02/10/2001

By Chris Vognar / The Dallas Morning News

You could just say no. Or you could just watch Requiem for a Dream, a stylized nightmare of a movie that makes drug use look about as fun as root canal. Without anesthetic.

	Artisan Entertainment
	Ellen Burstyn plays Sara in Requiem for a Dream .

Based on a novel by prince of darkness Hubert Selby Jr. (Last Exit to Brooklyn), Requiem is already dividing viewers much like another recent indie release, Dancer in the Dark. It's brilliant, it's chilling, it's tragic. It's strident, it's bleak-chic, it's self-indulgent. Or maybe it's all of the above.

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One thing's for certain: It's not for everyone. Darren Aronofsky, something of an indie sensation after his film debut Pi, clearly relishes his role as provocateur. Originally facing the NC-17 stigma for graphic sex, drugs and other threats to American youth, Requiem ended up forgoing a rating altogether. Despite the film's high per-screen average in limited release, it's hard to imagine the masses warming up to this pitch of darkness.

But for the strong of stomach and open of mind, Requiem delivers some bravura filmmaking flourishes. Mr. Aronofsky has taken the grammar of Pi - fast cuts, pulsating techno beats, jarring close-ups, extreme camera angles - and pumped it up past 10. He shows brazen assurance in his aesthetic choices, and sets his dark visions to an escalating, sometimes excruciating rhythm. Smart money says he makes an unequivocally great film once his storytelling skills catch up with his technical chops.

Depending on your view, Requiem for a Dream lies somewhere between strident anti-drug polemic and brutal study of addiction's sharp claws. In any case, it features some of the nastiest (and strikingly filmed) scenes of drug abuse and withdrawal ever captured on film.

The principal narcotic of choice is king heroin, injected whenever possible by Harry (Jared Leto), his loving girlfriend (Jennifer Connelly) and his best buddy Tyrone (an effective dramatic turn by Marlon Wayans). Many of the film's countless edits are used to capture the act of shooting up, detailed in rapidly cut close-ups: The junk is cut, then cooked; the veins fill up, the pupils dilate. Each action is accompanied by an appropriately crisp, split-second sound; Requiem for a Dream is one of the most vivid sensory film experiences of recent memory.

Meanwhile, as the three youngsters shoot their lives away, Harry's mom steals the show. Ellen Burstyn gives a devastatingly naked performance as Sara Goldfarb, a wistful Coney Island couch potato swept into the void of a spooky motivational TV show (hosted by a rabid Christopher McDonald).

Eager to lose weight after receiving a scam telephone offer to appear on her favorite program, she's soon popping diet pills by the bunch and spiraling down her own drain of substance abuse. Requiem for a Dream reaches its hallucinatory peak in Sara's apartment, one of many dark, dilapidated interiors captured by director of photography Matthew Libatique. We won't give away all the details, but suffice it to say that this may be the first film to list a credit for "refrigerator puppeteer." On the human front, if anyone actually sees the film, look for Ms. Burstyn's name come Oscar nomination time.

Requiem may strive to creep inside the nature of addiction, the void and desire that create the insatiable need for drugs, food, sex or whatever your vice may be. But, except for Sara's frightening, pill-induced descent into TV land, Mr. Aronofsky has trouble maintaining a thematic focus. In too many places, Requiem suffers from James Brown syndrome: talking loud and saying nothing.

Still, Requiem For a Dream rides its intoxicating aesthetics an impressively long distance. It's clear that Mr. Aronofsky has a dazzling talent for putting together images. He just needs a bit more work on the bigger picture.