Edition: U.S. / Global

FILM REVIEW; Addicted to Drugs and Drug Rituals

Published: October 6, 2000
(Page 2 of 2)

Instead of falling back on the cliche of junkies' vegetative states, Mr. Aronofsky races through their buzzes because he wants to show how quickly the time passes when they're high. And it explains why their lives are so empty when they're not consuming, which drug movies haven't made so clear before. By rushing the addicts' temporary nirvana, ''Requiem'' puts a premium on the valuable drug time.

''Requiem'' also wants to make the bigger point that addicts are as hooked on the rituals of getting high as they are on the manufactured endorphin rush itself. Mr. Aronofsky has his brilliant cinematographer, Matthew Libatique, shoot these sequences so painstakingly that there is a danger some people will think the film glamorizes the awful habits. It doesn't, and the plunge into the nightmare of continued degradation is rendered as vividly as the ingesting of heroin, cocaine and coffee. And the picture itself looks diseased from the inside, externalizing the sickness of the characters. Often, there is a slightly greenish and bleached tinge that suggests spiritual gangrene.

The 1970's brought a streak of loser druggie movies, like ''Born to Win,'' ''Panic in Needle Park'' and the festering pallor of ''The Night of the Following Day,'' which could be the spiritual ancestor of ''Requiem.'' These movies floated through the grimy, nothing days of their casts, who tried to hold up their nodding heads long enough to get through a normal day. ''Requiem'' goes a step further; it couldn't be less like a draggy heroin movie. Its full-on assault blazes through the central nervous system faster than any over-the-counter cold medicine, and the relief is instantaneous.

''Requiem'' is like a Chuck Jones video starring Cool Herk, in which the scratch rhythms on the soundtrack are mirrored by editing so nimble and fast it's like old-school turntable scratching. Refrigerators sprout ravenous jaws, and the view through a filthy window onto a rainy, dark street suddenly becomes sun-kissed and luminous. The people in ''Requiem for a Dream'' can't see anything in front of them, and can't really trust their senses until it's far too late.

Mr. Aronosfky and Mr. Selby keep snatches of old dialogue -- some of which comes right out of the book -- with its old-fashioned references to ''dope fiends,'' so we can't exactly trust our senses, either. It's never clear when the movie is set, but its Brighton Beach isn't pretty.

Mr. Aronofsky's style could probably best be described as cyberpulp, a tangle of images with comic panel acuity that he is downloading from his subconscious. To paraphrase a line from a Celine Dion song that might be from the time when this movie was set, the director pushed his accelerator all the way to the Equator.


Directed by Darren Aronofsky; written by Hubert Selby Jr. and Mr. Aronofsky, based on the novel by Mr. Selby; director of photography, Matthew Libatique; edited by Jay Rabinowitz; music by Clint Mansell, with string quartets performed by the Kronos Quartet; production designer, James Chinlund; produced by Eric Watson and Palmer West; released by Artisan Entertainment. At U.A. Union Square 14, 13th Street at Broadway. Running time: 102 minutes. This film is not rated.

WITH: Ellen Burstyn (Sara Goldfarb), Jared Leto (Harry Goldfarb), Jennifer Connelly (Marion Silver), Marlon Wayans (Tyrone C. Love), Christopher McDonald (Tappy Tibbons), Louise Lasser (Ada) and Sean Gullette (Arnold the Shrink).

Photo: Jared Leto, starring in ''Requiem.'' (John Baer/Artisan Entertainment)