Life Out of Balance
Last night, I watched Koyaanisqatsi for the second time since college. I had forgotten that it had been finally released on DVD sometime in the 2000's (or I would have gotten a copy for myself then. Instead, I checked out a copy from the finest library system in the nation, Columbus Metropolitan Library). Two things enhanced the experience: the first was alcohol (Maker's Mark over ice if you care), the second was my remembrance of the first experience.
I was in college in the late '80's and early '90's, and sometime immediately before the first Gulf War, some left-wing organization there (rarer than in other schools; I cherish the experience of going to school where I did, but I do often refer to it fondly as "Republican State University") had a showing of the film in some large lecture hall in one of the liberal arts buildings, which has probably been torn down by now to make room for yet another building to house the business or teaching colleges. Anyway, I was looking forward to the movie, if for no other reason than I knew who Philip Glass was, via Errol Morris' The Thin Blue Line, seen on PBS when I was a teenager (another story for another time).
I don't think I was expecting to have the experience that I did. I thought I would be seeing a ninety-minute music video with some vague ecological message; what I got was a metaphorical trepanning. It's difficult to say exactly why it struck me so hard; I think that it was the fact that the music and visuals had been matched with such care and attention. Not in a gimmicky way, in the sense that every two-bit Fourth of July fireworks display is carefully timed so that it will climax when Lee Greenwood sings the last bit of "God Bless the U.S.A.", but in the sense that it's hard to tell whether Philip Glass was composing to the visuals, or Godfrey Reggio and Ron Fricke (the director and director of photography, respectively) were filming to the music. At least that's what I remember, that and so much of the evening visuals (the famous shot of the moon rising behind the skyscraper, the people walking the streets at night and staring out the camera, etc.)
Twenty years later, and under the influence of one of the Commonwealth of Kentucky's finer exports, I saw things completely differently. I now think that Reggio and Glass are often working at cross purposes in Koyaanisqatsi. For one thing, I've seen the "sequel," Powaqqatsi (which I remember as a depressing ode to how much happier the rich first world would be if we could just be more like the happy poor brown people, which is, honestly, a bull's byproduct). I have, so far, avoided the third film in the trilogy, Naqoyqatsi, and don't plan to view it until I retire to Appalachia to live in a small cabin and, possibly, smoke crazy amounts of pot. Anyway, it is apparent that Reggio definitely has an agenda with Koyaanisqatsi, and Glass doesn't. When Reggio shows buildings being blown up, and piles of rubble, and mushroom clouds, and casino waitresses in uniform being forced to stand still and smile like professionals for what seems like ten minutes (a bit that reminded me of Andy Warhol's films), just to make the point that "our" life "calls for another way of living," Glass' music is just as majestic, otherworldly and detached as when Reggio is showing clouds billowing at high speed and shadows flowing across desert canyons in the first "nature is great" part of the movie.
I suppose one could argue that this is because Glass' music is gimmicky and all sounds the same anyway, but I disagree with you on principle there, since I have enjoyed his music for twenty years and have no trouble telling one piece, or opus, apart from another. (Case in point: I've rewatched The Illusionist recently, and the music is so different from this that it's as if there's two different guys named Philip Glass out there composing soundtracks.) It's pretty clear to me that Glass, regardless of his personal feelings in the matter, was seeing images to compose to, and Reggio was seeing symbols of his, Reggio's, point of view.
So, you could, conceivably, see this movie as an ode to technology, rather than a warning against it. You might or might not make Godfrey Reggio grind his teeth (he actually seemed like a nice enough guy in the interview portion of the DVD), but I think it's one way to view this movie. It seems to me that this is because Glass' music doesn't care one way or the other, and this is what gives the movie its tension and its ambiguity and what makes it a memorable viewing experience. Well, that and the moon rising behind the skyscraper, which is still the most fantastic thing I've seen in a movie ever. (I remember some "oohs" from the audience the first time I saw it. Maybe you can do that with a computer program now, and it's not quite as impressive. It was to me.)
But is it a "great" film? A masterpiece? Don't ask me. I can't judge a masterpiece for crap, since I'll always prefer watching Blazing Saddles to whatever won the Oscar last year. (Although I will say that Ron Fricke had the Oscar stolen from him the year Koyaanisqatsi was released. I don't care what movie won best photography that year, it wasn't as good.) I do know that I'm going to check Amazon to see if Koyaanisqatsi is still available for less that one million dollars. You know, maybe I'll even see if Powaqqatsi is available from the library too. I've changed as well over twenty years, so you never know.
I was in college in the late '80's and early '90's, and sometime immediately before the first Gulf War, some left-wing organization there (rarer than in other schools; I cherish the experience of going to school where I did, but I do often refer to it fondly as "Republican State University") had a showing of the film in some large lecture hall in one of the liberal arts buildings, which has probably been torn down by now to make room for yet another building to house the business or teaching colleges. Anyway, I was looking forward to the movie, if for no other reason than I knew who Philip Glass was, via Errol Morris' The Thin Blue Line, seen on PBS when I was a teenager (another story for another time).
I don't think I was expecting to have the experience that I did. I thought I would be seeing a ninety-minute music video with some vague ecological message; what I got was a metaphorical trepanning. It's difficult to say exactly why it struck me so hard; I think that it was the fact that the music and visuals had been matched with such care and attention. Not in a gimmicky way, in the sense that every two-bit Fourth of July fireworks display is carefully timed so that it will climax when Lee Greenwood sings the last bit of "God Bless the U.S.A.", but in the sense that it's hard to tell whether Philip Glass was composing to the visuals, or Godfrey Reggio and Ron Fricke (the director and director of photography, respectively) were filming to the music. At least that's what I remember, that and so much of the evening visuals (the famous shot of the moon rising behind the skyscraper, the people walking the streets at night and staring out the camera, etc.)
Twenty years later, and under the influence of one of the Commonwealth of Kentucky's finer exports, I saw things completely differently. I now think that Reggio and Glass are often working at cross purposes in Koyaanisqatsi. For one thing, I've seen the "sequel," Powaqqatsi (which I remember as a depressing ode to how much happier the rich first world would be if we could just be more like the happy poor brown people, which is, honestly, a bull's byproduct). I have, so far, avoided the third film in the trilogy, Naqoyqatsi, and don't plan to view it until I retire to Appalachia to live in a small cabin and, possibly, smoke crazy amounts of pot. Anyway, it is apparent that Reggio definitely has an agenda with Koyaanisqatsi, and Glass doesn't. When Reggio shows buildings being blown up, and piles of rubble, and mushroom clouds, and casino waitresses in uniform being forced to stand still and smile like professionals for what seems like ten minutes (a bit that reminded me of Andy Warhol's films), just to make the point that "our" life "calls for another way of living," Glass' music is just as majestic, otherworldly and detached as when Reggio is showing clouds billowing at high speed and shadows flowing across desert canyons in the first "nature is great" part of the movie.
I suppose one could argue that this is because Glass' music is gimmicky and all sounds the same anyway, but I disagree with you on principle there, since I have enjoyed his music for twenty years and have no trouble telling one piece, or opus, apart from another. (Case in point: I've rewatched The Illusionist recently, and the music is so different from this that it's as if there's two different guys named Philip Glass out there composing soundtracks.) It's pretty clear to me that Glass, regardless of his personal feelings in the matter, was seeing images to compose to, and Reggio was seeing symbols of his, Reggio's, point of view.
So, you could, conceivably, see this movie as an ode to technology, rather than a warning against it. You might or might not make Godfrey Reggio grind his teeth (he actually seemed like a nice enough guy in the interview portion of the DVD), but I think it's one way to view this movie. It seems to me that this is because Glass' music doesn't care one way or the other, and this is what gives the movie its tension and its ambiguity and what makes it a memorable viewing experience. Well, that and the moon rising behind the skyscraper, which is still the most fantastic thing I've seen in a movie ever. (I remember some "oohs" from the audience the first time I saw it. Maybe you can do that with a computer program now, and it's not quite as impressive. It was to me.)
But is it a "great" film? A masterpiece? Don't ask me. I can't judge a masterpiece for crap, since I'll always prefer watching Blazing Saddles to whatever won the Oscar last year. (Although I will say that Ron Fricke had the Oscar stolen from him the year Koyaanisqatsi was released. I don't care what movie won best photography that year, it wasn't as good.) I do know that I'm going to check Amazon to see if Koyaanisqatsi is still available for less that one million dollars. You know, maybe I'll even see if Powaqqatsi is available from the library too. I've changed as well over twenty years, so you never know.
posted by The Surtsey Islander at 11:51 AM
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