Horror manifests in many forms. Sometimes it’s a cursed doll or a haunted house. Other times it’s a restless spirit making itself known. But I’ve always found the scariest form of horror to be the kind that isn’t attached to an item or a location, but rather a person. Sometimes, the scariest monster isn’t lurking under your bed. It’s inside your head.
Such is the case with Darren Aronofsky’s 2000 cult classic Requiem For a Dream, which just celebrated its 25th anniversary. While some might argue it isn’t a horror film, I say it is. No, it doesn’t feature an evil force pulling someone out of bed at night, or a planchette being pushed across a Ouija board by unseen hands. But Requiem For A Dream (based on the Hubert Selby Jr. novel of the same name) is all about the demons that live inside of us, and the horrific things people possessed by drug addiction do to themselves — and those they love — in an attempt to survive.
We first meet protagonist Harry Goldfarb (Jared Leto) as he’s attempting to steal a television from his elderly mother, Sara (Ellen Burstyn). It’s clear Sara loves her son, but in the moment we first meet them, Harry’s inner demons are already coming out to play. Sara has locked herself in the closet to escape Harry, who is hoping to pawn the TV for cash so he can get his hands on the film’s main antagonist: heroin.
Harry’s eyes are wide, wild, pupils blown. His shirt is soaked with the cold sweat of opiate withdrawal. Sara peeks through the keyhole in the closet, watching. This isn’t her sweet, handsome, loving son. This is the monstrous creature that comes out of him from time to time. Sara knows if she waits long enough, the storm will pass, and her real son will return to her.
This isn’t the first time Harry has pawned his mother’s TV. To prevent the repeated thefts, she’s chained it to the radiator, and has the key to the padlock with her in the closet. When Harry discovers this, he immediately takes a page out of the typical emotional abuser’s handbook, yelling, “Jesus, what are you tryin’ to do? You tryin’ to get me to break my own mother’s set? And break the radiator too, and maybe blow up the whole house, Ma? Is that what you’re tryin’ to do?”
Sara silently slips the key to the padlock under the door.
It’s clear Harry feels guilty, but his guilt is overridden by the antsy agony of acute heroin withdrawal. As soon as he wheels the aging TV set outside, where his best friend, Tyrone (Marlon Wayans), has been waiting, any thoughts of guilt evaporate. After dragging the set halfway across the city, Harry and Tyrone pawn it for cash. We don’t even see them purchase the substance, and the word “heroin” is never once said out loud throughout the entire film. All we get are some quick close-up shots of heroin being cooked in a spoon, then injected. An unseen voice sighs. The demon inside Harry is sated.
For now.
Meanwhile, poor Sara has traipsed across town to get her television back, and it soon becomes evident that she has a bit of an addiction of her own. With her husband gone and her son unrecognizable, Sara turns to food and television for comfort. Aside from Harry’s inconsistent visits and the time she spends outside tanning with the other women in her apartment building, Sara doesn’t get out much. The television is her window to the outside world, and she’s especially fond of a bizarre gameshow-slash-infomercial hosted by a weight-loss guru named Tappy Tibbons (Christopher McDonald). She spends hours snacking on chocolate and watching the show, in which random viewers are occasionally selected, winning money and a chance to appear on the show, which also serves as an ad for Tibbons’ weight-loss supplements.
Eventually, Sara gets a call letting her know she’s been selected to appear on a gameshow, which is the biggest news she’s had to share in a long time. She immediately sets a goal: She wants to fit into the red dress she wore to Harry’s high school graduation, so she can wear it on stage during filming. When she can’t get the back of the dress zipped, she resolves to lose some weight. She tries dieting, quickly grows frustrated. At the advice of a friend, Sara sees a doctor, who promptly prescribes her stimulant medication for weight loss.
Harry and Tyrone, however, are working on dreams of their own. The plan is to get ahold of some good dope, cut it with something to make it stretch farther than it otherwise would, and sell it off, using the profits to repeat the process until they’ve accumulated a nice nest egg. Harry is motivated in part by his physical addiction to the drug, but also wants to impress his girlfriend Marion (Jennifer Connelly), a rebellious young woman who comes from a privileged background, but prefers to spend her time getting high. Marion designs clothing and hopes to one day sell her designs, a dream which Harry wants to support. After hearing Harry and Tyrone’s business plan, Marion seems to be on board, but wisely asks, “What’s the catch?”
The catch, obviously, is that drug addiction will destroy everything and everyone in its path. Rewatching Requiem For A Dream, I’m amazed how similar it is to The Substance, from the fever-dream cinematography to the focus on the torture women go through in an attempt to defy aging and adhere to ever-changing beauty standards. Like Coralie Fargeat’s 2024 body-horror masterpiece, Requiem For A Dream pulls apart the shiny, put-together veneers its protagonists hide behind, laying bare the horrifying truth of their reality. Though they differ in many ways, both films share a message: You can use substances to silence your inner demons, but that silence will come at a great cost, and it will only ever be temporary. In the end, you will become unrecognizable.
Requiem For A Dream‘s ending doesn’t splatter across the pavement the way The Substance does in its final moments, but the film’s final act is no less harrowing, showing the utter devastation that results from feeding one’s inner demons rather than facing them. It can be a hard film to recommend simply due to the incredibly depressing, bleak nature of its subject matter (not to mention a few scenes of body horror and coercive sex).
But despite its ugly subject matter, Requiem For A Dream is a beautifully shot film with an incredible cast. Ellen Burstyn earned a Best Actress nomination for her performance as Sara, and while I’m not a particularly big fan of Jared Leto, Requiem is arguably the best performance of his entire career. Jennifer Connelly is heartbreakingly convincing as Marion, who is probably the most likable of the film’s trio of heroin addicts, and it’s always a treat to see funnyman Marlon Wayans playing a straight role.
Aronofsky’s adaptation of Hubert Selby Jr.’s novel is at odds with itself in the best way. It’s horrific, but beautifully shot. It’s got moments of genuine humor, but is decidedly serious. It’s grounded in reality, but punctuated with scenes of over-the-top chaos as characters fantasize or dissociate. It doesn’t present its protagonists in a flattering light, but doesn’t villainize them, either. Even the film’s score is simultaneously stunning and grating. Ultimately, Requiem For A Dream offers an unflinchingly honest look at the horrors of addiction — a reality that’s far scarier than whatever supernatural spine-chiller happens to be playing in theaters.
