Koyaanisqatsi

Released in 1982, Koyaanisqatsi is a wordless montage of contemporary America, set to a soundtrack by Philip Glass. At the time it was a dazzling feat of editing, a game played with time and stock footage. This year Glass and his ensemble accompany it live on stage at the Edinburgh International Festival.

As ever, the film takes a while to get going. The opening shots of desert mesa were impressive to an American audience unfamiliar with David Attenborough, but are quite dull now. It’s only when we messy, funny humans turn up—along with our intricate machines—that things hit their stride. Koyaanisqatsi shows the astonishing beauty of our concrete world.

Indeed, this live production benefits from the human touch. The musicians are less perfect than on the film’s soundtrack, but also less mechanistic. They find the rhythms in the footage far more effectively than the original.

Having the orchestra on-stage changes the dynamic between visuals and music. Conductor Michael Riesman sits facing the enormous screen, back to the audience, like he’s the sorcerer’s apprentice summoning the wondrous images. Glass mans a piano himself, although he does conspicuously little playing. Nevertheless, the result is mesmeric: fractal patterns of life perfectly matched by Glass’s repetitive, reeling music.

"Koyaanisqatsi" is a cod Hopi word, meant as a warning about mankind harming the environment. However, that has never been the true spirit of the film. It makes us, and the complicated lives we live together, too attractive. This vital performance drives that point home like never before.

This was a one-off performance, but the sequels Powaqqatsi and Naqoyqatsi will be performed across the next two nights