by Reid Williams
Let’s start by going back to a simpler time: November 2019. However, not November 2019 in our reality, but in Ridley Scott’s 1982 genre-bending classic Blade Runner. A film that melds elements of sci-fi, film noir, futuristic technology with an age-old question at its heart, and originality oozing from every frame. Blade Runner was a disappointing flop upon release; However, the film eventually developed a massive cult fanbase that finally spanned a sequel: Blade Runner 2049, in 2017.
The film follows Rick Deckard (played by Harrison Ford), who works for the police force as a “blade runner.” The job of a blade runner is to retire (or kill) rogue “replicants,” an advanced robotic technology that looks almost identical to humans, only smarter and stronger. He is hired to track down and retire four replicants who hijacked a ship where they worked as manual laborers and have returned to Earth.
Blade Runner is a film that is almost as interesting behind the cameras as it is in front of them. Scott famously had a nightmarish time with the studio executives, resulting in a finished product that was not what was intended. This led to the famous multiple cuts of the film, the three most popular being the “Theatrical,” “Director’s,” and “Final” cuts. These cuts not only have stylistic differences, but carry various impacts on the story and its themes.
Without getting into any spoilers yet, I want to make a case for why anyone who hasn’t gotten around to it should watch this film. While some going in may be expecting a run of the mill detective thriller thrown into a futuristic urban setting, this is far from what Blade Runner is. For this reason, the slow pace may throw some modern viewers off at first. However, the film has much larger questions on its mind as to the nature of humanity and life itself. Wrestling with these massive themes means that the plot sometimes has to move along more slowly than one might expect. But understanding that the cat-and-mouse game on the surface is an instrument used to ask some of the heavier philosophical questions of the film helps put things into perspective. If you appreciate movies that will stick with you long after the credits roll, or just appreciate good, original sci-fi action, this is a movie for you.
With that, I consider myself to have spoken my peace to anyone who has not seen Blade Runner. This is your spoiler warning.
One of the things that makes Blade Runner truly special is the mixing of a brilliantly realized sci-fi future with questions that are basic to everyone: what does it mean to be alive? As Deckard and Roy (the leader of the replicants, if you need the refresher) continue on their collision course toward one another, each of them is faced with this question. Deckard, who has always viewed replicants as alien and expendable, finds this tested when he falls for (and his life is saved by) a replicant named Rachel. Roy, on the other hand, finds that the majority of the humans that he interacts with are more cold and unfeeling than their replicant counterparts. His encounter with his own creator, which he finds incredibly disappointing, forces him to face his mortality in a way that he never had before. The final confrontation between the two main characters, even in this futuristic setting, is incredibly primal, as the fight for survival always is. Roy seems to realize this, and embodies it by taunting Deckard with animal-like howls as he purses him. Then, of course, there are Roy’s final moments. In one of my favorite scenes in all of movie history, Deckard fails to jump completely from one building to the next (a jump Roy makes with ease), only to be saved by the replicant he’s been hunting. As his lifespan reaches its predetermined end, Roy gives a monologue on how his memories, his experiences, and all of his life “will be lost in time… like tears in rain.”
So, what does it mean to be alive? I would argue, according to Blade Runner, the answer is rooted in experiences. Not only is it that to live is to be alive, but to feel that you have lived is to be alive. Deckard learns that the way manufacturers are making replicants more manageable is by implanting memories into their consciousness. By doing this, they emotionally anchor the replicants and keep them from being too unstable. This idea seems to be confirmed by Roy’s final monologue, as he mourns not only his demise, but the loss of the life he lived. He has lived an entire replicant life-cycle and now has actual memories that inform his actions. For this reason, it seems, he is truly alive.
Finally, there is the nagging question that it is almost impossible to discuss Blade Runner without addressing: Is Deckard a replicant? In the final moments of the film’s definitive “Final Cut,” Deckard finds an origami unicorn at his apartment, apparently left there by fellow detective Gaff, who has been following Deckard on his quest. As Deckard had dreamed about a unicorn earlier in the film, this seems to heavily imply that Deckard is a replicant with Gaff’s memories implanted in his consciousness (not to mention that slick eye-shimmer that happens earlier in the film). Deckard seems to realize this, come to terms with it, and nod before running off with Rachel. This is a detail that is largely absent from earlier cuts of the film, and even the sequel cleverly avoids addressing this directly. To make matters more complicated, Scott and Ford are famously on opposite sides of this debate. With all of this in mind, who is to say whether Deckard is a replicant or not?
Cards on the table: I fall into the camp that believes Deckard is a replicant. I see it as a brilliant plot twist that deepens the meaning of the film. That being said, I have no problem with people who claim otherwise. The beauty of this bit of ambiguity is that, even as it has massive implications for how an audience views the story as a whole, the themes and questions presented are held up and put forth in different emphases depending on your reading of this issue. If Deckard is a human, then he was taught how to be truly “human” by replicants, both Rachel and Roy. If Deckard is a replicant, this moves the burden off of him and onto the audience. We have been following a replicant with implanted memories this entire time, and never even knew it. Therefore, how could we argue that there is truly any difference? He is just as human and alive as anyone.
This, to me, is the true beauty of Blade Runner: ambiguity without sacrificing themes or story. The goal of the film is not to answer every question about the future world where this takes place, as fascinating as this reality seems. The goal is to tell a compelling story about what it means to be alive, wrapped in a beautiful noir-style tale.
I could go on and on about this film. I could discuss how its genre creativity essentially created a new genre of cyberpunk, or how they beautifully showcase the coldness of humanity, with the only human who truly acts compassionate is the one that spends all his time with machines, or the power and creativity that Rutger Hauer brought to his role, which likely elevated this into an entirely different class of film. However, my goal here is not to give an exhaustive explanation of every detail of Blade Runner (others far more informed and eloquent than myself have already done so), but to show why great films of a bygone era are just as fascinating and brilliant today as they were when they first graced the silver screen. Blade Runner is one that I certainly think falls into that category.