Much like the well-known Literary Criticism lemma of the "intentional fallacy" (not fallacy with intent, that is - but, rather, the fallacy of assuming intent upon an author), the effect "Decasia" has upon the viewer will inevitably be a co-creation. Themes of Walter Said's "Orientalism" abounded in my head as the juxtaposition of Middle-Eastern and Asian imagery was infused with the designs of film decay: was this a brilliant visual citation of deconstructionist theory? Surely, the similarity to fractals which the living "blotches" of film decomposition bore was not lost upon the orchestrators, was it? Well, to learn that the etymology of the title was derived from a play on Disney's "Fantasia" did little to support the postmodern "reading" I initially lent the film.
Nonetheless, the pairing of these *entirely* unmanipulated images (save for their being slowed down) found and woven together by Bill Morrison along with Gordon's homage to Phillip Glass' "qatsi" trilogy elicited a rather visceral response from my mesmerized occipital lobe.
This film continues in the trend of what I like to call "aesthetic narrative" (the genesis of which I credit to Godfrey Reggio and Phillip Glass' "Koyaanisqatsi"): a filmic genre in which the "deep structure" of film is laid bare for the experience of the audience - there is no script, no plot, and no spoken word throughout the presentation; however, the proof of film as an art form unto itself is given by dint of the multiplicity of analyses projected and digested by the viewer.
Thus, while enjoying a mixed reception, the film stands as centrally important to this postmodern genre of "aesthetic narrative" (the term for which, by the way, I may likely have coined; feel free to adopt its usage whenever applicable). Certainly it bears watching.
Nonetheless, the pairing of these *entirely* unmanipulated images (save for their being slowed down) found and woven together by Bill Morrison along with Gordon's homage to Phillip Glass' "qatsi" trilogy elicited a rather visceral response from my mesmerized occipital lobe.
This film continues in the trend of what I like to call "aesthetic narrative" (the genesis of which I credit to Godfrey Reggio and Phillip Glass' "Koyaanisqatsi"): a filmic genre in which the "deep structure" of film is laid bare for the experience of the audience - there is no script, no plot, and no spoken word throughout the presentation; however, the proof of film as an art form unto itself is given by dint of the multiplicity of analyses projected and digested by the viewer.
Thus, while enjoying a mixed reception, the film stands as centrally important to this postmodern genre of "aesthetic narrative" (the term for which, by the way, I may likely have coined; feel free to adopt its usage whenever applicable). Certainly it bears watching.