I have no idea anymore how I came across Clint Mansell’s chilling musical composition, “Lux Aeterna.” Literally translated as “eternal light,” the words are from the ending prayer of the Latin mass for the dead, beseeching God to be merciful in shining light and love on the departed for all eternity.
One link or comment or other lure begets another, and whatever I was initially looking for was subsumed a few notes into the Kronos Quartet’s performance (see below). Mansell engaged the renowned group to serve as the musical interpreters of his friend Darren Aronofsky’s “Requiem for a Dream,” a 2000 film that deals in frantic, quick-cutting, hyper-realistic fashion with the wages of both drug addiction and the death of the American Dream.
Burstyn goes to pieces before our eyes, a portrait of bottomless loneliness and yearning for some measure of validation that she matters, and in her words, is ‘seen’ by others as the caring and tender soul she is.
Mansell’s hypnotic score—not limited to but best exemplified by “Lux Aeterna”—is of the type to bring one’s breathing up short, the skin tingling in anticipation and anxiety for a resolution that never comes, but is never less than compelling throughout. It’s probably best described as “minimalist classical” but in truth, it almost defies categorization, just as the film does.
Based on a 1978 novel of the same name by the notoriously dark Hubert Selby, Jr. (a reformed addict himself who co-wrote the screenplay with Aronofsky), “Requiem for a Dream” is about equal parts inter- and intrapersonal drama, hallucinatory drug ride, and painful examination of human loneliness, self-delusion, and the costs that come with seeking release along the well-trod avenues of drugs, fame, or the fake intimacies and invitations of pitchmen blaring from screens.
***
***
I doubt Aronofsky would disagree that it’s a hard movie to watch. I cannot in good conscience recommend it to those without a very strong stomach—which I increasingly don’t possess anymore myself. For reasons probably having to do more with the music than anything else, I held steady through the rigors of this one-hour, forty-three-minute descent into the dark chaotic depths of unquenchable human need.
And I have to admit, I’ve been fighting the impulse all day to take a second dip.
Aronofsky shoots much of it from within the subjective, experiential world of the addicts themselves. That pulls the viewing audience, ready or not, deeply into the rat-a-tat, disjointed imagery that can typify unguided altered states driven by desperation for release rather than exploration of the farther reaches of mind.
Ellen Burstyn, her long-ago role as the mother in “The Exorcist” perhaps laying the groundwork for her freakishly courageous performance here, shares the screen with the then-young actors Jared Leto, Jennifer Connolly and Marlan Wayans. The intertwined, increasingly benumbed quartet all find themselves left ultimately alone to face their internal demons and the world ready to crush them without a thought.
It’s the pursuit of heroin and the dream of slipping into the insider’s lane of self-financing their addiction as dealers that binds the younger trio. None of them, however, is wicked enough to be good at it, so they succumb to unspeakable depravities that those without scruples demand of them in exchange for their all-too-fleeting highs.
Meanwhile, Burstyn, as Leto’s widowed mother, gets conned via anonymous phone call into thinking she’s finally going to rise from the well-worn grooves of the easy chair in her Brooklyn apartment, put on the fabulous red dress hanging in her closet since her husband’s premature death, and be universally feted as a contestant on the game show she watches obsessively, and which now sees her channeling Willy Loman in jubilantly exclaiming to her son, “Everybody wants me! A reason to smile…”
Oops—the red dress turns out not to fit her anymore. A visit to the utterly uncaring, doctor-as-mere-order-filling-clerk follows, as do the diet pills that see Burstyn go to pieces before our eyes, a portrait of bottomless loneliness and yearning for some measure of validation that she matters, and in her words, is “seen” by others as the caring and tender soul she is.
Burstyn’s devastating star turn won her an Academy Award nomination, but she lost out on the award to, wait for it… yes…Julia Roberts in “Erin Brockovich.” Not a bad movie at all, but given Burstyn’s performance, a travesty. (Talk about not being “seen”…)
***
For those (I suspect many) who will (sensibly, self-protectively) skip the movie based on the above, I will nevertheless urge you to dive into the two iterations of “Lux Aeterna” here below. It’s an absolutely arresting piece, full of drama, intrigue, anticipation, wariness.
Not easily abandoned after its first notes, nor easily forgotten in its aftermath.
Though its wordlessness makes it technically not a song at all, “Lux Aeterna” becomes at least partly so in the second version, which adds a full orchestra, choir and scenes from the movie on a large video screen in the concert hall.
In an increasingly mixed media age, this “innovation” will no doubt leave purists sputtering in rage, but it may well be just the kind of adaptation to modern sensibilities that salvages classical, serious music from the dustbin and death notices of its largely aged concert hall attendees.
Besides which, watching and listening to serious musicians pursuing their craft with such great purpose could serve as an antidote to whatever remnants of anomie and despair may linger in the wake of a challenging movie posing forever difficult questions about the human condition.
***
***
***
Finally, this two-minute, twenty-four-second trailer gives a very good flavor for how the film chronicles the unspooling lives of the protagonists.
***
Enjoy this little mashup of music and movie? Other such pairings you feel inspired to recommend? Make use of the Comments box below, or drop a note: andrew@andrewhidas.com.
Looking to subscribe to this blog’s pretty much weekly posts? Top right of this page, just plug in your email address (never shared or published) with a name—full, first name only, or pseudonym—and you’ll get email notices with each post.
Deep appreciation to the photographers! Unless otherwise stated, some rights reserved under Creative Commons licensing.
Elizabeth Haslam, whose photos (except for library books) grace the rotating banner top of homepage. https://www.flickr.com/photos/lizhaslam/
Library books by Larry Rose, Redlands, California, all rights reserved, contact: larry@rosefoto.com
Mountain slope by Brittany Martin https://unsplash.com/@brittanyreanne
Woman in forest by Georgi Kalaydzhiev, Sofia, Bulgaria https://unsplash.com/@jorok
Sometime ago I tried giving “Requiem for a Dream” a watch but found it a little too much for my tender senses. However, Clint Mansell’s “Lux Aeterna”, especially the Kronos Quartet’s live recording, is moving. It’s a somber string piece, grounded effectively by the cello, and its mournful crescendo aptly suits the darkness of the film. Incidentally, Julia Roberts, though nominated for an Oscar in “Pretty Woman”, never won. She did receive a best actress statuette for “Erin Brockovich”.
Right, Robert, I’d even discussed the Brockovich movie in the context of its political bent probably being a factor in her award, but by the time I got to writing, that dang “Pretty Woman” snuck back in, it being so identified with her oeuvre. Many thanks for the correction, with the error rectified in the text above.