The response to Black Swan has been somewhat bewildering. Lavished with praise in many quarters, mocked and derided in others, what is clear is that many people are taking Darren Aronofsky’s film very seriously, which is strange considering that it’s a) a horror film and b) about ballet, which barely anybody goes to anymore.

Based on the latter point, you can see why the ballet dancers who The Guardian contacted for their verdict of the film in this article were so dismissive of the film – it doesn’t paint ballet in a favourable light, and often uses cliches to do so (for a start Vincent Cassel’s director Thomas spends much of the film wandering around with a jumper draped over his shoulders, which is movie shorthand to denote an ‘artistic’ type). On the other hand, talking about the dancing is not that useful a way of critiquing the film – the dextrous camera work of Aronofsky’s regular cinematographer Matthew Libatique dances around the action more often than the cast do, and it rarely stops to focus on their technique, which is probably a wise move considering Aronofsky is working with actors rather than dancers. Additionally, the uncertainty as to whether Natalie Portman’s dancing is meant to be genuinely great or not can be seen as a useful plot device, as it means that the audience can’t actually be sure if the attention paid to her by Thomas is necessary to assist her dancing, or is for more sinister reasons. A far more important consideration is looking at the films whose influence runs through the film.

Ordinarily a review would be expected to run through the plot of a film, but that’s arguably not so important here as there really isn’t much of it to speak of – Natalie Portman’s demure dancer Nina is promoted by director Thomas to dance the lead in Swan Lake (another ballet cliché that even he acknowledges) and, struggling to cope with the pressure put on her from all sides, including herself, Nina starts to crack. Instead it is a film all about mood, tone and performance, all of which recall interesting combinations of films from the past. As has been mentioned elsewhere The Red Shoes – still the ultimate ballet film – is an obvious touchstone, with Black Swan even following that film by abandoning the narrative drive in the final act in favour of focusing on an extended dance sequence instead (although they’re not entirely unexpected, any more events of the ending shall remain unspoiled), however, The Red Shoes isn’t the most prominent classic cinematic influence.

A large section of the action takes place in the upscale New York apartment shared by Nina and her mother, and recalls the female-led melodramas of the Hollywood golden age (Barbara Hershey’s pushy mother has a definite Joan Crawford air about her). Black Swan is something like what would happen if David Cronenberg was around at the time to make one of these films, as there’s also a healthy dose of body horror running through it – both the real (Nina’s bloody feet after a day of practicing) and the surreal (which employs some very well designed and pleasingly subtle – for the most part – special effects work).

The other side of the film, taking place in grimier locales such as subway cars, dressing rooms and a particularly unsavoury looking nightclub is more closely related to Aronofsky’s previous work. Although the director has been keen to play up the connection to his previous movie The Wrestler, in that it offers a backstage look at a very physical profession, actually it has as much, if not more, in common with his oddball debut, the mathematics thriller Pi. Both films are about the punishing nature of genius and are more concerned with tone than plot, both feature paranoid scenes set in New York’s subway, with even the same actor appearing to play a sinister onlooker.

While Black Swan may not be original (in fact the recurring motifs of mirrors and black and white clothing are generally the stuff of film school experiments), or particularly surprising, it is worthy of the attention that’s been lavished upon it. Amongst the scares and thrills, there is the sense that Nina’s story is a more universal one, as the physically damaged and frail quality that Portman brings to the role, and the difficult relationship she has with her colleagues, suggests that Black Swan is more about the image of women in movies, and by extension society, than it is about the ballet. Portman may be ably assisted by a talented director, and a strong supporting cast, but she carries much of the film on her own shoulders, and is a genuinely deserving contender this awards season.