Rating: 
Summary: fascinating & hypnotic !
Review: a film about how film dies and forgotten memories.
Nothing lasts forever...What is Decasia? A quite strange experimental film mainly composed of partially decayed vintage film footages. Maybe Decasia can also be seen as the total antithesis of Tornatore's Cinema Paradiso. In other words Bill Morrison's Decasia isn't a joyful hommage to cinema...Instead,Decasia mourns the tragedies of our past, the innevitable deterioration of film and life itself through the esthetics of decaying celluloid. I personally think that there's something deeply depressing about this film.Not because it reminds us of our own mortality (as far as I'm concerned, death is nothing more than a continuation of an everlasting atemporal cycle which I'm a part of. And there's nothing I can do about it.)..But because of the fragileness of memories,history and individuals. For some strange reason, the unjovial music of this film (composed by Michael Gordon) reminded me of something reminiscent of the 'Climax Golden Twins'style(session 9) , only more orchestrated.
Rating:
Summary: This is outstanding
Review: Although this will remind you of Begotten if you have seen that film, I found this to be much more intriguing than that film (which was very uneven, soaring high while occasionally bordering on tedious). The film also reminded me of Koyaanisquatsi and, believe it or not, some of the psychadelic sequences in Yellow Submarine! The soundtrack (it's very Phillip Glass) and the slow-motion effects are what are reminiscent of Koyaanisquatsi. Some of the sequences almost seem animated in the style of Yellow Submarine, looking as if they were animated pencil art you were watching (also reminded me of Bill Plympton's animated style). The images include amuzement park rides, miners pulling dead/injured workers from a mine shaft, a lakeside baptism, big city life, children being led through a monastary, etc. At 67 minutes long, it doesn't go on forever and those 67 minutes flew by for me. This is definitely not everyone's cup of tea, but if you appreciate unusual cinema, this hits the spot square on. It's hypnotic and captivating on many levels.
Rating:
Summary: abstract death march
Review: DECASIA: THE STATE OF DECAY (Plexifilm), an experimental art film by Bill Morrison is edited entirely from bits and pieces of decomposed film found in neglected archives. Hallucinatory and haunting, the damaged images of places, people and events from times past are strange and out-of-context, but the brain tries to makes sense of them and the result is like a waking dream. Michale Gordon's innovative soundtrack of detuned instruments adds to the weird Dervish dance of dissolution.
Rating: 
Summary: DEAD IMAGES DANCE
Review: DECASIA: THE STATE OF DECAY (Plexifilm), an experimental art film by Bill Morrison is edited entirely from bits and pieces of decomposed film found in neglected archives. Hallucinatory and haunting, the damaged images of places, people and events from times past are strange and out-of-context, but the brain tries to makes sense of them and the result is like a waking dream. Michale Gordon's innovative soundtrack of detuned instruments adds to the weird Dervish dance of dissolution.
Rating:
Summary: abstract death march
Review: I came across this by chance and was blown away by its
somber tone, the dissolving images. Sensitive viewers might
come away depressed by the haunting soundtrack and images destroyed by nitrate or warped by heat. There's a sense of loss
here that reminds me of old buildings, forgotten cities, childhoods lived among dusty, deserted streets. This is a treat for any lover of art, painting, music, life.
Rating:
Summary: Decay as a tone poem
Review: I just finished watching Decasia....and it had to have been one of the most visceral experiences I've ever had watching a film. Absolutely amazing. I can't recommend it enough, and why this film isn't already a classic, I'll never know. The film was made by Bill Morrison, but he didn't shoot a frame of it. Let me explain: essentially, the film is an assemblage of various bits of archival footage all in various states of decay. It's like looking into an Egyptian tomb: where did these fragments come from, what do they mean, how old are they? The reoccurring image is a slowly twirling Sufi dancer; he seems to be the conceptual thread throughout the work, and the film begins on him. Then we're shown clips of what is probably the least damaged fragments: film being run through projectors. But I will quit explaining the film; words don't do it justice, it's a film to be experienced. It works on many different levels, and it's abstract nature lends itself to any interpretations. While the surface deterioration works almost on a level of Stan Brakhage's films at times, the photographed images that remain on the film despite its damage are what gives the films its raw power. It is almost a testament to film itself: do the images we capture on film transcend the medium itself? At the same time however, it also is a reflection on the mortality of film, and the images and art we produce on it are mortal, just like humans. To me the film worked best as a sort of "tone poem" on human existence, and mortality. As J. Hoberman noted, "the film is a fierce dance of destruction." It is apocalyptic at times, at others times bittersweet, a tribute to things long lost, and a universe of emotions in between. It was reminded of a film I saw as a freshman in college; a grad student above me was attempting to make films that would put his audience into a trance, and this film certainly works on that level as well. There were several times where I felt as if I was meditating and had to consciously return to my body (this is not a joke, there's even a seizure warning on the DVD case) Addressing a oft-cited critique of the film, the editing isn't arbitrary at all. In fact, I found that certain scenes seemed to "give birth" to the one the follows it. Certain segments of the films also seem to have some sort of conceptual thread (i.e. birth, death, loneliness, love, etc.) The archival footage isn't assembled together in any order, Morrison seems to have taken care in which footage to include and what order to present it in. Also, accompanying this imagery is one of the most impressive scores I have heard. The composer, Michael Gordon, deserves just as much praise as Morrison himself. Using detuned and non-traditional instruments, Gordon creates the perfect companion to the hallucinatory imagery. His score is transcendent, industrial, and organic all at the same time. I would highly recommend this film to fans of the avant garde, or those with a mind open to cinematic meditation. I loved the other two films I saw on the Plexifilm label (Style Wars and Wilco's I Am Trying to Break Your Heart) but this is by far the best of the three, which is saying a lot. Plexifilm looks to be primed to be a superior DVD label in its output so far, and kudos to them...I look forward to future releases.
Rating: 
Summary: Cycling 74
Review: If the music and warped images of this DVD interst you and you're technically inclined take a look at Cycling 74's MAX/MSP & Jitter software and get into a little DIY Decasia.
http://www.cycling74.com/
Rating:
Summary: Haunting
Review: This film is quite haunting. It brought images to my sub-conscious of dream sequences only thought of by those that have passed. A determined process of decay, as thought by the mood and the peoples photographed so long ago.
Images of those people no longer here, as their images fade into nothingness, just as those that remember them, die to time.
Extremely thought provoking, and noting the need to treasure our heritage and preserve all film works from our past.
Rating:
Summary: visually fascinating, and spiritually moving
Review: This is a beautiful film. It is not a narrative movie, and has no plot structure at all. I first came across it by accident, while flipping through channels late at night, and became completely entranced. It is like looking at a fascinating, kinetic, abstract painting set to music. What director and editor Bill Morrison has done is create an hour-long meditation on life and death, using found, early 20th Century filmed images on decayed film stock- and uses the effects of the decay itself as a medium to convey a sense of passing, of loss, to the images that someone at some time felt were worth recording. This visual approach is accentuated by the soundtrack, a sometimes haunting, sometimes throbbing symphony by Micheal Gordon, which never pauses between movements, but constantly evolves- some parts fade in while others fade out. This constant change adds to the overall feeling of impermanence that the film so well imparts. There is a tremendous variety of images, and they are by no means all sad- whirling dervishes, geisha, nature shots, a birth (by C-section), a mine rescue, many scenes from silent movies; pillar-like nuns watching over a line of slowly marching, uniformed, Native-American students in some Southwestern convent school (this segment has a very creepy feel to it). The level of decay varies from scene to scene, flashing interference across the screen, sometimes making the film look almost like a negative, and sometimes taking a while for the image to become discernable. My favorite segment is a very long, slow shot of a distant airplane taking off and unloading a string of parachuters in the air, the camera slowly following them all the way to the ground. The soundtrack has evolved into a single, pulsating electric guitar, and the decay in the film has caused the empty sky to be a constantly changing, abstract field. It is hypnotic and beautiful. I found the entire film hypnotic. Its message is that of transience, and the deterioration of the physical film itself is why it works so brilliantly. It feels somewhat Buddhistic, but no particular religion at all is espoused, just change, and loss. The sense of history- not only has the film been decomposed by time, but the images are so obviously from a distant era, and the technology itself so outdated- adds to this. There is a sadness to it, without being depressing. I was also struck by the connections between chance and desicion in the making of the film. I found the overlapping of the random elements- the segments he happened to find, and the uncontrollable visual patterns of decay- with the control he exerted in their selection and sequencing and editing with the soundtrack, to be quite fascinating as art. These elements of chance combined with themes of change added another layer of complexity and meaning to the work, for me at least. I was reminded of a book titled "Dice" by photographer Rosamond Purcell and Ricky Jay, who has written many books on gambling and magic, and has collected thousands of dice over the years. The older, celluloid dice in his collection had begun to decay in wildly unpredictable ways, so he invited Purcell to photograph them. The result is their book of close-up still-lifes of the rotting and collapsing dice, with essays by Jay on dice, gambling, and chance in general. A small, poetic, statement on a much smaller scale than Mr. Morrison's beautiful film, but somewhat in the same vein. This film is not really for everyone. My wife, who said it reminded her of the world without her glasses, greatly admired the concept and intention, but found actually watching the movie a little "head-achey". I myself was thrilled when it became available on DVD. I find it to be not only technically, and musically fascinating, but spiritually moving, as well.
Rating:
Summary: visually fascinating, and spiritually moving
Review: This is a beautiful film. It is not a narrative movie, and has no plot structure at all. I first came across it by accident, while flipping through channels late at night, and became completely entranced. It is like looking at a fascinating, kinetic, abstract painting set to music. What director and editor Bill Morrison has done is create an hour-long meditation on life and death, using found, early 20th Century filmed images on decayed film stock- and uses the effects of the decay itself as a medium to convey a sense of passing, of loss, to the images that someone at some time felt were worth recording. This visual approach is accentuated by the soundtrack, a sometimes haunting, sometimes throbbing symphony by Micheal Gordon, which never pauses between movements, but constantly evolves- some parts fade in while others fade out. This constant change adds to the overall feeling of impermanence that the film so well imparts. There is a tremendous variety of images, and they are by no means all sad- whirling dervishes, geisha, nature shots, a birth (by C-section), a mine rescue, many scenes from silent movies; pillar-like nuns watching over a line of slowly marching, uniformed, Native-American students in some Southwestern convent school (this segment has a very creepy feel to it). The level of decay varies from scene to scene, flashing interference across the screen, sometimes making the film look almost like a negative, and sometimes taking a while for the image to become discernable. My favorite segment is a very long, slow shot of a distant airplane taking off and unloading a string of parachuters in the air, the camera slowly following them all the way to the ground. The soundtrack has evolved into a single, pulsating electric guitar, and the decay in the film has caused the empty sky to be a constantly changing, abstract field. It is hypnotic and beautiful. I found the entire film hypnotic. Its message is that of transience, and the deterioration of the physical film itself is why it works so brilliantly. It feels somewhat Buddhistic, but no particular religion at all is espoused, just change, and loss. The sense of history- not only has the film been decomposed by time, but the images are so obviously from a distant era, and the technology itself so outdated- adds to this. There is a sadness to it, without being depressing. I was also struck by the connections between chance and desicion in the making of the film. I found the overlapping of the random elements- the segments he happened to find, and the uncontrollable visual patterns of decay- with the control he exerted in their selection and sequencing and editing with the soundtrack, to be quite fascinating as art. These elements of chance combined with themes of change added another layer of complexity and meaning to the work, for me at least. I was reminded of a book titled "Dice" by photographer Rosamond Purcell and Ricky Jay, who has written many books on gambling and magic, and has collected thousands of dice over the years. The older, celluloid dice in his collection had begun to decay in wildly unpredictable ways, so he invited Purcell to photograph them. The result is their book of close-up still-lifes of the rotting and collapsing dice, with essays by Jay on dice, gambling, and chance in general. A small, poetic, statement on a much smaller scale than Mr. Morrison's beautiful film, but somewhat in the same vein. This film is not really for everyone. My wife, who said it reminded her of the world without her glasses, greatly admired the concept and intention, but found actually watching the movie a little "head-achey". I myself was thrilled when it became available on DVD. I find it to be not only technically, and musically fascinating, but spiritually moving, as well.
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