Koyaanisqatsi (1982) by Godfrey Reggio - a review

Koyaanisqatsi (1982) by Godfrey Reggio

Hello to everyone and anyone that is currently reading this! I finally had time to watch a film after a semi hectic semester ε-(´・｀) ﾌ  and since my next semester I will be diving into documentary filmmaking, my boyfriend showed/introduced me to this experimental film/documentary !!

Background

So to keep it simple, the film/documentary is a non narrative film with no conventional plot. A compilation of footages being played in reverse that we as a viewer have to interpret. 

Analysis/Study

Koyaanisqatsi feels less like a film and more like a meditation — an essay in moving images. If you strip everything down, it all begins with light and shadow. From there, the film moves in cycles, like a timeline of existence:

1. Light & shadow → the beginning
   
   

2. Sky/air & water → the birth of life
   
   

3. Rocks & land → the grounding and progression of life
   
   

And then comes us — humanity. We step in, we take from the land, and we start bending nature into our own shapes. Factories, dams, artificial lakes, cities. At first it’s integration, but soon it turns into domination. We impose “order,” first through military power, then through technology and infrastructure. War destroys balance, so we chase stability by constructing a false sense of nature:

• tunnels = caves
  
  

• roads = ancient paths
  
  

• electric lights = the sun
  
  

It’s familiar, but not the same.

The film lingers on consumerism and spectacle — billboards, ads, entertainment, TV screens. A fake kind of enlightenment that distracts us from what we’ve lost. Then there’s that unforgettable visual metaphor: sprawling cityscapes compared to motherboards and circuits. Humanity itself reduced to technology, or maybe technology imitating humanity. Either way, the line blurs.

At the core of the film is a constant question: do we control machines, or do machines control us? We’ve created them, but now they structure our days, shape our societies, even dictate our choices. The irony is that we could live without them — life existed before electricity, before cars, before skyscrapers — but now dependence feels inevitable.

What struck me most is how much of the film focuses on what came before — the land, the water, human faces, simple existence — compared to the final act of collapse. The rocket, the aftermath, the destruction take up far less time. Maybe that’s the point: to remind us of what was originally given, compared to what we’ve built in its place. The comparison shots drive this home — streams of people against streams of water, cars moving like ants, subways like veins, assembly lines mimicking human bodies. Everything natural has a mechanical counterpart, but never an equal.

So are we really progressing? Or are we destroying? Maybe both. Maybe “progress” is just the name we’ve given to destruction when it happens slowly enough.

Koyaanisqatsi doesn’t give easy answers. Instead, it unsettles, hypnotizes, and confronts you with images that feel both familiar and alien. It’s not about a story, but about perspective. And when the film ends, you’re left with the uncomfortable thought: maybe we aren’t moving forward at all. Maybe we’re just running in circles, pretending we’re machines.