Spotlight

Spotlight Date: 18-September-05
Spoiler Rating: Medium

Pi (1998)

I don't know about you, but when I think of mathematical geniuses I usually envision unkempt nerds detached from real life who pursue knowledge that has no meaning to anybody except people like themselves. This image is rattled, gratifyingly, when I watch "Pi." One of the many cool things about Darren Aronofsky's first major film is that it shows how a guy who's brilliant and therefore nerdy is actually deeply involved with the fabric of life. His study is arcane but not irrelevant; in fact, it's so Important-with-a-capital-"I" that his psyche can hardly bear the burden. Although challenging, "Pi" doesn't require you to be a genius, it just shows you what a difficult existence that might be.

Aronofsky portrays the story of brainiac Max Cohen (Sean Gullette) using coarse black-and-white cinematography that immediately yanks you out of your comfortable frame of mind. A New York City recluse, Max spends his days and nights applying a homemade supercomputer toward finding the pattern behind the stock market, a pattern, he believes, which reflects the fundamental structure of nature. He's hampered in his work by vicious migraines and the intrusions of people who have an interest in him (friendly or otherwise), including his neighbors, his mentor (Mark Margolis), a Wall Street shark (Pamela Hart), and an acquaintance at the local diner who views the Torah as a numbered code (Ben Shenkman). As Max appears to approach a discovery that could lay bare the secret of the universe, these influences intensify until his very existence is threatened.

Although Max's theories do generate some "Whoa, heavy!" moments, the movie never makes it clear where the philosophical revelations end and the madness of genius begins. Max has a hard time keeping the hallucinations of his exceptional but damaged brain out of his vision of reality, which leads to the familiar suggestion that only fools can see absolute Truth. His flirtation with insanity is crucial to the film, because it makes him sympathetic and offers a second target for the story's fulfillment beyond the intellectual one. Like the pretty neighbor who longs to remove Max from his shell, you can't help but feel sorry for him and want to mother him, especially when his headaches flatten him in screaming anguish. The confrontation between his personal experience and his metaphysical quest leads to a finale that voices the abiding question: is it more important for people to live or to understand the meaning of life?

In the end, Max can't separate the two parts of this question; his definition of self revolves around his need and ability to comprehend the world in a basic but unprecedented way. (His compulsion reminds me of the common urge to clean house in times of stress, a hunger for order in the face of the physical chaos that tortures him every day.) But mad or misguided as he may be, he's worthier of the life he misses than others who are obsessed with power in the form of religion or money. He's a mental giant in pursuit of neither esoterica nor worldly gain. He just wants to learn how it all works and then rest in the knowledge that he played his part.

Copyright © 2005 The Jujube (M. I. Kim). All rights reserved.