The incessantly rain-spitting polluted dystopia of the director’s cut of “Blade Runner” is the embodiment of depression itself. Harrison Ford’s gloomy bounty hunter Rick Deckard is simple man doing his job with not much depth or purpose larger than that. It’s not a film about figuring yourself out, making the world a better place or deciphering the meaning of life – it’s a multi-layered depiction of a dystopian status quo without judgement or predilections.

By leaving the characters to their own devices by removing the intrusive voiceover, the sci-fi story assumes its own mood and retains its mystery until the end. One of the most distinctive achievements of “Blade Runner” is its eerie and cold atmosphere. The labyrinthine spaces invaded by the characters add to the sense of displacement and confusion caused by the narrative and sci-fi premise. The director Ridley Scott has called his approach to creating these environments “layering” which he defines as “a kaleidoscopic accumulation of detail… in every corner of the frame.” (Bukatman, 1997) The meticulous attention to detail creates a visually engaging world which tells a story of its own. One of the most distinctive examples of this is the scene where Zhora (Joanna Cassidy) dies. The intricate patterns of neon lights, different textures, layers and movement embodies the final whimper of a life imprisoned in heavy blanket of despair, rain and smog. It's a spectacular quiet roar, expressed not through words but a combination of movement and environment – everything the moving pictures are all about.



Despite its visual ingenuity, “Blade Runner” is very distinctly a child of its times. The soundtrack which relies heavily on synthesizers reminds the viewers what the 80s must have sounded like in all its grit and glory but not all time-specific references in “Blade Runner” can be considered a success. Allocation of a specific timescale to the meanderings of Deckard and his friends and enemies seems to enforce not the atmosphere of a magnificent masterpiece of a fictional world but rather the discrepancies between their vision and the world as we know it. The year, according to the titles, is 2019 which means that the outlandish hovercrafts, strange vocabulary and voice-operated CRT TVs have become, by default, anachronisms. Kiss-inspired make-up and futuristic half-bras could have easily have been categorised as endearing period-inspired paraphernalia and the fictional world is complete enough to fare well on its own without the shaky claim for reality.  Similarly, the cumbersome use of the term “blade runner” which had nothing to do with anything at first and was only introduced as a novelty piece to replace the too common-sounding “detective” adds what at the time must have felt like weight, but in hindsight has acquired a more comedic taste. One cannot precede its own time, but aspects of “Blade Runner” are deeply interwoven in the tapestry of the 80s and its strictly dated view of the "unforeseeable future" weakens its claim for independence it would have otherwise enjoyed. As a result, the smug taste of hindsight tends to linger for longer than necessary.

Hair-raising despair as per the 80s

Regardless of its era-related pitfalls, “Blade Runner” undoubtedly deserves its place in the annals of film history. The noiresque cyber dystopia is created with an incredible eye for detail without passing opinion but letting the characters make their own way through the maze of the rain-laden predominantly grey urban space. As the apples never fall far from the tree, some of the aspects of the film are as deeply rooted in the 80s which, at times, works against its greatness and insists on a level of disbelief which is hard to achieve. However, even if your personal opinion scales are level half-way through, the marvellous climax leaves no room for doubts. The fight between Decker and Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) finds an end more graceful than a ballet of swans (collective noun or type of dance, as you wish). In the end, there truly is no bang but a whimper, and “Blade Runner” is all the better for it. Even the overly carefully placed “too obvious to be engaging” metaphor of a white dove cannot diminish its power. Roy’s few but meaningful words combined with his surprising actions carry unbelievably heavy emotional weight and insight which has to be seen to be believed. One cannot deny that it’s indeed a shame Roy won’t live - but then again who does?





Reference
Bukatman, S. 1997. Blade Runner. BFI