This is how you make a worthy sequel: by expanding it in every direction

Rating: 9/10 (16 October 2017)

Blade Runner has long been tough love for me. The first time I saw it I was almost bored to death by it, but since everybody kept saying what an absolute classic it was, I kept revisiting it. Somehow, there was this nagging feeling that I was missing out on something great. Of course I could see that it was superbly made on the art direction level, but I estimate that it took me about 5 or 6 times before I fully grasped the pure sci-fi themes at its core: what makes us human, and what excludes an artificial human from that qualification? Like all truly great art, Blade Runner has many layers and different qualities, and doesn't reveal its secrets all at once.
It is not hard to imagine why Denis Villeneuve was daunted by the task to make a worthy successor to this cult movie. It is also easy to see that he succeeded incredibly well: Blade Runner 2049, like Aliens, Terminator 2 and Empire Strikes Back, is one of those rare movies that isn't just a great movie, it's also a great sequel. The best compliment I could give would be that it feels like a completely organic and logical follow-up to its predecessor, a natural second chapter, as if it were already conceived together with the original, rather than afterwards. Both Villeneuve and producer Ridley Scott said they were won over by a great script. Now this is something every filmmaker says before delivering a sub-par sequel (Wes Craven reportedly said the same about Scream 4), but in this case, it couldn't be more true.
Good sequels use familiar parts, add some new, and in exceptional cases, they create something that casts a different light on its predecessor(s). Unlike The Force Awakens, Villeneuve doesn't rely on the classic elements from the very start (apart from he close-up of an eye). He opens with brightly lit shots from greenhouses on the countryside as opposed to a dark city skyline, and he even resists temptation to use the familiar sound from the flying Spinner cars. After re-introducing us to the harsh world of the future where humans have de-humanized and Replicants have no rights, he occasionally allows himself some familiar iconography, with sweeping shots of downtown LA, its seedy underbelly and the Tyrell pyramid; even Harrison Ford is sparingly used with maximum efficiency. The makers show remarkable restraint in a film that could have easily ended up becoming a quick re-hash; instead, it differentiates itself starkly by visiting the uncharted territories, both in its story and in the art-direction.
The main plot deals with detective K trying to unearth a long-hidden secret, but again, those who read between the lines will see the implicit theme being explored here: is denying a race of Replicants their fundamental rights as beings on the grounds of the fact that they are manufactured instead of born not akin to slavery? Hampton Fancher and Michael Green did a superb job of including two survivors from the previous movie into the story, not as a fan service but as a logical extension of their journey. K (Ryan Gosling) becomes a reluctant player in the story, and part of his journey is finding out what exact role he plays in it. Another part is how K must find his place in a world where 'real' seems less clearly defined than ever. In his delightful scenes with Ana de Armas as his companion Joi, the human side of his stoic persona comes out, and it puts an interesting spin on the concept of 'what is real' when even Replicants seem to struggle with it. Some of the more touching scenes are pleasantly reminiscent of Spike Jonze's 'Her', and themes from Children Of Men, another superb movie inspired by Blade Runner's grim version of a dying future, are also quite overt. It is good to see that Blade Runner's spiritual successors have influenced its sequel in turn.
Like true world-builders, Villeneuve and director of photography Roger Deakins show us the stark contrasts between the overpopulated city, the worn-out industrial outskirts and the almost surrealistic remains of Las Vegas. Combined with the slow-paced editing, this creates a sense of immersion that is rare in today's cinema. The sets and surroundings almost become like secondary characters in this set-up. Some might complain a bit about the excessive running time of over 2.5 hours, and in some scenes (especially the ones that focus on K's personal life), the tension sometimes trails off a bit too long at the expense of important subplots. But kudos for a director and a studio who dare to deliver a product much like its predecessor: an expansive, subtle, humane, cerebral, slow-burning blockbuster that feels no need to cater to audiences longing for lean, action-packed storytelling wrapped up in a neat climax. The satisfaction from 2049 not only comes from what it shows, but just as much from what it leaves out; not in the least in its beautifully subdued epilogue.
2049 is a work of art that may even surpass the original, although I say that with some reservation, recognizing the amazing groundwork that the first film laid down. It's just that 2049 feels more complete, whereas Blade Runner, despite its many versions, sometimes seems enigmatic in the sense that some crucial parts still feel missing. The ending of 2049 can work on its own, but it could also be an opportunity for a successor that elaborates on the parts that are now merely subplots.
The disappointing box office may crush that hope in its early stages; again, it may show that the popularity of a movie reflects the passion of its fans, and not necessarily the size of its audience. The overseas markets may give the film the success it deserves, but even if this is the final word, this makes 2049 a more than worthy companion piece for the fans.