Blade Runner (1982)
The immersion of futuristic cities is magical, be it depressing and decrepit with decay—still, magical. 2019 Los Angeles in Blade Runner follows the same vision—a stark perspective as far as imagination can take you—foreseeing technology evolving us out of institutions and home. The remnants of humanity on Earth are those not qualified to participate in off-world campaigns, a series of migrations outside the planet due to ecocide. If a viewer is actively looking for details, they are rampant in each shot of the densely populated city. Syd Mead's concept design is phenomenal, constructing a rainy and smoky visage of complex illuminated architecture stretching as far as the eye can see. The location is instrumental in the story's ability to establish a tone—a cathartic view of dilapidated civilization shining so brightly in the night. Inspired by Hong Kong, Blade Runner's worldbuilding not only serves as a spectacle but also as a statement of facades and false aesthetics. Using a combination of Asian designs layered atop American sensibilities, the high-tech availability to the public is a dark reflection of the control we're under. The city is constantly wet among the jostling on narrow streets in a gritty urban ecosystem. Blinded by neon lights probing the depths of a dystopia, one might miss the portrait of broken consumerism accentuating the allure of the night.
Blade Runner has a principle with its philosophy, akin to the dripping rainwater accumulating on concrete, as its reveals are extremely surface-level. In fact, I've watched films inspired by it that are more strategic in their exposition and cerebralism. This is not a downside, mostly because director Ridley Scott's technique emphasizes subtext. The clarity achieved here may appear to pale in comparison to different ideas in the same genre, but only because they were inspired by it. Even if they improved upon it, Blade Runner visually introduces a frightening reality in every ethical sense, posing a dilemma that remains unsolved and impossible to solve. The replicants in the film, bioengineered humanoids, are all but actually human. Their emotions that they can learn, their expressions that they can mimic, and even their memories that can be implanted all prove their individuality. Who's to say this isn't what it means to be human if the replicants can autonomously think? Eventually, the story moves on from being about robot rights to assessing human responsibility for creation and death. Ultimately, if the replicants attain the ability of self-sustenance, what distinguishes their blood from ours?
Adapted from Philip K. Dick's 1968 novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, Scott's collaboration with Mead, DP Jordan Cronenweth, and composer Vangelis produced a comprehensive revelation on the future. Outside of the artificial intelligence themes, the film ideates technology, a lot of which we currently have and are mass-produced indispensable parts of larger systems. We see Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) pay for a video call, a form of real-time communication that's widely prominent now. Self-driving cars exist, and while flying cars are still prototypes, holograms and smart homes are within a civilian's reach. Society in Blade Runner is merely touched upon, and the intricacies of the city are still shrouded, making the beauty of it all larger than life. When the viewer hears the title track with a few synthesizer keys playing a grandiose welcome, it signifies another world, an experience. Vangelis' score mixes a haunting medley of noir jazz with Middle Eastern vocalizations, applying a mythical aura to the textures of 2019 Los Angeles.
Ford's performance alongside the rest of the cast is solid, and it's worth noting that Blade Runner is still a detective thriller. There's a mystery to solve, and Deckard uncovering clues evidently leads to numerous instances of original cyberpunk elements. These themes have developed into elaborate sub-genres, like steampunk, but at its root, the narrative integrates transhumanism to tip the scale of evolution and highlights the fight against corporations reaching godly status. Even so, I'll be the first to admit that Blade Runner isn't perfect, even as the one to set a precedent. The story certainly loses its steam in a few different moments, taking a while to build the tension of a fated confrontation. Whether it's pacing or writing, the film doesn't realize its humanity without a hitch. However, its strengths far outweigh the aforementioned, building an industrial scope of retro-futurism. Scott and his collaborators sourced the visual design from Jean Giraud's 1976 comics short story The Long Tomorrow, illustrating a vertical underground city filled with androids and flying cars. As an intellectual and mechanical piece of forboding influence, Blade Runner is borderline untouchable. It proposes plenty of provocative insights, but perhaps the most important one is: do androids grieve?