Duration: 74 min
Language: English

"I popped Morrison's video into my VCR and within a few further minutes, I found myself completely absorbed, transfixed, dumbstruck, a pillow of air lodged in my stilled open mouth, which I don't think I thereupon managed to close for the next seventy minutes." - Lawrence Weschler, New York Times Magazine, 12/22/02
"A pure poetry of deliquescence. The images are at once haunting, mysterious and incredibly beautiful. A definitive work of art. And a new kind of documentary. A documentary documenting the decay of itself." - Errol Morris, filmmaker
"This radical, experimental masterwork feels like the first film, and feels like the last film." - Andrew Lewis Conn, Time Out New York, 3/27/03
"Bill Morrison's extraordinarily mesmerizing 'Decasia' is a stunningly beautiful... ode to creation and decay." - Shari Frilot, catalog notes for the Sundance Film Festival
"A hallucinatory canvas of images... succeeds as a pure exercise in visual stimulus, its narcotic effect much amplified by Michael Gordon's thunderous, dissonant orchestral score." - Dennis Harvey, Variety
"Compelling and disturbing! Swimming symphonies of baroque beauty emerge from corrosive nitrate disintegration as rockets of annihilation demolish cathedrals of reality." - Kenneth Anger, filmmaker
"Unbearably beautiful. It's a work of suggestive genius." - Ed Gonzalez, Slant Magazine
"The majestic Decasia... stunning work... an ecstatic gesture." - Steven Seid, Pacific Film Archives curator, from the catalog notes for the 45th San Francisco International Film Festival
"A work of nihilistic energy and harsh, uncompromising beauty, capable of sustaining multiple readings and interpretations. It is, in short, a work of real art. There are precedents for this sort of thing but nothing remotely of this scale, much less power. The final coup is a genuinely transformative and unforgettable experience." - Shane Danielsen, 56th Edinburgh International Film Festival
Esta é a Cidade, e é bela.
Pela ocular da janela
foco o sémen da rua.
Um formigueiro se agita,
se esgueira, freme, crepita,
ziguezagueia e flutua.
Freme como a sede bebe
numa avidez de garganta,
como um cavalo se espanta
ou como um ventre concebe.
Treme e freme, freme e treme,
friorento voo de libélula
sobre o charco imundo e estreme.
Barco de incógnito leme
cada homem, cada célula.
É como um tecido orgânico
que não seca nem coagula,
que a si mesmo se estimula
e vai, num medido pânico.
Aperfeiçoo a focagem.
Olho imagem por imagem
numa comoção crescente.
Enchem-se-me os olhos de água.
Tanto sonho! Tanta mágoa!
Tanta coisa! Tanta gente!
São automóveis, lambretas,
motos, vespas, bicicletas,
carros, carrinhos, carretas,
e gente, sempre mais gente,
gente, gente, gente, gente,
num tumulto permanente
que não cansa nem descança,
um rio que no mar se lança
em caudalosa corrente.
Tanto sonho! Tanta esperança!
Tanta mágoa! Tanta gente!
António Gedeão