Decasia (2002)--3/5

The striking "Decasia" would look amazing projected behind a local band at Carabar. The real draw here is Michael Gordon's symphony of the same name, created in tandem with the visuals. It starts out with a provocative grinding and pitch-shifting, settles comfortably into a Philip Glass-esque staccato, before wowing with an extended post-rock freakout. That initial grinding sound comes from rusted brake drums as percussion instruments. In every way, they're a perfect choice for "Decasia"--found, decaying objects contributing to an otherworldly ambience.

"Decasia," as I learned after I watched it, is trying to examine recorded life as the film it's on disintegrates. It's a spooky idea, borne out in the mostly pre-1935 found footage on display. People long-dead exist tenuously on rotting celluloid piled in dingy storerooms.

Much of the film is over-decayed by the director Bill Morrison. For some reason, I'm okay with splicing and overlaying *found* cracked, melted, or otherwise decrepit film on the already declining images. Morrison often takes it too far, pixellating and reversing the film with a computer. The less-authentic decay is disrespectful to the films' subjects and it prevents the art from making a solid statement.

"Decasia" would also work well on a wall of the Wexner Center, seen in short bursts by passers-by.