Anxiety, despair and obsession drive the
films of writer-director Darren Aronofsky.
Considered by many to be Stanley Kubrick’s successor, the Jewish
American filmmaker is one of modern cinema’s most uncompromising visionaries,
his films ready to dive deep into the abyss of his protagonist’s psyche with
impeccable audiovisual techniques and raw emotions from his cast. Frequently working with the same
collaborators such as cinematographer Matthew Libatique and composer Clint
Mansell, Aronofsky’s dense body of work represents a polarizing and controversial
artist light years ahead of both his audience and fellow colleagues. Often divisive and even alienating, this is
an artist unafraid of challenging his viewers fears and desires with his
psychological profiling of the troubled heroes leading his films.
Utilizing a unique editing technique with
emphasis on repetition and crescendo, one walks away from an Aronofsky picture
either at an emotional height or far down below into a bottomless pit of
bleakness. With this, let us talk about
the films by Darren Aronofsky to better explain why he is my current favorite
filmmaker.
Pi (1998)
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| "I just can't get enough of Slinky!" |
Aronofsky’s first feature, shot on
reversal-stock black-and-white, tells the tale of Max Cohen (Sean Gullette), an
obsessive, socially withdrawn mathematician who is either on the brink of an
incredible scientific discovery or is suffering from psychosis. Told almost entirely from the point of view
of its unhinged narrator (Aronofsky’s one effort with voiceover narration), Pi (the mathematical constant) is a
character study of a victim of anxiety disorders, migraines, and
hallucinations. Max spends his entirety
analyzing numbers as life passes him by, hiding out in his apartment while
occasionally mingling with his former college professor Sol (Mark Margolis, an
eventual regular Aronofsky worked into every one of his films). Beyond Sol, Max is devoid of friends or
relatives and has no intention of changing that. Prey to Wall Street bigwigs looking to
exploit his intellect for financial gain as well as Hasidic Jews intent on
cracking the oldest code of the Torah, chaos gradually becomes the norm for Max
Cohen until neither he nor we know how to escape the madness.
With Pi, Aronofsky introduced
a unique narrative style of structuralism, comprised of repetitive edits,
extreme close-ups, low-light levels punctuated by blinding flashes of light,
and most notably, the SnorriCam, a camera that is physically attached to an actor’s
body to freeze them in the center of a shot while the background moves freely
behind them. Aronofsky’s visual motifs
of imagined dopplegangers and bizarre, grotesque hallucinations would find
themselves played out several times over in his forthcoming work, most notably Black Swan, which appears to have
utilized some of the same locations as Pi. Pi would also establish a lifelong
working relationship between cinematographer Matthew Libatique and composer
Clint Mansell, whose minimalist industrial score fuels the inner turmoil and
self-imposed battle within Max Cohen.
Aronofsky’s Jewish lineage is clearly all over the film, from the Hasids
practicing the Tefillin to mixture of math and religion. Pi isn’t
so much interested in providing answers as it is in creating an experience of a
paranoid schizophrenic. In a climate of
filmmakers catering to an audience’s needs, Aronofsky quickly set himself apart
from the pack by bringing us into the world of a character we’re not always
inclined to spend time with. While a
solid sophomore effort, Pi represents
a potentially great filmmaker in early gestation. It would only take two years for the young
maverick to churn out what would become his first true masterpiece, a film
which would shake the film world to its very foundations.
Requiem
for a Dream (2000)
Adapted from the novel by Hubert Selby,
Jr., Aronofsky’s first color film, Requiem
for a Dream, is nothing short of
a glimpse into the great Inferno.
Divided into three acts involving three drug addicted youths and an
elderly woman named Sara Goldfarb (Ellen Burstyn) who is the mother of the most
troubled addict, the film is an ensemble piece that dives deep into the nature
of addiction. While the three kids roam
the streets in search of their next fix or deal, the mother sits before her
television munching on chocolate, occasionally making small talk with her
neighbors before an offer arrives that could place the mother on a TV show. Excited to fit back into her lovely red dress
but too overweight to do so, she tries dieting and switching meals, which prove
to be too daunting a task for Sara. It
doesn’t take long before the allure of diet pills draws Sara in and she too
joins the youths in their mathematical downward spiral into self-destructive
addiction.
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| "I am so hot in this movie, I could just cry." |
Most viewers will immediately
read Requiem as a drug movie, but
Aronofsky’s real aim is to take ordinary addictions such as television, coffee,
tanning, and unhealthy meals to suggest anything can be a drug. The line between obsession over contraband
and common household items no longer exists in Requiem, and as with any addiction, the consequences inevitably
will catch up to both the characters and the viewer. While the argument can be made the three kids
get their just desserts, Ellen Burstyn’s staggering performance as Sara
Goldfarb is absolutely heartbreaking to watch.
That she lost her Academy Award nomination to Julia Roberts for Erin Brockovich is stupefying!
To suggest Requiem is a horror movie wouldn’t do the terror and shock the film
unleashes with a vengeance justice.
Originally rated NC-17, Requiem pulls
no punches in its unblinking gaze into defeat and despair. Opening on a note of unfocused dread and
terrible sadness, one can’t watch Requiem
and not foresee the nightmare which will unfold and the hopelessness it
will leave in its wake. While Pi foretold the potential of Darren
Aronofsky, his second film quickly catapulted him into the public consciousness
as a real force to be reckoned with.
With its gritty cinematography, hallucinatory editing techniques and a
somber, iconic score by Clint Mansell which would soon become world famous and
used regularly in trailers, Requiem for a
Dream is an iron fist of a film that no one will come away from without
feeling the sting that comes with the bruises.
The
Fountain (2006)
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| "You can't fool me! I know you're awake!" |
Just when people began to wonder when
Aronofsky’s next film would come out or how he could top Requiem, his first mainstream release became The Fountain. An expensive
hybrid of futurist science-fiction, medieval period piece and modern human
drama, the film stars Hugh Jackman in three seemingly related roles as a
Spanish conquistador, an oncologist working with animals and a cosmonaut in a
spaceship heading towards a nebula.
Skirting freely between these three seemingly different but similarly
fantastical story threads, The Fountain concerns
the singular goal of Tomas/Tommy Creo (Hugh Jackman) in his pursuit of the
fountain of youth to save Izzi (Rachel Weisz), the woman he loves from dying of
cancer.
Cross-cutting between all three
threads, an element of cold blooded reality creeps in and as the separate
periods begin to traverse upon each other the film becomes a meditation on
man’s fear of dying. While Requiem left a profound impression on
the film world, The Fountain would
succeed Requiem in its bold pursuit
of transcendent emotional heights the likes of which have never been printed on
film before. Coming dangerously close to
Heaven, The Fountain will either
leave you indifferent to its surreal proceedings or make you weep tears of
blood with an emotional sledgehammer.
Reaching for the stars with its startling organic visual effects, lovely
symmetrical vistas and evocative score by Clint Mansell, The Fountain is ultimately about mankind’s crippling inability to
accept death, how eons of time change nothing about that fear, and what it
means to lose a loved one in this world.
While the subject of the afterlife is a subject visited countless times
by many filmmakers and artists all around the world, few films get as close to
the heart of grief and closure as Aronofsky’s labor of love.
Still his most personal and unfettered work
to date, it was with The Fountain that
Aronofsky confidently filled the shoes worn by Kubrick. Although the film was initially rejected by
both the critical establishment confused by the triptych narrative and
audiences expecting an action film instead of a metaphysical meditation on
mortality, there really aren’t enough adjectives of praise, grandeur and
profundity to express the greatness of The
Fountain. It touched me deeper than
any other film in recent memory and remains my personal favorite film of his
and the last eight years. Completely and
utterly perfect in every way and the sole proof of why Aronofsky is this
writer’s current favorite filmmaker.
The
Wrestler (2008)
In a break from tradition, Aronofsky’s The Wrestler jettisoned the
hallucinatory narrative driving his previous films in favor of documentary
realism and a down to Earth story of a washed up, has-been professional
wrestler named Randy the Ram (Mickey Rourke, in what could be his greatest
role). Working with cinematographer
Maryse Alberti and using both real wrestlers and venues, The Wrestler is a quiet character study of a broken old man past
his prime who only knows how to wrestle for a living. In a brilliant casting decision, the film is
as much about the sad protagonist as it is about the actor portraying him.
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| "Three cheers for plastic surgery!!!" |
While the subject of wrestling has always
been one of ridicule and scorn, Aronofsky takes the physicality of the
performance art seriously and shines a spotlight on an industry which continues
to use and abuse their performers. Mickey’s
wrestling scenes bring to the forefront a breathtaking physical performance,
giving both his body and soul to the role of Randy. In parallel to Randy’s story is Cassidy (Marisa
Tomei), an aging stripper approaching a similar plateau of irrelevance. Both performers exploit their own bodies for
a living until time begins to pulls the plug on their respective careers. Meanwhile, in a thread that recalls the
broken relationship between Jake the Snake Roberts and his daughter in the
documentary Beyond the Mat is Randy’s
estranged daughter Stephanie (Evan Rachel Wood). After a heart attack and doctor’s orders to
no longer wrestle, the impoverished, lonely Randy tries to reach out to both
Cassidy and Stephanie with little reward.
While those expecting the usual brand of psychedelics germane to
Aronofsky’s work get something far more down and dirty here. It’s impossible to
think of anyone else playing Randy the Ram, or a film in which actor and
character are so inextricably linked.
Mickey doesn’t so much play Randy as he is Randy, with many, many improvised moments including a blading
scene midway into a wrestling match that is 100% real. The film singlehandedly managed to resurrect
the career of a fallen actor and took a performance art few took seriously and
gave it immediacy and weight. It’s a
shame the newfound success Rourke earned would gradually recede back into old
habits which undid his career in the first place. While Randy the Ram may well have made the
bed he sleeps in, one comes away more invested in this character than any other
in recent memory. Although the underdog
story of Rocky has been told
countless times, few underdog stories manage to get this close to the frail,
desperate soul beneath the hardened, crusty exterior Randy hides behind.
Black
Swan (2010)
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| "I swear officer. It's just allergies." |
Initially a companion piece to The Wrestler from the female perspective
and world of professional ballet, Black
Swan would catapult the independent filmmaker to the forefront of Hollywood
superstardom when the psychological horror film was nominated for Best Picture
and Natalie Portman took home the Best Actress Academy Award. Loosely echoing both the rehearsals and
narrative flow of Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake,
the film is a surreal psychosexual foray into the troubled mind of Nina, an up
and coming ballerina who just won the lead role of the Swan Queen. There’s a lot of competition for this role,
both real and imagined, as the pressures of success and stardom begin to take
their toll on Nina.
Hounded by a
seemingly sleazy theater director Thomas (Vincent Cassel), jealous protégé Beth
(Winona Ryder) and the stunning competitor Lily (Mila Kunis) which Nina both
loathes and lusts for, Black Swan gradually
shifts gears and becomes an experiential hallucinatory freak out as the film
slowly drifts away from reality and into Nina’s head. Much like The
Wrestler, Black Swan displays a
grueling performance art which looks easy to layman until Aronofsky zeroes in
on every broken toenail, cuts and bruises sustained by the poor ballet
performer.
Unarguably the director’s
most grotesque work since Requiem for a
Dream with close-ups of bodily disfigurement in addition to psychological
deterioration, Black Swan is a visual
feast that’s equal parts beautiful and intolerably ugly. Black Swan also bears the distinction of
sporting motifs going all the way back to Pi
being worked into the mainstream, including but not limited to
dopplegangers, subway creeps, eerie underpasses, bodily transformation and many
of the same locations as Pi. Both Nina and the film dive fearlessly
headlong into the twisted splendor of madness, giving the viewer images and
scenarios too bizarre to describe properly and too rich to be easily dismissed.
Viewers lured in by the much-discussed
lesbian scene between Nina and Lily found themselves trapped in one of the most
bizarre horror films in recent memory, freely blurring the lines between
fantasy and reality to the point where we’re not sure what’s really happening
anymore. As Nina reaches artistic
transcendence, so too does she careen towards psychotic oblivion. It’s strange to think that the very
alienating, uncompromising and non-commercial venture Aronofsky created would
wind up becoming hugely successful.
Costing a mere $13 million to produce, the film grossed well over $300
million worldwide and spawned an endless series of tributes and parodies. It would also give rise to what would become
Aronofsky’s most expensive and divisive production to date, but not before it
would forever change what we think of ballet and Swan Lake.
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| "I said DINNER IS ON THE TABLE!!! Wash your hands and get ready to eat!!!" |
Noah
(2014)
Budgeted at $125 million with a massive,
life-sized ark set with some of the top visual effects artists working today,
Darren Aronofsky was ready to tackle his first mainstream Hollywood blockbuster
with Russell Crowe in the titular role of Noah. Buzz surrounding the film’s production and
now legendary battles with Paramount Pictures over final cut no doubt generated
keen interest in the controversial Biblical epic. And yet emerged inarguably the strangest,
most polarizing, un-Hollywood multimillion dollar art film ever made.
Released in IMAX and 3D in international
territories, Aronofsky’s first and only film to open at #1 in the box office
around the world quickly divided critics
and audiences with audacious artistic liberties, hallucinatory psychedelia and
some of the most peculiar, singular director creations ever to walk the
Earth. With co-writer Ari Handel (The Fountain) penning the screenplay,
that Aronofsky was able to take a second crack at the metaphysical epic The Fountain (including two subtle
subliminal edits from The Fountain
included), maintain final cut and purport genuine state-of-the-art visual
effects is nothing short of miraculous.
With Noah, Aronofsky takes the
Biblical tale of all the world’s animals boarding the ark to survive the Great
Flood and turned it into something of a modern environmentalist horror film that
is as breathtaking as it is disturbing.
Banned in Middle Eastern territories as well as a dartboard for
backlash, Noah is the most
controversial religious film ever made by a major director since Martin
Scorsese’s The Last Temptation of Christ. It takes a familiar story and injects real
human turmoil and innermost conflict over the sacrifices made for the salvation
of all things living. Still a subject of
intense debate, Noah also marks the
first film of Aronofsky’s largely shot on open Icelandic locations. Where most of his films are insular and
withdrawn, Noah is open wide and roaring
noisily with nature. While one of many
adaptations of the world famous Biblical tale, few have such fantastical
elements filmed as full blooded realism, such daring transitions of character,
and such astonishing visual beauty. No
doubt Noah is flawed by being far too
overreaching but for a mainstream “Hollywood” offering, this is Aronofsky
working to the edge of his craft and intellect.
This sort of film doesn’t come around very often, if at all in most
cases. That is far more than you can say
about most of the usual fare dominating the multiplexes.
-Andrew Kotwicki
