The greatest cyberpunk film of all time has received a rerelease in British cinemas over the past week, and seeing it on the big screen inspired me to write a short review. Though it was a slow burner that was largely unappreciated upon its initial release, Ridley Scott’s masterpiece has since become one of the most revered and analysed science-fiction films in history and has been praised for its narrative depth, strong symbolism and amazing visuals that still hold up today.
It’s the kind of film a viewer can watch a hundred times and still notice something new, whether it be the intricate sets and costume designs or the film’s layered metaphors and complex themes. For a film made amongst the cheesy action films of the eighties, Blade Runner is not only masterfully realized but a very sombre and introspective film that forgoes blockbuster clichés and pays homage to film noir in its dark and brooding style. Released in ’82, it has more in common with 70s filmmaking and the new Hollywood Era than the blockbusters that were to come. Like Empire Strikes Back, this is a serious film in which arguably – the bad guys win. One thing that was particularly clear to me on my most recent viewing is just how much of an antihero Deckard really is and how the “villains” of the piece – the criminal runaway androids – are really the heroes. Deckard methodically hunts them down, whilst they attempt to live off the grid and stay alive. He hardly feels good about it, but he does it all the same. The scene in which he chases down Zhora is particularly harrowing. She attacks him first, but only to give her time to run for her life through crowded streets whilst he gives pursuit, all the way he takes aim at her terrified face until he finally catches her and terminates her.
Deckard’s narrative is what happens when the villain’s henchman gets his own movie. We get to see the stark and miserable world of violence he is coerced into, the grim acts he must undertake to complete his mission as glorified executioner/hitman and the gritty underworld he must trudge through during his investigations; and his lingering regret about what he does. It’s easy to forget amidst the rain, the neon signs and the violent confrontations that Deckard is essentially tasked with killing these androids for their crimes of simply existing, that is to say “retiring” them since they are past their point of usefulness for the Tyrell corporation and the exploitative system that created them as slaves.
The real hero is Roy Batty. An iconic performance by Rutger Hauer, he spends the film trying to save himself and his friends from their premature death and discover the mystery of his creation. His salvation comes when he decides to save Deckard in the film’s climax. When seeing Deckard desperately running for his life, he sees himself – helpless, about to die and struggling to hold on. With his final choice to save Deckard, he transcends his bleak existence and achieves something outside of himself. The film begins with man taking pity on machines, but ends with the machines taking pity on man.
By the end of the film the line between the real and the recreation are blurred. We are presented with a world in which everything is simulacra, hence the constant imagery of toys, manikins, dolls, photos and video screens. Even if Deckard isn’t a replicant, he certainly gets treated like one. Almost everyone in the film ends up a victim in some way. Even Tyrell himself could be a replicant, for all we know (wouldn’t that be just like Philip K. Dick?).
It’s kind of fitting that there are now so many cuts of the film available. Like the film’s protagonist, the movie itself is nebulous and hard to define. Which cut is the “real” cut: the original theatrical release? The one Ridley Scott currently considers the final version? None of them – or all of them? It’s a film that can be endlessly revisited and one of my all-time favourites.