



★ ★ ★ ★ ★





Writing about Blade Runner is often as difficult to write about as it is to watch. To call it a rough ride is not a sleight on the quality, mind, but rather a comment on the complex, multi-layered story and the many philosophical and emotional discussions it raises. At a glance it's a rather harsh, stark vision of the future, but little credit is given to the visceral display of emotions the film displays and produces.



Harrison Ford – hot on the heels of his fame-making role in the Star Wars Trilogy – plays jaded ex-cop Rick Deckard, recruited once again to hunt the streets of 21st century Los Angeles. His prey: replicants, synthetic humans once used for labour, but now outlawed under penalty of death. The replicants themselves, led by Roy Batty (the indomitable Rutger Hauer) have been created with limited lifespans, and seek additional years. Deckard’s duties cross paths with new-era replicant Rachel (Sean Young), a ‘skinjob’ unaware that she is even synthetic.



The search and discovery for genuine emotional capabilities and connections is a two-way split: Roy’s unwavering quest for answers leads him to develop a shield of anger, hatred and fear, whilst Rachel’s belief that she is human provides the empathetic centre. An early scene in which Deckard cruelly reveals to Rachel her true nature is heart-breaking to watch, the latter making every effort not to break down in sobs as she realises her entire life is a fabrication, her perfectly manicured face untainted but for silent tear tracks.



Hauer (relatively unknown at the time of the film’s initial release in 1982), gives the truest definition of a powerhouse performance, a seething bubble of energy and primal instinct waiting to burst. Ford is mostly outshone by the replicants but is believably haggard and helpless as he falls for Rachel and is outwitted by the machines. His glum features are unsympathetic and uninteresting until the emotional weight of killing (newly enforced by his relationship with Rachel) takes a visible toll. Deckard is visibly shaken when, having killed a replicant, he is faced with her bruised and bloodied body lying in a pool of smashed glass as composer Vangelis’ vibrant synth score penetrates the dank atmosphere with scorching urgency.



It’s worth a note that the latest re-working of the film is 2007’s Final Cut, the definitive vision of Scott’s vision after the original was landed with a shoddy ‘happy’ ending and a Double Indemnity­-esque voiceover. While all versions of the film have their own merits, the Final Cut is by far superior: the film is presented in startling digital clarity with carefully enhanced effects and stripped of un-necessary studio interference. The dystopian future (the tangible quality of which is owed in spades to Syd Mead and Lawrence G. Paull) has never looked so bleak, yet so beautiful.



Despite the many legends born upon its back (the most realistic portrayal of the future so far put to screen, a mesmerising visual feast, or a slick update to film noir), Blade Runner is (for me, at least) about an impossible, profound glimmer of hope found by two people amongst the dregs of a society that appears to have left art, empathy and wonder behind. The great irony that one (or more) of them isn’t human at all but a synthetic experiment makes this battle against the odds greater still.