On one level the film is a kind of Rorschach test in which the decaying images become animated inkblots, open to whatever identifications the spectator chooses to impose on them, from garden gnomes to genitals. On another, the film provides a kind of “2001” psychedelia, a rush of abstract images linked to the trance-inducing drone of Mr. Gordon’s score.
A more wise and poignant Koyaanisqatsi (in technique, not theme), often very fine though I wish avant-gardists were a tiny bit better about finding dramatic structure, not just crafting yet another cool image. Only when the camels reappeared (going in the opposite direction) did I infer that the film was about to end, otherwise it might've gone all night.
Decasia represented an epiphany of sorts: an epic-scale assemblage of disparate material unified both by Michael Gordon's quasi-symphonic score and by the foregrounding of nitrate damage. You couldn't isolate or define an overall meaning, but the beautiful terrible decay somehow meshes with the innate poignancy of old film images... to create a powerful awareness of the transience of all things.