{"id":524,"date":"2026-07-16T23:09:59","date_gmt":"2026-07-16T23:09:59","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/cityflowjournal.com\/?p=524"},"modified":"2026-07-16T23:09:59","modified_gmt":"2026-07-16T23:09:59","slug":"a-novelists-dark-portrait-of-natalie-portman","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/cityflowjournal.com\/?p=524","title":{"rendered":"A novelist\u2019s dark portrait of Natalie Portman"},"content":{"rendered":"
\n

The actor Natalie Portman has long seemed more like a person who wants to brand herself as smart than like a person who is actually smart \u2014 and her decision to let her friend Rachel Cusk write a book about her seems to confirm this. Portman has read many Rachel Cusk books. She picked <\/span>Parade<\/span><\/i>, published in 2024, as the June selection for her Instagram book club. In 2022, she hosted <\/span>a discussion<\/span> with the writer upon publication of Cusk\u2019s 11th novel, <\/span>Second Place, <\/span><\/i>and picked it for the book club as well. Yet no one in her right mind who <\/span>understood<\/span><\/i> Rachel Cusk\u2019s work would allow her to write about her \u2014 at least, no one with a sense of self-preservation and a public image to protect.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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Cusk is brilliant, but her skill has always been at reducing the human to the mathematical product of cold existential forces: the violent struggle between men and women; the primal wounds left by abuse; the emptiness at the heart of identity. In other words, obviously, a Cusk book about you is never going to be flattering.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Is this what happened? Chatter in New York literary circles says that Cusk\u2019s upcoming novel, <\/span>Life of M<\/span><\/i>, is based on Cusk\u2019s relationship with Portman. The novel, which will be published next month, is about a famous actress, M, and a nameless writer-friend\u2019s project to chronicle her. M\u2019s key biographical information is very similar to Portman\u2019s. The actress\u2019s dissatisfaction and betrayal at the finished product, as recorded in the final pages of the book, is also said to be true to life. If so, it\u2019s ironic in the extreme, since the impossibility of identity itself \u2014 and thus of anything being, truly, \u201ctrue to life\u201d \u2014 is the book\u2019s central theme, a fact that says more about Cusk than it ever could about Portman.<\/span><\/p>\n

The author-character points this out to the angry actress, but to no avail.<\/span><\/p>\n

Life of M<\/span><\/i> begins: \u201cA little while ago, I told the actor M that I was thinking of writing her autobiography. She liked the idea. She\u2019s a good sport.\u201d The writer-narrator goes on to explain that she met M in a bookstore (\u201cM is interested in books\u201d) and that \u201cin addition to being a film star, she was the model for a major brand, and her image looked out everywhere, from shop windows and hoardings and the rain-streaked perspex of bus shelters.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Portman, famously, pulled back from acting in order to attend Harvard from 1999 to 2003, following her casting in the <\/span>Star Wars<\/span><\/i> franchise. She runs a book club, and often posts book-selfies on Instagram \u2014 with a<\/span> coy eye peeking around the cover<\/span> of whatever she\u2019s currently reading \u2014\u00a0 so she is clearly \u201cinterested in books.\u201d She is a global brand ambassador for Christian Dior, the face of the Miss Dior perfume since 2011; in an atomized media landscape, she is one of the few actresses whose faces still really are everywhere. The two characters live in an unnamed European capital with a central river, which could be Paris, where both Cusk and Portman reside, though the details are rendered in Cusk\u2019s usual palette of flattening-neoliberal-global-dystopia: well-groomed men and women run along the river \u201clike gods in the sun,\u201d others \u201clived in tents beneath the stone bridges and brushed their teeth in the water fountains.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Such material could be true of many stars, and the comparison is more pointed than this. The narrator tells us, also in the opening sequence, directly after an allusion to a book about a woman who was sexually abused as a child, that M became famous as a child, and that \u201cthe script of her first film originally included several scenes in which the child was shown wanting or inviting sexual interaction with the central male character.\u201d The scenes were cut after M\u2019s mother objected, Cusk writes.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Portman, famously, was catapulted to stardom by her turn in the 1994 Luc Besson film, <\/span>L\u00e9on: The Professional<\/span><\/i>, filmed when she was 11 and 12 years old. In that movie, before we see her face, the camera dwells lovingly on her skinny and formless child\u2019s legs and thighs \u2014 a detail perhaps more shocking in 2026 than in 1994, but uncomfortable even in that era. <\/span>The Professional<\/span><\/i>\u2019s plot is about Portman\u2019s character\u2019s Lolita-like (though unconsummated) relationship with an adult hitman, L\u00e9on, played by Besson stalwart Jean Reno. It\u2019s a matter of public record that Portman\u2019s mother demanded that more explicitly sexual material be cut from the script. Nonetheless, Portman\u2019s beautiful baby-face and gangly body are lavishly sexualized by the camera, and Portman has called her adult relationship to the film \u201c<\/span>complicated<\/span>.\u201d She has also revealed that she was harassed and slut-shamed as a child after its success, which was traumatizing for her, an experience shared by M.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

There is more. M claims in the novel\u2019s final pages that the author-character has made her \u201cidentifiable,\u201d yet \u201cfilled the book with things she herself didn\u2019t recognize.\u201d M says the book is full of factual errors, so many she gave up keeping track of them. She hasn\u2019t been to the places the author describes or done the things the author says she has. \u201cIt isn\u2019t you,\u201d our narrator-author replies. \u201cIt isn\u2019t anyone.\u201d The portrait in the book is what anyone could have written, based on M\u2019s publicly available work and biography.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The statement, of course, is that of a fictional character, and unless Portman does come forth to correct the record, the truth will never be known \u2014 nor can it really matter, except to Portman. Cusk is a slippery and layered writer, and has long trafficked in the roles and archetypes that plague even ordinary mortals. The exploration of a character who is explicitly playing herself, or is trying to, but has no real self underneath, as she characterizes M\u2019s existence, would naturally be attractive to her. In her cosmology, it is a universal condition of the haute-bourgeoise. And a character whose \u201cself\u201d is an object or commodity also has rich Cuskian appeal. She has always seen us as vessels; M\u2019s container is merely more valuable than most.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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The resulting book is a feat, simpler and more direct than 2024\u2019s <\/span>Parade<\/span><\/i>, with its multiple plot lines and experimental structure, but also more crystalline and just as complex beneath the surface. Cusk is also at her best with aphorism and insight here, always a strength of her work. For readers who have yet to fall in love with Cusk, this might be the book to start with.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Of course, it doesn\u2019t hurt that the book also brims with juicy revelations about M\u2019s psychology. It feels like we\u2019re catching a glimpse of Portman. \u201cM had told me that starring in a film as a child had immediately brought her childhood to an end,\u201d the author-narrator recounts. This event, with its swirling undercurrents of sexual abuse, is a primal violence of a kind that the author also believes she has suffered, a violence that detaches both women from reality and their own identities. The writer is secure in her craft, but it becomes the actress\u2019s healing quest \u201cnot to create, but to try to make her life seem more normal.\u201d M occasionally picks up her own children from school; she goes to parties and talks to non-famous people; she reads the news with touching sincerity, as if it will teach her how to be human.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

M wants to be real, but for her \u201cthere was nowhere to go back to. There was no dream country where the original self might one day be found.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

To anyone other than Cusk, it might seem cruel to dash M\u2019s dreams of normality and selfhood. But a darker, more fascinating portrait of celebrity emerges, in which M is both bewildered perpetrator and victim. Yes, she lives in a cold, palatial house that is \u201clike a big doll\u2019s house, with her as a doll inside of it.\u201d She attends meetings in gloriously expensive, ruthlessly designed rooms, takes vacations in equally luxurious faux-farmhouses, and goes to a spa that is \u201ca stern and celestial oasis in the sky.\u201d Everywhere doors are magically opened for her, conveniences are arranged, and she is served by people with \u201cspecialized roles,\u201d there \u201cto do M\u2019s bidding.\u201d Cusk\u2019s penchant for satire of this nature \u2014 especially the embedded satire of the movie star with pretensions to reading \u2014 could not possibly have pleased the real-life Portman, if the behind-the-scenes speculation is true.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

And M <\/span>wants <\/span><\/i>to live this way. She is secretly irritated when ugliness and inconvenience intrude on her environments: the farmhouse\u2019s sick caretaker coughing, for example. When a visiting relative is hit by a car, and M has to supervise the recovery, it isn\u2019t an opportunity for compassion and connection, but \u201can episode of primal confusion.\u201d She finds listening to friends talk about themselves in caf\u00e9s a little challenging, and so on. Still, we feel sorry for her, as the true extent of her alienation sinks in. The bodies of the homeless that litter the story begin to seem a metaphor for M herself.\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

It is one of Cusk\u2019s regular narrative innovations to include in her works sections told in a choral \u201cwe\u201d voice. Here, the \u201cwe\u201d may be intended to represent the narrator and other writers like her, but it also may be intended to speak for herself and M, the pair of friends. In one of these sections, she speculates that \u201cwe\u201d have lost the capacity to love \u2014 something about \u201cour\u201d separation from reality, or \u201cour\u201d awareness of the underlying truth that such separation is the basic human condition \u2014 prevents it. In this matrix, love is attached to the (naive, illusory) experience of the real. \u201cWe\u201d are left with hatred. In a beautiful, terrifying passage, she writes about \u201cour\u201d longest love relationship, which ended in a \u201cmeticulous and detailed\u201d hatred that appeared \u201cto form a total condemnation of our character\u2026. The hate felt like the stone or the pit that was left when all the fruit of love had been eaten.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Cusk tends to land in such places: hatred, somehow, instead of love. The cold intellectualism with which she approaches the human seems to naturally produce this result. As an artist, she has never spared herself the bitter fruit of her own creation \u2014 including in several memoirs. M surely should not have expected anything else from the narrator. And if the result of the two women\u2019s friendship is a very strong Cusk book indeed, everyone should be happy \u2014 including, if her art-appreciation is real, Natalie Portman.<\/span><\/p>\n

Read more Why true crime isn\u2019t real<\/a><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The actor Natalie Portman has long seemed more like a person who wants to brand herself as smart than like a person who is actually smart \u2014 and her decision to let her friend Rachel Cusk write a book about her seems to confirm this. Portman has read many Rachel Cusk books. 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