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A couple of years ago, I went to Tokyo with my husband, and I ate at the most remarkable sushi restaurant. I don’t even eat fish. I’m vegan. So that tells you how good it was. Even with just vegetables, this sushi was the stuff you dreamed about. The restaurant has six seats. My husband and I marveled at how anyone can make rice so superior to all other rice. We wondered why they didn’t make a bigger restaurant and be the most popular place in town. Our local friend explained to us that all the best restaurants in Tokyo are that small and do only one type of dish: sushi or tempura, or teriyaki, because they want to do that thing well and beautifully. And it’s not about quantity. It’s about taking pleasure in the perfection and beauty of the particular. I’m still learning now that it’s about good and maybe never done. That the joy and work ethic, and virtuosity we bring to the particular can impart a singular type of enjoyment to those we give to and of course to ourselves. In my professional life, it also took me time to find my own reasons for doing my work. The first film I was in came out in 1994. Again, appallingly, the year most of you were born. I was 13 years old upon the film’s release, and I can still quote what the New York Times said about me verbatim. “Ms. Portman poses better than she acts.” The film had a universally tepid critic response and went on to bomb commercially. That film was called The Professional, or Leon in Europe. And today, 20 years and 35 films later, it is still the film people approach me about the most to tell me how much they loved it, how much it moved them, how it’s their favorite movie. I feel lucky that my first experience releasing a film was initially such a disaster by all standards measures. I learned early that my meaning had to be from the experience of making a film and the possibility of connecting with individuals rather than the foremost trophies in my industry, financial and critical success. And also, that those initial reactions could be false predictors of your work’s ultimate legacy.

Let's follow Natalie Portman...

A couple of years ago, / I went to Tokyo with my husband, / and I ate at the most remarkable sushi restaurant. // I don’t even eat fish. // I’m vegan. // So that tells you how good it was. // Even with just vegetables, / this sushi was the stuff / you dreamed about. // The restaurant / has six seats. // My husband and I marveled / at how anyone can make rice so superior to all other rice. // We wondered why they didn’t make a bigger restaurant / and be the most popular place in town. // Our local friend explained to us / that all the best restaurants in Tokyo are that small / and do only one type of dish: / sushi / or tempura, / or teriyaki, / because they want to do that thing well / and beautifully. // And it’s not about quantity. // It’s about taking pleasure / in the perfection and beauty / of the particular. // I’m still learning now / that it’s about good / and maybe never done. // That the joy / and work ethic, and virtuosity we bring to the particular / can impart / a singular type of enjoyment to those we give to / and of course to ourselves. // In my professional life, / it also took me time / to find my own reasons for doing my work. // The first film I was in / came out in 1994. // Again, / appallingly, / the year most of you were born. // I was 13 years old upon the film’s release, / and I can still quote what the New York Times said about me / verbatim. / “Ms. Portman / poses / better than she acts.” // The film / had a universally tepid critic response and went on to bomb // commercially. // That film was called The Professional, / or Leon in Europe. // And today, / 20 years and 35 films later, / it is still the film people approach me about the most / to tell me how much they loved it, / how much it moved them, / how it’s their favorite movie. // I feel lucky that my first experience / releasing a film / was initially such a disaster / by all standards measures. // I learned early / that my meaning / had to be from the experience of making a film / and the possibility of connecting with individuals / rather than the foremost trophies in my industry, / financial and critical success. // And also, / that those initial reactions / could be false predictors of your work’s ultimate legacy. //

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I started choosing only jobs that I was passionate about and from which I knew I could glean meaningful experiences. This thoroughly confused everyone around me: agents, producers, and audiences alike. I made Goya’s Ghost, a foreign independent film, and studied our history visiting the Prado every day for 4 months as I read about Goya and the Spanish Inquisition. I made V for Vendetta, a studio action movie for which I learned everything I could about freedom fighters who otherwise may be called terrorists. From Menachem Begin to Weather Underground, I made Your Highness, a pothead comedy with Danny McBride and laughed for 3 months straight. I was able to own my meaning and not have it be determined by box office receipts or prestige. By the time I got to making Black Swan, the experience was entirely my own. I felt immune to the worst things anyone could say or write about me, and to whether an audience felt like going to see my movie or not. It was instructive for me to see that ballet dancers, for ballet dancers, once your technique gets to a certain level, the only thing that separates you from others is your quirks or even flaws. One ballerina was famous for how she turned slightly off-balanced. You can never be the best, technically. Someone will always have a higher jump or a more beautiful line. The only thing you can be the best at is developing your own self. Authoring your own experience was very much what Black Swan itself was about. I worked with Darren Aronofsky, the film’s director, to change my last line in the movie to "It was perfect." Because my character Nina is only artistically successful when she finds perfection and pleasure for herself, not when she is trying to be perfect in the eyes of others. So when Black Swan was successful financially and I began receiving accolades, I felt honored and grateful to have connected with people. But the true core of my meaning, I had already established. And I needed it to be independent of people’s reactions to me.

Let's follow Natalie Portman...

I started choosing only jobs that I was passionate about / and from which I knew I could glean meaningful experiences. // This thoroughly confused everyone around me: / agents, / producers, / and audiences alike. // I made Goya’s Ghost, / a foreign independent film, / and studied our history visiting the Prado every day for 4 months / as I read about Goya and the Spanish Inquisition. // I made V for Vendetta, / a studio action movie for which I learned everything I could about freedom fighters who otherwise / may be called terrorists. // From Menachem Begin to Weather Underground, / I made Your Highness, / a pothead comedy with Danny McBride / and laughed for 3 months straight. // I was able to own my meaning / and not have it be determined by box office receipts or prestige. // By the time I got to making Black Swan, / the experience was entirely my own. // I felt immune to the worst things anyone could say or write about me, / and to whether an audience felt like going to see my movie or not. // It was instructive for me to see that ballet dancers, / for ballet dancers, / once your technique gets to a certain level, / the only thing that separates you from others is your quirks / or even flaws. // One ballerina was famous for how she turned slightly off-balanced. // You can never / be the best, / technically. // Someone will always have a higher jump / or a more beautiful line. // The only thing you can be the best at is developing / your own self. // Authoring your own experience was very much what Black Swan itself was about. // I worked with Darren Aronofsky, the film’s director, to change my last line in the movie to / "It was perfect." // Because my character Nina is only / artistically successful when she finds perfection and pleasure for herself, / not when she is trying to be perfect in the eyes of others. // So when Black Swan was successful financially / and I began receiving accolades, / I felt honored and grateful to have connected with people. // But the true core of my meaning, / I had already established. / And I needed it to be independent of people’s reactions to me. //