Okay, Natalie Portman wants to be the Swan Queen in a big ballet production. You can tell this is a big deal ballet company, because they do all their ballet in an enormous building in the big city. And there are big ballet posters outside. This is serious ballet going on here, not some half-assed dance studio in between Bruster’s and the Tax Assessor’s office. I bet if you tried to eat Bruster’s ice cream inside that giant ballet fortress, someone would grand battement en cloche it right out of your dumb mouth, dummy.
Man, what was the attraction with that ballet director? That guy just spent a lot of time being a sourpuss and trying to sleep with Natalie Portman. I mean, you could probably get the same results if you put Oscar the Grouch in charge of your ballet company. Oh, Natalie Portman, you must become the Green Swan! I guess there would probably be more trash on stage than usual.
Lot of uptight people getting really worked up about ballet in this thing. Like “hallucinating having bird hands” uptight. Maybe that’s what happened to Big Bird. And then Natalie Portman gets stabby. If I ever start my own super serious ballet company, I’m going to make sure all the knives are the novelty kind that collapse into their handles.
And then, Mila Kunis seduces Natalie Portman into having sex with her while Natalie Portman’s mom yells at them from the other side of the bedroom door. That is so distracting! I’m sorry, but I just couldn’t perform under those kinds of conditions. Then again, having a ballet-obsessed middle-aged lady pound on the door while you get it on might be a turn-on for some people. Not me, though. I prefer my romance without overbearing stage mothers ranting and trying to get their hand in the door with their claw-like fingers AAHRGH YOUR CAREER! BALLET IS SO IMPORTANT!!
Oh wow, I almost forgot all about the red eyes that Natalie Portman gets when she turns into a bird dancer girl. Caw caw! I’m beautiful! And sexy, maybe? Do you think big black birds are sexy? Then you are probably a bird yourself. Or Edgar Allan Poe. Well, now that I’ve insulted one of our nation’s most cherished authors, I should probably wrap this review up. Caw caw, goodnight!