| Requiem for a Dream is a Nightmare | |
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MPAA
Rating: Unrated.
Distributor: Artisan Entertainment
Cast: Ellen Burstyn (Sara Goldfarb), Jared Leto (Harry Goldfarb), Jennifer Connelly
(Marion Silver), Marlon Wayans (Tyrone C. Love), Keith David (Little John),
Louise Lasser (Ada), Sean Gullette (Arnold the Shrink), Christopher McDonald
(Tappy Tibbons), Ben Shenkman
By Beck Finley
Anyone who has seen Pi will think that Requiem for a Dream seems familiar. Both movies, directed by Darren Aronofsky, have the same jittery camera movement, scene repetition, and humorless, earnest characters plagued by pain and obsession. Perhaps Aronofsky is trying to forge a signature style. Or maybe that's just how he directs. Nonetheless, Requiem lacks the grittiness and the interesting math that made Pi so successful.
There are lots of movies about junkies that are way better than this one. I recommend Trainspotting, Drugstore Cowboy, Gridlock'd, and the recent Jesus' Son with the luscious Samantha Morton over this one any day of the week. What these movies have in abundance, intelligent, funny characters with the capability of self-reflection, Requiem is sorely missing. To this I have some words of advice for Mr. Aronofsky: Lighten up, man. I mean, you expect a math genius to be serious and uptight, but not junkies. Not all the time, anyway.
Addiction and denial are the staples of the screenplay, adapted from the Hubert Selby, Jr. (Last Exit to Brooklyn) novel by Selby, Jr. and Aronofsky. There are two story lines. The heroin junkies, Harry Goldfarb (Jared Leto) and Tyrone C. Love (Marlon Wayons) who do anything not to have to keep scoring, including dealing and stealing and pawning Harry's mother's tired, old television. Harry and Tyrone even plan a business with Harry's waifish girlfriend (Jennifer Connelly) who is part-time fashion designer and full-time junkie. However, not at any time do any of them consider getting clean. They'd rather get busted on a wild goose chase down to Miami or involve themselves in an exploitive orgy involving an obscenely large dildo. These characters are idiots, and not just because they use drugs.
The other story line depicts the downward spiral of Harry's mother, Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn), as she becomes increasingly addicted to diet pills. Sara's addiction is obtusely foreshadowed by her dependence on TV and chocolates to assuage her loneliness. (Flashback to Lee Remick's pre-alcoholic addiction to chocolate in the early part of Days of Wine and Roses.) However, once an invitation to appear on her favorite infomercial shows up in the mail, Sara can't resist picturing herself slim'n'trim in her favorite fancy red dress. Her own will power fails her in her attempts at dieting. Her refrigerator seems to mock her from the kitchen. So, an unsuspecting Sara goes off to a doctor recommended by a friend and neighbor. The prescription: speed. Here Burstyn is at her best, portraying the mania and depression accompanying her addiction. Sara loses the weight, but she also loses her mind.
The movie works best when both stories are at play at once. The split-screen scene with Harry trying to persuade his mother to give him the key to the lock holding down her TV is nothing more than brilliant and intriguing. The comparison between shooting heroin and popping prescribed pills is interesting. And then there's the score. Clint Mansell with the Kronos Quartet has made beautiful music.
Where the movie falls short, however, is in the lack of sympathy it evokes for its characters. Frankly, the amputation, the imprisonment, the orgy, the force feedings, and the electroshock therapy are far more memorable than the characters themselves. None of the characters have epiphanies or revelations, or even give a clue that any thought beyond the next high has crossed their minds. This might be true of real-life junkies, I don't know. But it's not what I want for my movie-going experience. There isn't a thinker in the bunch, much less a dreamer. So I guess I've gotten the point. Addiction is bad. Drugs are bad. Just say no.
Beck Finley is a freelance writer and critic. She lives on the Missouri side of Kansas City with her husband, Ryan Kegley, and dog, Tummy.
