Like any Stan Brakhage you may or may not have seen, New York-based filmmaker and artist Bill Morrison’s Decasia is uncompromising, difficult, and unbearably beautiful. The director’s camera travels through a cavernous film lab, revealing a faceless individual pulling a strip of celluloid from developing fluid. There are three stories here: that of the archival footage, its layer of emulsion deterioration, and their combined effect.
Decasia is a work of suggestive genius, its narrative open to interpretation. The first half might as well be the hallucination of a Middle Eastern man whose native tradition causes him to spin before a group of fellow tribesmen. The decay of the celluloid—which resembles everything from butterflies and leaves to sponges and the ridges of the human brain—becomes a stunning complement to the archival footage. The film is so hypnotically ephemeral and grandiose that its seamless linkage of sound to image suggests a spiritual presence.
The Bang on a Can score pulsates with a quasi-techno groove that heightens the gravitas of the film’s archival footage. And just as Decasia seems to wind down, it begins again: a child is pulled from the womb, a boy (possibly the newborn’s older incarnation) rides a bus, a woman (possibly his mother) burns her body fat inside a beauty salon’s sweat chamber.
The grainy, monochromatic images of children inside convents and planes unleashing care packages conjure images of war. Like the phoenix, the planes from a carnival ride seem to originate from the flame-like celluloid decay. Then, a woman wearing a flowery kimono is knocked out—or awakened, it doesn’t matter. Per its title, Morrison’s film is very much about the state of decay, but more specifically, it’s about the birth, death, and rebirth of physicality itself.
Since 2001, we've brought you uncompromising, candid takes on the world of film, music, television, video games, theater, and more. Independently owned and operated publications like Slant have been hit hard in recent years, but we’re committed to keeping our content free and accessible—meaning no paywalls or fees.
If you like what we do, please consider subscribing to our Patreon or making a donation.