There are much better films out there that function as meditations on the flow of time and people and things. Some have plots, some mere hints of plots, and others none at all. The experience of viewing these films is akin to looking at a painting or contemplating the subtle changes in nature.
Unfortunately, Koyaanisqatsi just does not quite make it. In places where it should allow the natural (and accidental) beauty of a subject to come through, it instead uses pointed repetition to preach a one-dimensional message. If it encounters an interesting subject it lingers on far too long. Please note that I have a lot of patience with meditative art, being a longtime fan of Wim Wenders, the composer Morton Feldman, and the painter Robert Ryman. I can handle art that explores deeper and deeper, examining the hidden and bringing to light details that no one ever has seen, often including the artist (see John Cage's works on the process of art as a process of exploration for both audience and author). But Koyaanisqatsi finds a scene of moderate interest and hammers on it until there is nothing left to see in it, and KEEPS ON GOING. So much for subtle variation.
Overall, Koyaanisqatsi comes across as a spoof of minimalist excess. It's like the minimalist painting that REALLY IS just a white canvas. This mind-numbing effect is reinforced by the relentless music of neo-banalist Phil Glass. Meaningless harmonic structures, crudely stitched together, repeating over and over, proclaiming the composer's incompetence at every pseudo-cadence.
This is maybe a good movie for pot-head hippies or maybe for teenagers trying to find some meaning in the many superficial contradictions in the world. Perhaps it can be a way to wean American youth away from too much Chuck Norris. But maybe it really isn't any better for them than Chuck Norris.
Unfortunately, Koyaanisqatsi just does not quite make it. In places where it should allow the natural (and accidental) beauty of a subject to come through, it instead uses pointed repetition to preach a one-dimensional message. If it encounters an interesting subject it lingers on far too long. Please note that I have a lot of patience with meditative art, being a longtime fan of Wim Wenders, the composer Morton Feldman, and the painter Robert Ryman. I can handle art that explores deeper and deeper, examining the hidden and bringing to light details that no one ever has seen, often including the artist (see John Cage's works on the process of art as a process of exploration for both audience and author). But Koyaanisqatsi finds a scene of moderate interest and hammers on it until there is nothing left to see in it, and KEEPS ON GOING. So much for subtle variation.
Overall, Koyaanisqatsi comes across as a spoof of minimalist excess. It's like the minimalist painting that REALLY IS just a white canvas. This mind-numbing effect is reinforced by the relentless music of neo-banalist Phil Glass. Meaningless harmonic structures, crudely stitched together, repeating over and over, proclaiming the composer's incompetence at every pseudo-cadence.
This is maybe a good movie for pot-head hippies or maybe for teenagers trying to find some meaning in the many superficial contradictions in the world. Perhaps it can be a way to wean American youth away from too much Chuck Norris. But maybe it really isn't any better for them than Chuck Norris.