Yowza. I’m used to Japanese body-mod cyberpunk, gory slasher and Giallo films, and other extreme cinema. But nothing could prepare me for this story of deteriorating drug addicts. Remembering Trainspotting’s vile depiction of wasted lives, I braced myself for painful images of junkies shooting nasty needles and gratuitously nauseating physical decay. Surprisingly, these were kept to a bare minimum, and only brought out in the midst of an already ultra-disturbing climax. Fans of Darren Aronofsky’s Pi already know the kinds of raw cinematic tools he employs to create moods and points of view. Likewise, Requiem gets us right into each character’s head, distorting the frame with a vast variety of methods. Each scene is such a carefully constructed combination of in-camera effects, distorted lenses and sound, filtered light and color, and exaggerated perspectives that we feel as crazy and trapped as the people on-screen. Much of the increasingly unsettling atmosphere is the result of expert, unconventional editing, and a shrill score by the avant garde Kronos Quartet. Brave filmmaking wouldn’t amount to much without a trusting and believable cast, and the actors do an incredible job. Though the four main players all battle different problems, their desperation and failure to change their destructive behaviors link them in a tight downward spiral. Ellen Burstyn is particularly amazing as a drab and lonely couch potato who deteriorates into a complete wretch. Her transformation is painful to watch. Not since Whatever Happened to Baby Jane? have I seen an older actress put vanity aside and devote herself so thoroughly to such a haggard role. If I haven’t suggested it yet, there’s no happy ending. I wanted an escape as badly as the characters by the end, and the film still burns strongly in my head. It’s anything but a pleasant ride, but Aronofsky knows how to take us exactly where the story needs to go. Requiem for a Dream is a close-up tour of Hell.

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