Requiem for a Dream

TIFF [2000]

(USA 2000) 102 minutes
Cast: Jared Leto, Ellen Burstyn, Jennifer Connelly, Marlon Wayans, Christopher McDonald
Written by Darren Aronofsky and Hubert Selby Jr., based upon the novel by Hubert Selby Jr.
Directed by Darren Aronofsky

THE STORY:

Four Staten Island nobodies dream of better lives. Widow Sara Goldfarb, addicted to junk food and a motivational infomercial, ignores her son Harry's careless lifestyle of drugs and scams until one day a telemarketer promises her the chance of a television appearance. The call comes as an awakening, turning Sara to diet pills so that she can drop 30 pounds to fit into a decades old dress. Harry and his girlfriend Marion--both casual drug users--aspire to establish a clothing design firm and along with their friend Tyrone, figure that a short adventure through drug trafficking will give them the windfall they need to get started. Within weeks, Sara becomes emaciated and paranoid as she waits for a response to her application. Harry, Marion, and Thomas become the most copious consumers of their own merchandise. Each individual's need for a constant fix reigns supreme over their dignity as they scatter and sink deeper into denial, delusion, and physical anguish.

ROBERT L'S REVIEW

"Requiem" could be screened in public schools in place of "The Cross And The Switchblade" and inspire many children never to take so much as a second Flinstone's chewable vitamin ever again.

As a lifelong "extreme" filmmaking aficionado, I've willfully revisited "A Clockwork Orange", and "Last House On The Left" as often as my grandmother has seen "The Bells Of St. Mary's". After years of thinking I'd seen it all, I can honestly report that Darren (the indie hit "Pi") Aronofsky's adaptation of Hubert Selby Jr.'s 1978 novel ranks as one of the most nightmarish and excruciating films I've ever endured. In fact, "Requiem" defies the term of mere "film adaptation", and instead, should be reclassified as a full throttle audio-visual assault.

An unrelenting bleak, downward spiral through the horrors of drug addiction, "Requiem" is so much more than simply "Reefer Madness"--or worse, "The Boost"--jazzed up with a music video veneer. I'm sure, though, that many will rally for the film's censorship, if not outright destruction (Artisan is bravely releasing the film with the kiss of death NC-17 rating), and they'll be missing the point. "Requiem" could be screened in public schools in place of "The Cross And The Switchblade" and inspire many children never to take so much as a second Flinstone's chewable vitamin ever again.

A ground-breaking collision of brutally unsentimental writing, go-for-broke acting, unique digital FX, and sophisticated montage, "Requiem" employs more than 2,500 cuts where a typical film would utilize somewhere around 400-500. Repetitive, flash-frame montages capture the addict's need for routine. Split screens within locations evoke the distance between characters, even in their most intimate moments, as they sink deeper into their need for stimulation beyond each other. Sara's drab Brighton Beach apartment becomes a living house of horrors, complete with cathode ray figures stepping out of the television set, and an utterly terrifying bellowing, lurching refrigerator beckoning her to feed. Time speeds up and slows down, often within the same shot, "Mean Streets"-styled camera mounts fuse the viewer face first into the hollowed eyes of addiction.

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Of course, nothing prepared me for the film's conclusion, as Aronofksy switches tracks from master filmmaker to master sadist and cross-cuts between four harrowing fates and cranks up the misery when even the most fearless of filmmakers would eventually turn away. Prison hell, electroshock therapy, sexual humiliation...even vivisection figure into one of the most damned-near-unbearable climaxes ever conceived. I found myself cursing Aranofsky for not showing these people mercy even as I marveled at the honesty of the writing and invention of the direction.

Most of the buzz about "Requiem" has been justly reserved for Ellen Burstyn, whose performance triumphs regardless of astonishing makeup FX and editing tricks (although, it should be mentioned, that sweet-faced leads Leto, Connelly, and Wayans are all excellent as well). Sara Goldfarb could be any lonely widow innocently craving a little attention in a world that seems to have forgotten her. Her slip into chemical enslavement (thanks to a quack doctor) and bodily erosion should resonate to anyone who's wanted to drop a few pounds, lick a cold, get a good night's sleep, or escape the pain of life for just a few hours through pharmaceuticals.

When the lights came up, I tried to come up with a metaphor for the flood of mixed emotions and exhilaration of discovery buzzing through my nerve endings. The best I could come up with was that I felt like I'd been hit by bus, dragged for several blocks, and survived. I read later that Aronofsky himself regards his film as " a rollercoaster ride into a wall". I stand corrected.

- Robert L

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