I think watching Requiem for a Dream for the first time over two decades after its release helps me to bring a unique perspective to the table. Obviously, what was once considered disturbing, extreme, and graphic back in 2000 may have lost a little of its edge today. I believe the audience for these types of movies have also become more worldly. So, my own person advice to anyone going in to see Requiem for a Dream for the first time is to temper your expectations. The film has aged remarkably well, and it still delivers a very effective emotional gut punch, but Requiem for a Dream’s reputation as one of the most disturbing films ever made is a little bit American-centric and dated.

So, let us talk about what Requiem for a Dream actually is. It is one of Darren Aronofsky’s (Pi, Black Swan) best films. Some of the content, particularly the infamous ass-to-ass scene, is still be considered graphic by today’s standards. Also, horror fans will appreciate just how much Aronofsky flirts with the genre in this film. Some hallucinations are the stuff of nightmares, and the gradual physical decline of the main characters, particularly Sara and Harry, is true body horror. The film’s bleak depiction of addiction is also purely nihilistic. Believe me when I tell you that Requiem for a Dream is not a place to turn if you are looking for real answers on how to get out of the cycle of drug addiction. Instead, it is where you should go if you are hoping to get scared straight.

The plot of the film, for the most part, consists of two stories loosely connected by the relationship between a mother and her son, both living in Brooklyn. At the start of the film, Harry Goldfarb (Jared Leto) is seen arguing with his widowed mother Sara (Ellen Burstyn) as he is about to pawn the television to get money to buy some heroin. Surprisingly, this will be one of the few times we see Sara and Harry together on screen, as their storylines diverge on parallel paths from there.

Harry, his friend Tyrone (Marlon Wayans) and his girlfriend Marion (Jennifer Connelly) all start the film as functioning heroin addicts. Together, they that pool together their money to buy quality heroin to cut with the cheaper stuff to sell on the streets for a substantial profit. Meanwhile, Sara gets a call one day telling her that she has been selected to be on a television show, but which show and when is never actually stated. However, a consent form does arrive, and Sara, loving the extra attention the women in the community now give her, fills it out with their help. The problem is when Sara finally gets her chance to be on television, she hopes to fit into her favourite red dress. But since her husband died, she has put on weight. So when the diet she goes on fails, Sara goes to a doctor, under the advice of one of her friends, to get pills designed to help her lose those extra pounds.

Now that everybody’s got a plan, life can only get better…right?

In the 90’s, crime was a genre of choice for young independent filmmakers. Many of the movies of that era romanticized drug culture, and the early portions of Harry’s vignettes seem to be following a similar trajectory. But there are a few scenes in the early going that suggest a more frightening fate awaits these characters. Harry spaces out to an improbable fantasy in a cafeteria while sitting beside a police officer, only to be brought back to his senses with Tyrone’s help. Tyrone convinces Harry that unwisely to get high on their own supply, stating it would be good to know what their selling. Marlon, with Harry’s knowledge, pursues a creepy relationship with her former therapist. At one point, she stares at her uncomfortably stares at her half-naked reflection while in a drug induced haze. And Sara constantly lies to herself about Harry’s behaviour even though she starts the movie so afraid of him that she locks herself in her room. These are bad omens, revealing a set of delusional protagonists longing for a better lot in life, all blinded by hubris.

Aronofsky’s film is aggressive. It is designed to make people feel uncomfortable. Aronofsky pulled no punches in the editing room. Repetitive montages, split screens and stop motion are all techniques he employs. The film choices Aronofsky makes are deliberately done to mimic addiction. And the pulsing minimalist neoclassical electronic score also helps to reave up tension until it becomes entwined with the film’s final climactic images. When making the Requiem for a Dream, Aronofsky has said that he was partly inspired by music videos, but he wanted there to also be more substance behind the images. Mission accomplished.

Today, the vignette that will most likely resonate the most is Sara’s story. It is a tale that now seems prolific while we currently tackle a serious opioid crisis. The ease in which Sara acquires the pills, and the doctor’s lack of care and empathy all point to real failures in the American health care system. Ellen Burstyn received a Best Actress nomination for her role as Sara and with good reason. She is spot on playing the lonely Brooklyn mother, especially at the film’s turning point, projecting a woman whose desire for attention has inadvertently made her an addict. Of all the characters, her story is the most tragic and realized.

Viewed today, its obvious that Requiem for a Dream is not without flaws. Marion’s character arc is pushed aside during the middle of the film and Tyrone’s arc, which relies heavily on a single flashback, is barely developed at all, which is problematic considering he is the only non-white lead.

Still, Requiem for a Dream shows us a master of the psychological thriller at the peak of his creativity, captivating viewers with a unique visual hellscape. The images in Aronofsky’s film resonates with anyone who is dealing or knows someone who is dealing with an addiction. It is film that was bold in its time and remains equally powerful and heartbreaking today.

I also have little doubt that if this film was released today, it would had been quickly embrassed by the ever-evolving horror community. It is a modern horror masterpiece.