Knowledge can be a gift and a curse. When tasked with a goal or an obsession, most will have the ignorant bliss that is an inability to recognize the calling. For those that become obsessed, however, rarely is the journey a simple or pleasant one. Darren Aronofsky seems to understand this well, as his debut masterpiece π illustrates to a tee.
Max Cohen (Sean Guilette) is deeply entangled in research with hopes of unlocking the pattern he assume lies at the root of nature, man and all things between. With his supercomputer Euclid, he digs deeper and deeper into his belief in mathematics, much to the behest of his mentor Sol Robeson (Mark Margolis) (a formidable mathematic genius in his own right). After a serious of shocking breakthroughs, specifically the discovery of a random 216 digit number, exterior forces begin to invade Max’s life in two significant forms : Marcy Dawson (Pamela Hart), a businesswoman representing a powerful firm with access to supercomputer technology; and Lenny Meyer (Ben Shenkman), a Hasidic Jew and numerologist himself entangled in the discovery of a 216 digit number that may be key to unlocking codes hidden beneath the text of the Torah. Max, despite the concerns of Robeson and his neighbor Devi (Samia Shoaib), continues his journey, playing the ends against the middle in an effort to satisfy the obsession barley holding together the fiber of his being.
Max is a pawn (or, better yet, a stone in a game of Go) between two strict belief systems : science (including math) and religion. Both seek to find a code that can unlock the truth that exists just beneath the truth we know, and both systems oddly enough end up targeting the same 216 digit number for similar but unique personal reasons. The battlefield that the war plays out on is in the midst of its own struggle where order and reason tangle with chaos and happenstance. In the end, Max embraces it all by playing the religious numerologist and their insights against Marcy Dawson and the powerful technology her company offers in order to satisfy his personal obsession.
Max’s methodical speech patterns are a reflection of his deeply complex beliefs in the scientific method and the patterns he believes exist within nature. Despite this longing to unlock the connected thread, he is disconnected fromt he world at large, most of humanity (by choice), and the social aspects of society, even though his base needs and longings are clearly present. We as viewers are all prisoners to his paranoia, and each representation leads us to the acceptance of his madness (and eventual drastic actions). Max sees people that disappear suddenly, is assaulted by a light at his door, is consistently pestered and surveilled by Marcy Dawn and Lenny Meyer, and even finds more than one brain in his path, all events that would shake an individual on their own. On a larger note, the 216 digit number (and its true nature) open up many lines of thought in terms of Max and his supposed madness, and whether or not it may be a representation of man’s incapacity to hear the true voice of God.
Darren Aranofsky always wears his influences on his sleeve, and I believe there are elements in this film meant to be nods to said influences : the computer that occupies the entirety of Max’s apartment is reminiscent of the one in the anime series serial experiments : lain, and the swirling cream in the coffee seems to be similar to the swirl in Travis Bickle’s coffee during Taxi Driver. In terms of aesthetic, the screen grit on top of the black and white reversal camera footage reminds me of an old computer monitor. Clint Mansell’s brilliant score is a star of the film in its own right. Many Aranofsky trademarks make their debut in this film, including his ‘hip-hop editing’ and the use of snorricam.
Sean Gullette weaves a genius sensibility into a manic obsessive personality, putting us on edge if we choose to wholly invest in his journey. Mark Margolis plays the fatherly concern to a tee, while allowing shades of a former possessed genius to be seen at intervals that raise the right amount of questions. Ben Shenkman’s ‘devil you know’ approach makes him both friend and foe, showing shades of comrade and protagonist in his characterization. Pamela Hart comes on a bit more forceful with her dominating personality, even if she is taking a ‘kill them with kindness’ approach to it. Samia Shoaib is charming in the way that she shows a motherly pity and concern for Max while having no idea how deeply in over his head he is. Stephen Pearlman’s brief appearance is pitch perfect.
I was lucky enough to discover this one via my own minimal path of obsession during the days of video rental stores. I’d often see this film on the shelves, and always said that I’d rent it one day. When I finally did check out π, I instantly realized that I did myself a favor. If you’ve not seen this film, you should do yourself a favor as well.
