Blade Runner is a beautiful nightmare, bathed in flickering neon and dirty rainwater. Director Ridley Scott feasts upon our fears of the future, wherein humanity’s technological reach has finally exceeded its grasp and we are reduced to a miserable, shivering rabble, lost in the sprawl of our own ambition. A sense of hopelessness radiates from every scene.
That makes Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) the perfect person to live at the center of Blade Runner‘s dystopian squalor. Deckard is a cop who descends from those 40s noir heroes–smart, weary, and teetering on the spiritual edge. His off-duty hours are spent with a rocks glass in one hand and a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black in the other. Deckard puts off the vibe of a sad drunk–alternately rueful and nostalgic.
We learn that he is a part of an elite squad, known as the Blade Runners. These specialized cops have a singular mission: Expose and dispose of replicants–rogue synthetic beings who look completely human. These dangerous humanoids were once banished from the Earth, but a few have reemerged. Pris (Daryl Hannah) is a pleasure model with a free spirit and sociopathic tendencies. Leon (Brion James) is a worker and a brawler. He’s all strength and rage. Their leader is Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), an agile creature with platinum blonde hair and an ominous smile. Most poignantly, Rachael (Sean Young) is a tender-hearted young woman who lives unaware of her artificial origins.
Much like Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now, this One Last Mission will get the better of Deckard. His feelings will soften toward the replicants, particularly Rachael. Meanwhile, Deckard grows increasingly weary of his superiors. (M. Emmett Walsh plays the smarmy boss, while Edward James Olmos is the courier of Deckard’s dreaded assignments.) As he tracks the synthetics, they seek out Eldon Tyrell (Joe Turkel), the ruthless industrialist who designed them. From this tyrant, Roy and company hope to solve a crucial mystery of their existence.
As you might’ve guessed, Blade Runner is a densely packed and surprisingly emotional story. It’s no surprise studio executives didn’t know what to make of it. They famously wrestled Scott’s film away from him, edited key plot points and inserted narration from Ford (who was loath to record it). I watched this version as a pre-teen, and it did not impress me. The story felt disjointed, and Ford’s expository voiceover robbed the film of its mystique.
Somewhere along the way, a director’s cut was released, and it was like watching an entirely different movie. With that version, the story flowed better, and stripping away the pedestrian narration allowed Scott’s visuals to speak for themselves. Even better, Scott’s “Final Cut” is now available, thus delivering the definitive take we all deserve. This is the version I’ll dissect here.
Judged on aesthetics alone, Blade Runner is an all-out masterpiece. The film’s vision of the future–a grimy, gaudy sprawl replete with massive neon billboards and swooping hover-cars–has been imitated dozens of times. Hell, maybe hundreds of times. Off the top my head, I can name The Running Man, Total Recall, Back to the Future II, Demolition Man, Strange Days, Judge Dredd, The Fifth Element, Minority Report, and even newer fare like The Mandalorian. It’s a perfect rendering of Phillip K. Dick’s bleak novel, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?
That perfect style extends to other areas of the production. The score, by Greek maestro Vangelis, melds a steamy neo-noir saxophone with dreamy layers of synthesizer, both of which make the film feel even more haunting and enigmatic. The screenplay, by Hampton Fancher and David Peoples, mimics the hard-bitten dialogue of film noir stalwarts like Raymond Chandler and Dashiel Hammett. Characters speak with the lean desperation of people with nothing to lose.
This especially applies to Ford’s portrayal of Deckard. The actor famously clashed with Scott throughout the production, and these squabbles might have actually helped his performance. Ford brings all his frustration to the grouchy, exhausted Blade Runner. Deckard projects as a man who’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything but what he’s doing. Anybody’s seen Ford at a press junket knows he is the perfect actor for this job. In fact, this might be his finest hour.
Scott’s supporting players are also outstanding. Young brings deep sadness and vulnerability to her icy replicant. Hannah has fun with her character’s burgeoning sense of silliness. I also enjoyed Olmos, whose character repeatedly arrives to ferry Deckard down his own River Styx. With all that said, Runner‘s real marvel is Hauer, who is equally frightening and devastating as the volatile villain. Roy’s final monologue has received rightful acclaim, and Hauer’s command of its startling poetry should’ve landed him an Oscar nomination. Much of this film’s emotional impact is due to deceptive complexity of this performance.
Put all that together, and you’ve got a sci-fi epic for the ages. Some viewers may grow frustrated with the film’s slow-burning story and ambiguous ending, but both only underscore Blade Runner‘s enduring brilliance. Watch it once for the questions. Watch it twice to learn why the answers will never come.
117 min. R. Amazon Video.
