Sometimes movies are about their plot, and sometimes they aren’t. That seems simple enough, right? Often, movies are about how they’re about what they’re about (Roger Ebert coined this phrase, not me). That’s just a fancy, concise way of saying that things like camera movements and placements, editing, and story structure are more important than just what happens. There are also things common to the art of writing like allegory and metaphor that allow for more interpretation than just what happens. What’s happening on-screen constitutes the plot, but that plot can stand for something else altogether. A recent example is Christopher Nolan’s The Dark Knight (2008). The plot concerns Batman and The Joker battling for Gotham City, but, allegorically, the film is about the U.S. involvement in the War on Terror. The best films (and books) are able to marry plot, idea, and technique seamlessly. Ideally, the viewer will be able to appreciate a work of art on the surface level as pure entertainment, but also be able to get something of value out of it with a deeper analysis of both larger significance and technique. I’m not sure Darren Aronofsky’s Requiem for a Dream (2000) can be enjoyed purely as entertainment (unless you’re a masochist), but it’s worth taking a look at to see how to combine film technique and allegory effectively. And no, I won’t be talking about the infamous ass-to-ass scene.
Adapted from Hubert Selby Jr.’s novel of the same name, Requiem for a Dream’s plot deals with the horrors of hardcore drug abuse. It’s a difficult film to watch at times, but that’s by design. Aronofsky’s decision to not shy away from just how far into despair these characters fall is why the film is effective as an anti-drug piece. However, a well done anti-drug movie isn’t exactly the most insightful or ambitious idea ever put on celluloid. Selby is after more than just showing that doing drugs isn’t the most intelligent life choice. His goal is to show the death of the American Dream. The American Dream, as defined in American culture, is the idea that through hard work, prosperity and success in life is attainable, regardless of things such as social class. After all, if “all men are created equal,” logic dictates that actions alone will determine who is successful and who isn’t, right? Selby (along with many, many other authors and artists) calls bullshit on this ideal. The novel (and film), published in 1978, posits that these characters fall into utter desolation and hopelessness from a life spent chasing this unattainable Dream. Lives are spent attempting to achieve an ideal and find happiness that might not ever come. The harder people chase and hold on to that false sense of purpose, the worse off they become. They turn to things like drugs as an escape from reality to cope with being unable to achieve what was promised to them. This allegory gives the title of the work added significance. On a story level, the requiem, which is a mass for the dead, is being played for these characters’ individual dreams, which have been crushed by their choices to live life in a drug addled state. On a broader societal level, the requiem is being played for those who have spent their lives chasing this unattainable ideal.
Now that we’re clear on the allegorical significance of the piece, we can finally get to watching the Money Shot from the film. The four minutes and five seconds you’re about to watch is the ending montage of the film. As we break it down, you’ll see how Aronofsky is able to wrap up the movie’s plot while also visually showing the death of the Dream.
Unfortunately, YouTube seems to have disallowed embedding of any and all videos of this particular film, so I can only provide the following link to the clip. It sucks, I know. Trust me, I wouldn't even post the link if I hadn't spent an entire day writing 2000 words on the clip. For future reference, I'll make sure the clips are embeddable before I begin:
http://youtu.be/uuzNohk5cYw
Beginning of clip – 0:30: This first thirty second sequence is taking place inside of Harry Goldfarb’s (Jared Leto) head. It’s a dream and purely metaphorical. The first shot is of Marion Silver (Jennifer Connelly) standing at the end of a pier in a red dress with her back to Harry (the shot is actually an homage to Alex Proyas’ 1998 sci-fi noir, Dark City, which also stars Connelly). It’s an idyllic shot, full of warmth and color. We alternate between shots of Harry running to the end of the pier and of Marion with her back to him. When he finally gets there, she’s gone. Symbolically, Harry’s been chasing an illusion. As Harry realizes this, we see a look of confusion and fear on his face as he begins to retreat. We see a shot of his shoes walking backwards until he’s hanging on the edge of the pier. He falls into what looks like a back alley as he calls for Marion. Again, this symbolizes Harry’s life. The pier might not be a cliff, but it might as well be. Once Harry realized he was chasing an illusion, he falls into the darkness of fear and confusion. It’s poignant that as he’s falling, he calls out for the same ideal, despite his revelation.
0:30 – 1:10: Now that we’re back to reality, it’s important to acknowledge the significance of the juxtaposition of reality and the last moment of Harry’s dream. Harry’s dream ends with him falling into darkness, and then reality has come crashing into Harry’s dream. This sequence is the visualization of reality setting in. The scene consists of a simple shot/reverse shot pattern. A nurse is telling Harry that everything is ok and that Marion will come for him, but Harry realizes that isn’t going to happen. In the dream Harry is chasing Marion in a warm, beautiful place. In reality, he’s lying in a hospital bed with no chance of her coming.
At the 56 second mark, two of the clip’s three main stylistic calling cards kick in. First, Clint Mansell’s brilliantly haunting score, titled Lux Aeterna (which has been used in many other movies, but was written for this one), begins. Second, the camera begins to pull away from Harry in an effort to distance the viewer from the character. This distance is essential, as it’s how the film is able to condemn its characters. Both of these devices will be used over the next few minutes as the montage checks in with each of the film’s four main characters. The devices link the characters together to show the audience that, while these people are in different places and have had different experiences, their plight is the same. As the camera pulls away from Harry, we see his amputated arm as he breaks down and curls into the fetal position (the third stylistic calling card).
1:10 – 2:12: With Harry’s story told, the film shows us brief snippets of each of the other three main characters. We see Marion entering her apartment in a stunningly symbolic shot that begins with her illuminated in the doorway of her completely dark abode. As the door shuts and she turns the light on, we see paper, which will later be revealed as Marion’s fashion sketches, strewn all over the floor and table. She’s gone from the light to the dark, and her dreams, in the form of those sketches, have been trashed. Next, we’re shown Tyrone as just another one of the drug addicted masses in prison. The shot of the inmates walking in a line to their beds makes us feel that there are a lot of Tyrones in the same predicament. Finally, the film gets around to showing us Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn), but not before we see the shocked and appalled reactions of her friends. To end this sequence, the camera again begins to pull away from the characters in the film, but from Sara’s two friends that visited her in the hospital instead of from Sara herself. In a pretty bold statement, the shot places the friends alongside Sara and the other drug-addicted characters, complicit and equally as foolish in their pursuits. It isn’t just the druggies who are at fault and misguided here - it’s a larger issue.
2:12 – 3:20: The film, again, recycles through Marion, Tyrone, and Sara. This time, as the music swells, each character is framed in the same way and curls into the fetal position as the camera pulls away. Marion is looking at a wad of cash, her ruined sketches still all over her apartment floor. Tyrone is on his prison bed, and we see him thinking about his mother. Sara is in a psych ward and dreams of the game show she hoped to appear on. Along with how the film left Harry in reality, each character’s reality is shown in ruin, the direct result of clinging to the dreams they have been chasing throughout the entire movie (Harry to Marion, Marion to money, Tyrone to his mother’s acceptance and love, and Sara to getting on that game show). The fact that these people are still clinging to those dreams, despite the current state of their lives, is the ultimate condemnation of them and their actions. They’ve so desperately wanted to escape and find happiness that they’ve reduced themselves to…this. All the while, they still cling to those dreams. They haven’t really learned anything at all. They’re just fucked up.
3:20 – end of clip: The clip ends with another dream sequence, this time Sara’s. She looks great – healthy and happy. Amidst the glowing stage lights and cheering audience, we’re told that Sarah has won the grand prize. Her prize? To quote Tappy Tibbons (Christopher McDonald): “Your prize has a sweet smile and his own private business. He just got engaged, and he's planning to get married this summer. Will you please give a juicy welcome to Mrs. Sara Goldfarb's one and only son -- Harry Goldfarb!” Her son as a success. The ideal. Harry comes on stage, and as the two embrace, they tell each other that they love one another. It’s a wonderful moment. It’s a great, loving embrace. However, as Sara’s final look of the film shows, it’s also bitterly sarcastic. In a great bit of facial acting, Burstyn conveys to the viewer that Sara realizes this isn’t reality. At the 3:50 mark she has a look of sheer panic on her face before she suppresses it and goes back to smiling. The audience cheers, and the film fades to black – how Aronofsky ends most of his movies (he’s very invested in how what takes place affects those watching, but that’s another idea for another essay).
The ending of the film is bleak, hopeless, and ultimately punishes the viewer. It says that these people know exactly what they’re doing to themselves; on some level, it’s a conscious choice. They’d rather live in a dream world than in reality. In a larger sense, it’s saying that this is what the American Dream does to people. There’s no sympathy for these people, just a cautionary tale that practically screams at the audience to not be like these people. We see the last act of what are mostly decent people doing unspeakable things in an effort to escape and find happiness. The finality of it all is soul crushing. The film also takes the comment one step further by condemning the “innocent” onlookers. Not only do they stand by and let it happen, but sometimes they’ll even cheer it on. Aronofsky uses his camera to place the same judgments Selby used his pen to place, and that’s why the film adaptation succeeds in keeping the spirit of the book.
As you can see, this isn’t a movie made for entertainment. This isn’t a film I love, but rather respect a great deal. I’m not sure I agree with everything it puts forth, but I can’t really argue that it isn’t incredibly well crafted. Hopefully I’ve done a good job of showing you how.
