Sublime

Rating: 10/10 (31 May 2005)

Others here might have commented on the plot and the book that inspired this feat of film-making, or on which version they preferred (director's cut or theatrical). I just want to add my highly subjective two cents. I've seen this movie numerous times now. After watching it again last night, I still find it so moving that I can't get it out of my head. I'm always immediately caught by the combination of the visuals and the music. Their synergy never seems to lose its impact, continuing to haunt my mind after the credits have rolled. The colours, the sounds. They all create this vision of a future that is heart-rendingly beautiful in its painful loneliness. The shots of the busy, crowded city contrasts with the man whose soul is silent. He might narrate the film (in the theatrical version), but to me his forced talking always seems as if he is urging himself to be alive and be part of the world around him. If he dropped the speaking, he might move back to his innate inertia.
The movie places you in his shoes, making you feel and hear the loneliness that is his life. Ironic, so much sound, yet so much silence. Vangelis' music is brilliant in it's ability to make the score more silent than silence itself. Also ironic is that Deckard's truest human interactions are with replicates. His conversations with real humans are devoid of meaning to him, and are only necessitated by his assignment. But his dealings with the replicates take on something greater: meaningful, important interactions at a subconscious level that leaves him changed each time. And then there is Rachel. The only other like him. The only person who feels real and alive to him, who makes him notice he's alive. It must have been some sort of betrayal to him when she implies she doesn't know whether her feelings for him can be trusted, whether they are real or artificial.
Perhaps the film's message is to show us that to be human is to feel and to live and to care. To be consciously present in each moment, as exhibited by the replicates desperately savouring their precious lives and implanted memories. This is opposed to the routine and almost automated behaviour of the real humans in the film, where each interaction is business-like. Though the world of Blade Runner doesn't appear to be showing up anytime soon (the future has changed too much now to conform to the projected visions of the book or film) it's still a lesson we can learn. We don't want to be among the few who are truly alive, living in a world crowded by people whose social behaviour has evolved into that of robots. It is telling that real animals are practically absent in this film. Because they cannot help being natural and true to themselves, their lively presence would have conflicted with the authenticity of the settings, confusing the feelings this film evokes.
Though I consider my tastes minimalist when it comes to romance, I'd have to qualify this film as such. It is in equal parts science-fiction, drama and romance. My girlfriend, though a peace- and nature-loving Korean animist, considers this film a favourite in spite of the violence and absence of nature. Together with The Terminator she also ranks it amongst the most romantic films of all time. So there you have it. It's memorable in every way and appeals to both genders. Having just watched the theatrical version, I find it hard to forget the final images. Deckard driving off with Rachel, fleeing, looking for a life they could share in a world that makes sense to them and allows them to just be. Strange how this scene is bathed in a light that is otherwise absent from the film, which for the most part was set in a perpetual night. The daylight makes it almost dreamlike, which it perhaps signifies. Yet I like to entertain the thought that the end is not a dream, that they did get away. If no one else.