Thoughts on Blade Runner
[Written by Connor to accompany the 2-part podcast on Blade Runner. Joe has also written a movie review]
I'm a fan of science fiction so, naturally, I like Ridley Scott's Blade Runner, a sci-fi noir film released in 1982. The film and its 2017 sequel are often cited as relatively philosophical in its dystopian themes; asking deep questions about humanity and meaning. After watching both films and recording a two-part podcast I thought I'd share some thoughts in appreciation of what I believe to be two of the best science fiction films in existence... while challenging some of the thematic conceptions associated with it.
The first film follows reluctant blade runner, Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), a cop who hunts a group of rogue replicants led by Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), who are attempting to extend their short lifespans. Deckard is confronted with truths about humanity as he hunts the replicants down one by one. Ultimately he begins to see the replicants he "retires" are "more human than human".
In the sequel set 30 years later, Blade Runner 2049, K (Ryan Gosling), a blade runner and new model of replicant, discovers the world-changing secret that a replicant has given birth. As he tries to ensure the secret is buried he is forced to confront the possibility that the born replicant in question, may be himself.
The Legacy of Cyberpunk
Blade Runner is perhaps the first tangible example of what has become known as "Cyberpunk" - a kind of sci-fi setting that deals with a high-tech environment, juxtaposed with social issues like poverty, overcrowding and low quality of life. Traditionally, such a setting is framed as a warning of the more controversial cultural changes that have occurred over the last century. After all, in this sense, the writers of the 50s, 60s and 70s that cemented this motif, had a lot to discuss in changing times. For example, the dangers of capitalism, the sexual revolution, population booms and environmental damage were all on the table, so to speak. Another popular example of these themes at work is The Matrix trilogy, which uses high-tech imagery in a far-from-romanticised world. As is usually the point of science fiction, the premise plays on one or two extraordinary, (but by no means fantastical) elements to explore how humanity might face it. Blade Runner's world contains various cultural influences and a constant confrontation with pervasive corporate presence where human life has little value in order to frame its central story.
However, in more recent works, this deeply striking aesthetic captures the neon cityscape, brimming with advertisements and industry, in a way that promises adventure rather than oppression. Some of the examples mentioned in the podcast are Ghost in the Shell, Ready Player One and Altered Carbon. Add this to the popularity of art of neo-futurism, anime & manga and the movement of cyberculture; all which seem to, in some sense, affirm the beauty of cyberpunk's vision. Perhaps this glorification of cyberpunk marks the start of a shift in postmodernism and late capitalism that Philip K Dick's original novel seemed to predict? With industrial urbanisation on the rise across the globe one can't help but speculate if this world of terror resonates with people in the correct way or if the expansive city and all its technological quirks is simply immutable.
Is Blade Runner a Feminist Film?
The world of Blade Runner arguably has only a few examples of female empowerment - some of its second film's most prominent female characters are prostitutes and holographic fantasy products. Indeed, as Vice's Charlotte Gush pointed out, the film's narrative is "eye-gougingly sexist". This however doesn't mean the film itself is misogynistic - in fact, it often means the opposite. Let's not forget that the world offered to us in Blade Runner is a dystopia. Therefore, its probably just as inappropriate a parallel to point out that 12 Years A Slave contains racism and is therefore racist. It would be a strange world if we took every element of story and character to be a fable we were supposed to emulate. Where would that leave antagonists and allegories that we are supposed to actively despise? How would anyone write characters or situations containing conflict if stories were confined to be devoid of dark themes?
While some critics questioned whether the film was intended to appeal towards heterosexual men, others (more accurately) noticed the thematic parallels between the ideas of contemporary misogyny and the commentary on second-class citizenry; most characters being marginalised - slaves, replicants, orphans and women. In a sci-fi world we need parallels we can recognise and relate to - portraying some females in a bad light helps us identify a dystopia and arguably says more about our world today than the future. This was apparently the directors intention.
Even so, I still feel compelled to point out that, contrary to this idea, there exists a ton of strong female characters in the Blade Runner story. This is in spite, and in some cases, because of its intentional thematic sexism. While I think this misogynistic charge is probably legitimate for the original film (it was the 80s after all!), the sequel provides, in both active and even supposedly passive roles, various opportunities for its female characters to inform the story. The characters of Joi, Luv, Lt. Joshi, Dr. Ana Stelline, Mariette and Rachel are considerably intriguing, strong and far beyond one-dimensional writing.
Rachel (Sean Young) is a character pivotal to the central ideas and plot of both films. Being a replicant unaware of her apparent lack of humanity and in the latter film, the inciting incident of all its mystery, conflict and hope by being the first replicant to give birth. Sure, she wasn't slapped across posters or payed millions like Harrison Ford but she wasn't in Star Wars and Indiana Jones either. Perhaps that reality says something about historical Hollywood gender politics rather than talent? That said, despite not reprising her role per se, she did work on the representation of Rachel, woven into 2049's narrative. Joi's nature as a holographic fantasy only strengthens the impact of the motifs of identity, meaning and reality. Can we truly write her off as non-sentient or unreal? Was her and K's relationship nothing more than fantasy? It's a lot more nuanced than her being a sexualised non-character and that looming question only strengthens the characterisation and ideas of the film. Elsewhere, prostitutes turn out to be undercover agents, both the chief of police and head of the resistance are fleshed-out, authoritative and decision-making leaders. The male characters are arguably just as marginalised and/or lacking humanity and the only character with creativity and genuine passion is Dr. Ana Stelline.
Is Deckard a Replicant?
Who cares? Perhaps the most uninteresting (not to mention retconned) question presented by the film is whether its protagonist, Rick Deckard is in fact one of the very replicants he hunts. Given how the film offers this potential revelation on top of his already complete character arc, where he has already accepted their humanity, it largely feels unnecessary. After all, the point has already been proven by now that replicant lives are just as rich and meaningful as human ones - if not more. Most people who are familiar with the film know that Ridley Scott added in his director's cut, a dream sequence involving a unicorn. This invokes the idea that Gaff, a fellow officer of the law, in leaving him an origami unicorn has looked inside of his brain or knows his memories? Sure why not. Rather than the explanation that most people were happy with in the theatrical release - that the character, shown to be making origami and figurines throughout, had left him a token as a gesture of goodwill, allowing him to depart in peace.
Ultimately, it adds nothing to the characterisation and if anything undermines it with confusion; both artistically and plot-wise. The established point after all, is that replicancy doesn't change anything about a person's worth. Not to mention, Deckard would have to inexplicably be the world's weakest and most inept replicant created, made for a purpose never disclosed. This is one of those moments that fans of the film cite its mind-blowing philosophy. While I don't disagree that the film has a lot on its mind - this isn't where it can be found.
Worldbuilding Done Right, Narratives Done Wrong?
Both films contain a narrative that is largely a story of humanity. Principally, of finding (or perhaps rediscovering) humanity. But underneath all this it relies on a dour and soulless setting that acts as a pedestal for this moment to have true impact.
Narratively I'm not so sold on the ultimate payoff to Blade Runner's story and here's why. I feel that the worldbuilding is actually so crazy-good that it entirely swallows the simplistic and underwhelming plot. The chemistry built up between two actors who hated one another (unsurprisingly) doesn't land, neither does its (literally) forced romance. As for Hauer's Roy, the abrupt halt to his unfeeling murder-spree comes off as... fine... I guess. Now in the second film I think its story manages to pay off in a much more satisfying manner. I feel myself much more engaged with its characters and the plot beats. Any issue I might give the 1982 film on its pace on a bad day, I couldn't really give here. I think that's because the way in which a sense of meaning is offered by both films is fundamentally different. The first film is simply content to ask questions while the second offers us some speculative answers. For example, K finds meaning in sacrifice rather than his original utilitarian goal of order, reality in compassion rather than products and identity in his decision-making and not his origins. These are very clear answers - however much we might feel compelled to challenge or discuss them. In the 2019 setting, Deckard has no agency or motivation throughout most of the plot - he is trapped, disinterested and bored. In 2049, we can emote to K as his humanity, frailty and search for meaning breaks through his steely exterior and resonates with us as viewers. Essentially, our protagonists are people that don't matter in the grander scale of things but 2049 owns that decision.
An Eye for an Eye
Lastly, lets talk about Christianity. In the first film, imagery of doves and talk of "prodigal sons" comes off as syncretic, cheap and lazy; an attempt to cram relatively broad religiosity into a plot that doesn't need it. Ultimately, the addition of Christianity over any other religion seems arbitrary and is spoken by characters who feel more like secularised capitalists than prophets and demagogues.
In 2049 however, dialogue about miracles, angels and self-sacrifice feel incredibly relevant. In contrast to previous head-honcho Tyrel, Wallace's pseudo-religious rhetoric sets him up as hubristic; an overlord and conqueror of nature who seeks to control reproduction and life itself. This ties in nicely with his blindness and Luv's complex to impress her master. His utilitarian arrogance contrasts to the self-sacrificing humility of the final act, both in Deckard and K's actions. The way in which both sides treat fertility, one with reverence, the other with control in mind, sets up one the most striking conflicts of the story.
It's a shame both films weren't as successful as they could have been; especially the sequel, which was met with great critical reception. I'd be interested to see more stories set in this world, even if I'm apparently in a small minority. I recommend you check out the films as well as the film shorts that director Denis Villeneuve organised, available on YouTube. In our cinematic world, audiences and studios lean so heavily on established franchises. Blade Runner shows that films can be visually stunning and exciting, dramatically compelling and still make us think.