Junkie fables can be told well or poorly, but they're all basically the same. Then we watch as dope enslaves them, while they desperately try to reclaim that illusory sense of power and are reduced to abject misery. Leto and Connelly make an affecting young couple in love going no place. The time period is unspecified, though it's clearly more recent than Selby's book. Wayans, who may have the deadliest suavity of all his brothers, plays Tyrone as a bubbly enthusiast, which is a nice touch.
Drug users can be an awful lot of fun when things are going well.
But the best Aronofsky can provide him with, in terms of an inner life, is a hackneyed recurring fantasy about his mother. When Selby's book was first published, it might have been original to observe that Americans are addicted in all possible directions, not just to narcotics but also to television, diet pills, impossible visions of celebrity. This touch is original to Aronofsky and Selby's screenplay, and it's inspired if grotesque satire. This clunker is so inept, it doesn't even provide an opportunity to ogle Angelina Jolie properly. A citified scholar condescends to rural folk in Maggie Greenwald's patronizing drama.