When Godfrey Reggio's "Koyaanisqatsi" first appeared in 1983, it was instantly hailed as a revolutionary film. Two decades on, it remains so. With the exception of 1994's "Baraka," by "Koyaanisqatsi" cinematographer Ron Fricke, virtually no other filmmaker has tapped the potential it opened up.

With "Koyaanisqatsi," Reggio dared to imagine a film without dialogue, where image and music alone could combine in a new kind of symphony. Reggio uses haunting slow-motion and time-lapse cinematography to create a profound sensation of majesty and awe. In shots that cut from pristine desert vistas and tranquil cloud-filled skies to endless urban sprawl and relentless industrial processes, Reggio says nothing while speaking volumes. It's as if the viewer is seeing everything through the eye of God, slowly taking in what had befallen the planet.

Philip Glass' pulsating arpeggios and meditative, trancelike compositions -- often a bit austere on their own -- are the perfect accompaniment, flowing like a current that propels the viewer through this journey of extreme contrasts.