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This visionary film, directed by Godfrey Reggio with musical
accompaniment composed by the esteemed Phillip Glass, drew a far hipper crowd
than that which usually graces the tiers of Davies Symphony hall in downtown
San Francisco. The occasional blond dreadlocks, stretched earlobes, tight
pants, and shoes with pointy toes replaced the customary black ties. The
general timbre of the audience seemed not to meet the expectation of
formality that this prestigious hall typically hosts. The liberal alternative
San Franciscan rises from the woodwork to attend the formal display of films
that have lived in their memories through the mists of the intoxicated
past.
Powaqqatsi, "Life in Transformation," the second installment of
the Qatsi trilogy, consists of one long montage of emotionally stimulating
footage of human toil and endeavor. Plotless and scriptless, the film
consists of a myriad of images of human construction all over the world
spliced all together in a semi-coherent sequence. From sweeping city
skylines, to arduous manual labor, to sacred religious ceremonies, to
impoverished children, to funereal processions, this film attempts to
visually span the breadth of the human journey.
But the images themselves would not have amounted to what they did
without the throbbing auditory backdrop. Glass organized an eclectic ensemble
including four keyboards, horns galore, and a middle-eastern cantor. His
pulsing melodies are somewhat repetitive at times, but the escalating
repetition of uplifting rips and cadences works in the context of the rhythms
and vibratos of life that the film tries to capture. I found Glass'
repertoire to be lacking in terms of percussion. I thought that he could have
more accurately captured the beat of the human struggle with heavier bass and
more time spent on the snare. I also found there was too much build up and
not enough climax. It felt as if the tempo and volume would increase and then
just die down without reaching the epic paroxysm that it so falsely
promised. However these flaws were minor in contrast to the excellence of the
general whole.
Overall I found this to be an immensely inspiring experience,
disregarding the somewhat disappointing music. I found myself almost moved to
tears by images as mundane as a Vietnamese farmer carrying a bundle of sticks
across a river. The visual overload awakened sentiments of both joy and
sorrow within me. The images constantly reminded me of the absurd brevity and
fruitless, yet meaningful, striving of the human condition. My friend and
I emerged from the auditorium in silence, breathless. It took us several
minutes to regain speech, and when we did we remained speechless. There was
not that much more to be said although nothing had been said at all.
Powaqqatsi makes a very worthy attempt at the insurmountable task of
encapsulating the human experience, as a whole, through the eyes of music and
cinema.
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