Once I was home, I had it playing in the background while I busied myself with other chores and tasks. On the first glance, the movie bewildered me. It showed landscapes and cityscapes--no narration or apparent premise, just images and music. I knew it would be that way, given it's the same way Baraka is presented. But I kept wondering what the point of Koyaanisqatsi was and why should I care?
Then the ending happened--so startling and somber. The last title cards appeared to finally explain what the odd word Koyaanisqatsi means, and what the Hopi prophecies embedded in the music says. Then it all came together: life out of balance. The film showed the great rise of mankind's achievements, and warned of its potential downfall. All it took was a few key images, the right tone, and a select theme. Realizing the true depth and power of the film, I rewatched it immediately to let the entire experience soak in properly. I've since watched it three or four more times--the film still captivates me with its visual prowess, and it still staggers my mind with all it has to say. No other film stimulates thought or feeling the same way this one does--it is a stirring and cathartic experience that encapsulates human nature and sheds light on our world.
What Is It?
In short, Koyaanisqatsi is the Hopi term for "life out of balance." The film is a documentary that starts off showing still, peaceful nature, then transitions into human cityscapes where people work and play in a constant buzz of activity. The film uses some very long and nutty amounts of time-lapse photography and slow-motion to emphasize speed and drama. Collectively, the film shows a little bit of everything--men and machines, factory workers, cars, planes, entertainment, war, peace, demolition, construction, food supply, energy supply--to show how mankind has altered the Earth and turned it into an artificial place where life is truly out of balance.
There is no narration to point any specific detail out--it's totally up to the viewer to soak it all in and make their own conclusions. Some themes are pretty blatant, others not so much. Philip Glass composes the score--a very repetitive and rhythmic orchestration that accentuates the visuals and manages to be very hypnotic. The experience overall is cathartic and bittersweet--there are moments of grandeur to this film as there are somber moments. All together, the film suggests that mankind might be doomed in our current state of living continues the way it is.
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| Suffering. |
Inspirations
The film and its themes might elicit a "so what" response for some people, but for me a film can't get more important than this. It's one of very few films I've seen that captures something as it is and projects it in a way that underscores universal truths.
All that being said, I don't necessarily believe in the doom and gloom the film suggests. If for no other reason than the level of awareness that exists now--when the film was made, notions of climate change and our understanding of the food industry were never mainstream. These days, it's all we hear about. People are aware of our unbalanced lifestyles, and some people are taking a stand and working to make it better. With all the knowledge we have, I don't really believe mankind will explode like a rocket any time soon.
As a film, I admire it a lot for its craftsmanship, especially since it was made on such a low budget from a group of people who had nothing to do with Hollywood to begin with. It's 100% experimental. I don't even think the themes of the movie came together until much later in its production--the filmmakers simply captured what they could and assembled the structure later.
Additionally, I like the film for its imperfections. There are other documentaries (including sequels to this one) that are a little more polished and "perfect" in their presentation, but they never hit me as hard as Koyaanisqatsi. This film has an organic look and feeling to it--partly because of the 16mm and 35mm elements that gives it so much grit and texture (whereas Ron Fricke's Baraka and Samsara were made on such premium formats they look so perfect and clear--but they do miss out on texture because of that). The organic nature of the film extends to its style--it's not perfect. Some shots are so candid and plain-looking, they might look rather boring. Color schemes are equally drab. But then there are inventive shots where the camera gets pulled around in various ways--hanging off a helicopter, hand-held on the street, placed in a shopping cart. A lot of it was unplanned and nobody set out to film scenes with the forethought of a "koyaanisqatsi" theme. They simply filmed, and the ideas came together in editing. That's just how the creative process flows.
As Far As Writing Goes...
If you're writing non-fiction, this film can help show the structure of how to present a theme, then use examples to reinforce it, then conclude. That's pretty much what the film does--it opens and closes with a visual "thesis" in the form of shots of the Great Gallery. Then it goes into all the different scenes to collectively underscore this theme. Then the movie concludes with all the definitions. Many folks say this movie is a tone poem, but structurally it's not too far off from an essay. It just happens to be composed with images and no words.
When it comes to fiction and literature, this film can still be an inspiration. It shows everything and tells very little, especially on a grander thematic scale. The only clues viewers get concerning the movie's themes occur at the end and they remain rather cryptic. It is left up to the viewer to put the pieces together and come up with their own conclusions. And it was made that way on purpose. It's cobbled together to show certain things broadly, with a few recurring motifs, but nothing is explicitly explained to viewers. Writers can do the same thing with the same technique.
- Provide direction with few words, reinforce them with the action, images, and emotions of the story. It can be done effectively with all the usual "show don't tell" rules.
- Let the scenes and action speak for themselves.
- Avoid on-the-nose dialogue or narration.
- If you're writing with deep POV, use author voice as least as you can.
- Use action and active verbs to keep everything punchy and fast.
- Use motifs, metaphors, comparisons, contrast, and figurative language.
- The film repeats certain images to allow viewers to make connections--roads and rivers, construction and demolition, factories and street life, nature and cities, and so much more.
- Metaphors exist in the film--the rocket at the end is one, and it's an image that drives home the theme that human achievement will reach an apex before something catastrophic happens and declines. The rocket becomes humanity--in one minute, the entire movie is summarized without any narrator drawing attention to it.
- As potential exercises...
- Look at the people shown in the film. Look at their faces. Are they happy? If not, why could that be? If you look at the people--who they are, how are they dressed, what are they doing--you could draw conclusions about them. One one hand, it's an exercise in your imagination--you could question if they're suffering from drama or stress. You could draw up a whole backstory for a person if you wanted. This is also a good way to think about the "show don't tell" rules for characters--the only thing you get out of this movie are looks, physique, clothes, ages, races, and the way they carry themselves. How else could you fill in these characters, and what are the possible motivations for the way they act or express themselves?
- Think about how this film would be if there was a narration. Would you really like it if somebody like Morgan Freeman came along and explained everything you're already seeing on-screen? It's not really necessary, is it?
- That being said, what about a character voice? Imagine an off-screen character narrating--not explaining anything on-screen, but solely focusing on personal thoughts and feelings. Would this same movie work if it was structured like a Terrance Malick film (Tree of Life, The Thin Red Line, The New World, etc)?
As Far As Filming Goes...
I have a hobby: I film the places I've been. When I started in 2001, my videos were a mess--I spun around frantically trying to capture everything on tape, and I wound up getting fast, jerky, plain-looking shots that are rather hard to watch. But I always wanted to put music to it for that added oomph. I did this for the past 16 years, but thanks to Koyaanisqatsi and similar films, I started to look at these projects differently. I slowed down a lot over the years, preferring slow and steady pans and still shots over constant movement (even when I move, it helps to have a camera with an image stabilizer). Above all, I started toying with time-lapses, and I've been taking time-lapse shots like a fiend these days. On a newer camcorder with HD, you can make some very beautiful shots with clouds flowing over landscapes or behind buildings. Add nice music, and it becomes an experience to show off.
The film has also inspired me in the way I cut and edit video. I used to make videos in chunks, so I always faded them to black--these days I prefer to cut them into big 40 - 90 minute features with no breaks, and with the music tracks cross-fading, so it becomes a continuous flow. Because Koyaanisqatsi had a knack for fitting images together to spark thought over certain themes, I often find myself doing the same, trying to piece shots together in logical ways that could suggest one idea leading to another. My videos will always be mere travelogues--I don't think I could pull off anything as thematically meaty as Koyaanisqatsi without going out of the way to shoot very specific things. But it can create an impact even in the most mundane of video to put shots together in a structural way.
Soundtrack
Philip Glass' score can be an inspiration as well. Even though it becomes repetitive, each composition has rigid structure. Sometimes, it sounds somber--parts of the score sound funereal as with the organs and the deep "koyaanisqatsi" chant. It accentuates the movie somberly, but on its own it's just as disquieting. When the tempo picks up, the music goes through some radical ups and downs, with a lot of heavenly choir-like vocals. Orchestral strings, brass, and synthesizers gives the music a lot of oomph to melodies that are otherwise very simple. It's a hypnotic, mesmerizing score, but it also has enough crescendos to make it a powerful piece. I can easily see any writer latching onto this.
Home Video
For years, Koyaanisqatsi was out of print due to copyright issues. A DVD was put out by MGM in 2002--it's perfectly watch-able and sports a few extra features. Blu-Rays popped up in Germany and Australia, but my copy from the inspiration shelf is the Criterion Collection Blu-Ray (part of the Qatsi Trilogy box set). It has probably the best quality one could ask for out of this film--the stock footage won't hold up as well in high-def, but all the original 16mm and 35mm scenes look quite sharp and natural. There is a lot of fine film grain, but given the history of the film, that's to be expected. Sound quality is really nice. There is a plethora of extras worth diving into, including a demo version of the film as originally put together in 1977. If you're seeking out a copy of this film, the Criterion edition gets my hearty recommendation (yes, even as part of the trilogy, the whole box set is worth getting).
Additional Inspirations
This film yielded two sequels: Powaqqatsi and Naqoyqatsi. The former (meaning "life that consumes another life to survive") focuses on the third world and how its labor supports the first world countries. The latter (meaning "life at war") has more to do with technology, the Internet, and virtualization, and how it creates conflicts through its myriad of languages and barriers. Both these films are worth a look--Powaqqatsi is a gorgeous feature with plenty to contemplate. I'm not a fan of Naqoyqatsi, because it does look rather gaudy and weird, and it's a harder feature to comprehend, but it does have nuggets of interesting ideas and scenes.
Godfrey Reggio went on to make the film Visitors, which is a highly experimental piece. It's extremely slow in pace--there's only 70 or so shots in the movie, and they're all about one minute long or longer. Its point is to show how people become entranced by technology, and it does so by putting the viewer into the POV of technology (thus, portrait shots in the film stare directly into you).
Cinematographer Ron Fricke went on to direct his own films. Chronos is a nice, short documentary that showcases a lot of time-lapse scenes in and around Europe. Baraka is a must--thematically, it's all about spirituality and human connections across multiple cultures and continents. It is a film that shows a lot of places and cultures I'll probably never see in my lifetime, and that alone makes it a must. Shot in 70mm with lovely time-lapses and slow-motion, it's also a beautiful film. Samsara is another film of similar quality--also shot on larger film formats, it looks striking and highly-detailed. It's described as a guided meditation--I've personally found that the film explores a lot of issues concerning the human form and how people in many cultures alter their bodies or make caricatures in their likeness.
There are few other films these guys have made that I haven't seen yet. All of these are pretty phenomenal and deserve to be watched at least once.
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