Blade Runner (1982)
“It's too bad she won't live! But then again, who does?” – Gaff speaking about the fate of Deckard’s love interest
This quote establishes the prevalent tone of the film which constantly asks the question: what does it mean to be human? The story involves outlawed artificially-created humanoids (Replicants) that are hiding out in a futuristic Los Angeles. Like most Ridley Scott films, Blade Runner is a visual feast. Almost every shot manipulates exquisite palettes of rich dark colors in a convincingly dystopic environment that borrows, to a small degree, from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. The special effects, which are entirely practical, still possess the power to astound and amaze. I am floored every time I watch the flying police cruiser sail pass the gargantuan smoke stacks which have clearly caused irreparable damage to the Los Angeles skyline, or when the cruiser passes by the skyscraper-sized video billboard that is advertising an all-too-familiar product. From a mere technical standpoint, the film is a monumental achievement.
There is minimal dialogue (especially in the director’s cut which omits Harrison Ford’s unnecessary voice-over work), but the dialogue that remains is witty, and often poetically cryptic, requiring the audience to ponder pieces of dialogue long after they are spoken. That is not to say that the dialogue is confusing: to the contrary, the script is full of philosophy that truly intrigues and excites. And the story contains so much depth and so much debate that most of it can be missed amongst the ever impressive city skyline. I have watched the film at least a dozen times and I still learn something new every time. Now that is a great film.
The film’s most moving moment comes near its conclusion, when the hunted replicant, Roy Batty, decides to save the life of Rick Deckard, the blade runner tasked with retiring him. Batty is only seconds from death: his artificial body has come to the end of its manufacturer’s designated life-span. Batty realizes that once he dies, his memories and experiences will disappear with him. All that he can leave in the world are the choices that he makes and influences he has had on others. So he decides to save a human life, not take it. This is the choice, the film suggests, this is the kind of empathetic understanding that makes humanity so unique. So in the final minutes proceeding this incident, Deckard decides to take a risk and run away with the woman he loves regardless of the fact that she is not human and may only have a few months to live. Deckard’s true origins are also questioned when he finds an origami unicorn, reminiscent of the one he secretly dreams about, left behind by a mysterious man who clearly knows something about Deckard we don’t. But it doesn’t really matter if Deckard is human because, in the end, he has made a choice that is unmistakably human.
“It's too bad she won't live! But then again, who does?” – Gaff speaking about the fate of Deckard’s love interest
This quote establishes the prevalent tone of the film which constantly asks the question: what does it mean to be human? The story involves outlawed artificially-created humanoids (Replicants) that are hiding out in a futuristic Los Angeles. Like most Ridley Scott films, Blade Runner is a visual feast. Almost every shot manipulates exquisite palettes of rich dark colors in a convincingly dystopic environment that borrows, to a small degree, from Fritz Lang’s Metropolis. The special effects, which are entirely practical, still possess the power to astound and amaze. I am floored every time I watch the flying police cruiser sail pass the gargantuan smoke stacks which have clearly caused irreparable damage to the Los Angeles skyline, or when the cruiser passes by the skyscraper-sized video billboard that is advertising an all-too-familiar product. From a mere technical standpoint, the film is a monumental achievement.
There is minimal dialogue (especially in the director’s cut which omits Harrison Ford’s unnecessary voice-over work), but the dialogue that remains is witty, and often poetically cryptic, requiring the audience to ponder pieces of dialogue long after they are spoken. That is not to say that the dialogue is confusing: to the contrary, the script is full of philosophy that truly intrigues and excites. And the story contains so much depth and so much debate that most of it can be missed amongst the ever impressive city skyline. I have watched the film at least a dozen times and I still learn something new every time. Now that is a great film.
The film’s most moving moment comes near its conclusion, when the hunted replicant, Roy Batty, decides to save the life of Rick Deckard, the blade runner tasked with retiring him. Batty is only seconds from death: his artificial body has come to the end of its manufacturer’s designated life-span. Batty realizes that once he dies, his memories and experiences will disappear with him. All that he can leave in the world are the choices that he makes and influences he has had on others. So he decides to save a human life, not take it. This is the choice, the film suggests, this is the kind of empathetic understanding that makes humanity so unique. So in the final minutes proceeding this incident, Deckard decides to take a risk and run away with the woman he loves regardless of the fact that she is not human and may only have a few months to live. Deckard’s true origins are also questioned when he finds an origami unicorn, reminiscent of the one he secretly dreams about, left behind by a mysterious man who clearly knows something about Deckard we don’t. But it doesn’t really matter if Deckard is human because, in the end, he has made a choice that is unmistakably human.
I for one don't mind the voice-over original theatrical version. Once you've seen that version, removing the voice-over doesn't matter that much.
ReplyDeleteI can see that. I've had this conversation with people who had seen the original version first and many even prefer the voice-over. I saw the director's cut first and so had the opposite experience. I have also read that Harrison Ford personally hated the voice-overs, which were a studio-forced add-on, and intentionally hammed it up in protest. I don't know if that is true, but there is something about the silence, especially in the movie's opening shots, that I find very effective.
ReplyDeleteHave you seen the final cut? It fixes some of the little bugs here and there such as the stunt woman's wig falling off as she runs through the breakaway glass. I think it is my preferred version of the film.