Pi is the closest film has yet come to replicating hip-hop. That's not to say that the script is all "motherfucker" and "ho", in fact the swearing is kept to a minimum throughout. And I don't mean the soundtrack is all Snoopy-G or Icey Dre either, even though it does go for a rather ambient techno type affair that will probably be horribly dated in five years time. No, what I mean is that this film has a rhythm one could feasibly dance to. The editing gives the impression of a record being scratched back and forth, back and forth, to give those delightful "wikka wikka" noises, except instead of aural it's visual. "Wikka wikka" editing, if you will. There's a pulse here, a beat so sharp one could lose a damn finger. Shots are repeated over and over, footage speeds up, bizarre angles abound. Wikka Wikka.

On this evidence, you would assume Aronofsky to be some kind of demented genius. You might even be right. And indeed, The Duke may have to swallow the old humble pi, regurgitate it, and sit down to watch that Puke Yourself Thin flick again. The old Wikka Wikka cuts are very persuasive.

Pi brings to mind Eraserhead, whilst simultaneously hinting at Tetsuo - Iron Man, and also throws in a fair old measure of Barton Fink. But the whole is pure original genius. The high-contrast black and white photography will knock the eyes out of you for a while, and the numbers and sums and adding up and taking away will give you a pounding headache if you're not careful, but it's all a whole heap of worth-it.

If only Aronofsky could turn his attentions to French or Biology, perhaps the entire education system would appear as vibrant, tantalising and intriguing as the old maths now seems. I'm off to buy me a calculator and a drill.

Come visit The Duke, won't you, at Mondo Irlando.