary
Psychology: APA Review of Books, Vol. 50, No. 20.
Serlin, I. A. (2010, September/October), Working with trauma in Israel. The California
Psychologist, 12-15.
