Decasia

Decasia is an unconventional and intriguing film released in 2002. The film bypasses the usual simple narratives or linear storylines typical in the mainstream cinematic sphere in favor of an experimental and abstract approach. Directed by Bill Morrison, this unique piece of art thrives in the poetic realm of visual imagery and finds its voice in non-dialogued narratives with silent film actors Tsuru Aoki, Julia Calhoun and Margaret Cullington adding layers to its enigmatic appeal.

Decasia, as a striking experimental documentary, celebrates the art of decomposition of film itself. It presents a world where everything is decomposing and uses decaying, century-old archival footage to paint a portrait of existential entropy. The degraded celluloid seems to mirror the inevitable decay found in nature and humanity. In less than an hour and a half, the film offers its audience a powerful meditation time, enveloping them into a surreal experience between past, present, and future.

The movie is put together from different snippets of films from the early 20th century, carefully selected by the director himself. These films- some damaged, some torn apart, eroded by time and elements- paint an eloquent picture of impermanence and decay. They come together to form an orchestra that speaks volumes without a single word. It integrates several themes such as beauty, death, transformation, and the passage of time into a compelling cinematic experience.

Morrison's eye-catching and thoughtful selection ranges from simple scenes of everyday life and nature to more complex and profound themes like religion, war, and death. These fragments are artfully layered and sequenced to create a fluid narrative that dives into a poetic exploration of life and mortality. What makes the scenes even more heart-wrenching and riveting is the habitual flawlessness of the film medium, revealing itself in the form of blotches, scratches, and disruptions.

Tsuru Aoki, Julia Calhoun, and Margaret Cullington, though not physically present, ingeniously ‘star’ in the film via the archival reels. Their spectral and ghost-like appearances accentuated by the disintegration of the film over time add an otherworldly aura to the entire experience.

The film's relentless visuals are further enhanced by an original modern classical score by composer Michael Gordon. The score beautifully complements the whirlwind of images flashing on screen and helps to create an ambiance of existential introspection and almost hypnotic trance. It aids in carrying the viewer along the gripping waves of destruction and rebirth.

One of the most captivating aspects of Decasia is its ability to ignite imagination and invoke interpretation. Viewers are compelled to connect the loose threads and interpret the film in their unique way. Some might perceive it as a terrifying exhibit of our mortality and temporal nature, while others might interpret it as a testament to the beauty of decay and the renewal it brings about. This is where the film excels, giving the viewer a subliminal prompting to grapple with existential questions.

The brilliance of Decasia lies in how it uses the physical attributes of the film medium to communicate simple yet profound philosophical thoughts about human existence and mortality. It sheds light on the tremendous beauty that lies within the process of decay and change and dovetails this idea perfectly with the idea of a cyclical process of life.

Decasia is not your conventional movie experience. It is an unusual tapestry of sounds and visuals that construct an unforgettable examination of our transient existence. By de-familiarizing the audience with the common narrative devices, it forces us to consider the nature of cinema and reality itself. This film is a must-watch for those who are willing to embark on an unconventional journey into the heart of existentialism.