Darren Aronofsky is slowly but surely being recognized as one of America's premiere newcomer filmmakers. His blunt, emotional and visually stunning style represents the poetic voice of the new generation, whatever the figureheads are calling it now. His first film, Pi, was critically acclaimed and attracted a fairly large following for an independent film. However, the harsh mental and optical workout of the film was only an exercise for what could easily be called one of 2000's best and most dynamic films, Requiem for a Dream. The story follows four characters into their addictions and the meltdown that results, in an original linear format that's gorgeous as well as extremely disturbing.

With these films comes music that stands alone while holding parallel qualities to the films they accompany. For his two films so far, Aronofsky has chosen to trust former Pop Will Eat Itself frontman Clint Mansell with the incidental score work. Mansell is his aural soul mate, creating rich, layered soundscapes that aid Aronofsky's brilliant storytelling without words or imagery. Fortunately, his music is easy to appreciate outside of the film environment and in record format. On the Requiem for a Dream score album, featuring the strings of the Kronos Quartet, each repetition of the many different themes holds a different meaning as they develop ever so subtly.

Like the film, the soundtrack is separated into three parts: Summer, Fall and Winter. Many of the basic themes are laid out in the first act. The "Summer Overture" begins with a perfect combination of the Quartet's organic expressions and Mansell's wide synthesized palette. Simple, beautiful string melodies, recalling Laurie Anderson's violin work or even Philip Glass' film scores, are accompanied by a crunching electronic beat and a repeating keyboard riff. The "Party" theme immediately follows with jarring synthesizer and a pulsing techno beat, which leads flawlessly into the "Dreams" theme, an effective but eerie comedown with calm, floating keyboards.

The "Ghosts" theme begins with a droning major chord that hovers over the Quartet's immaculate euphony, but later in the act, adds a minor section that augments the previously blissful tone with a sense of chilling suspense and paranoia. These themes are utilized and repeated throughout the acts, and evolve slightly each time to further foreshadow the foreboding conclusion. Even the brief congas that end the "Summer" and "Fall" acts, which would be lively and energetic out of context, seem strangely morbid.

The "Fall" piece is used to create a more subdued terror that eventually begins to creep into your ears and head. Each violin, beat, synth drone, and buzz of feedback becomes a little more fear-inspiring. No matter how many times you've heard them already, the themes create a slight rise in adrenaline each time. "Fall" is simply a segue, though, for the ultimate chaos and destruction that "Winter" brings.

"Winter" begins with a brief reprise of the "Summer Overture" theme before it kicks into its main theme with pulsing strings and a marching rhythm created by string samples. Mansell manipulates the organic sound of the strings by extracting them from their natural environment, and reconstructs them as frightening, mechanical effects. This theme cuts in and out with the other reprising themes, each time sounding more sinister. And just when, by all indications, the intensity could no longer build, it rises to the final "Meltdown" climax, leaving terror and breathlessness in its wake.

The "Summer Overture" theme appears one more time to act as a denouement, before the final sounds of the record-- the ocean and the Coney Island pier-- come to sweep you away. In the end, Mansell's Requiem for a Dream score is a deeply affecting, absorbing record that can be experienced in its full emotional spectrum with or without seeing Aronofsky's film. And just as the film isn't for the squeamish or easily nightmared, its soundtrack is not for those who enjoy light musical accompaniment. This is not background music for parties. Each experience haunts long after its end, begging to be experienced again, and to be endlessly appreciated for its pure, undaunted brilliance.

-Spencer Owen