So I finally watched Ridley Scott's highly-touted cult sci-fi film Blade Runner (the 1992 Director's Cut) last night. It had been on my list for a while. Its notable strengths included stunning production design, special effects, and its portrayal of a noir-infused dystopian future in which consumerism has become a substitute for humanity without anyone realizing it. Unfortunately, a strong, engaging narrative was nowhere to be found. Instead, the filmmakers give us broad thematic questions about what it means to be human, delivered largely via slow, under-lit shots that give the film a languid pace and, strangely, occasional bursts of on-the-nose exposition, presumably intended to snap the audience back to attention by reminding us - and the characters on-screen, for that matter - of the few narrative points we are supposed to care about. Even Harrison Ford's Deckard seems listless and bored throughout the film as he hunts down murderous android "replicants" that look, think, and emote like humans.
Now let me take a second to admit that critical sentences like that last one are almost always unfair. I realize that Blade Runner was never supposed to be Indiana Jones Kicks Robot Ass In The Future. Ridley Scott was taking a risk, and in doing so, created the artistic template for every dark, futuristic sci-fi film that has been made since. It was the first of its kind, and that is amazing! But as a writer, I have to complain about the script, which can be called "loose" at best. In the film's dark future, ambiguity and uncertainty are practically required, but Blade Runner shares so very little about any of its characters that it's nearly impossible for an audience to empathize with them. Harrison Ford gives a conflicted, nuanced performance that is miles away from his typical charming, rebellious on-screen persona, but the audience is not privy to the demons that haunt Deckard, whether from his past or in his head, so the character just feels empty. Sean Young's Rachel is even more wooden, but we accept her character more willingly since we know early on that she is a robot herself. Don't get me wrong, I think both do as much as they can with their roles. The audience is simply not allowed far enough into their individual worlds.
The four replicants, on the other hand, are much more vivid, relatable characters. We are told these newest models of robots have the capacity to feel human emotion, but they only have a four-year lifespan. Combining an adult's intellect with a child's naivete and lack of human experience yields unstable results, but all of the quirky replicants have a very "human" motivation - survival.
Perhaps it was Scott's intention to give the machines more humanity than the human characters - thematic commentary through unexpected juxtaposition. If so, he certainly succeeded, but since I doubt he set out to make an intellectual art house film disguised as a sci-fi thriller, I believe this particular success comes at a detriment to the film overall. The slow, seemingly incomplete script combined with the astounding-yet-ultimately-oppressing visual style are too much to ask an audience to overlook. It will and should remain a classic example of trailblazing style, and though I haven't seen every sci-fi film that can be counted among Blade Runner's progeny, I am sure the best of the bunch have tighter narratives.
I believe incompletion is the ultimate culprit for Blade Runner falling short of its narrative potential. Can you imagine the lauded classic it might be with a truly great script? Instead, the film went at least $7 million over budget, was initially a critical and financial failure, and it has had no less than five incarnations from 1982 to 2007. I can understand the fear that drove Warner Bros. studio executives to demand the addition of voice-over narration by Harrison Ford during postproduction. Apparently the voice-over only called more attention to the lacking plot and, along with a forced happy ending that featured a borrowed shot from Stanley Kubrick's The Shining, both eleventh hour additions were removed from the 1992 Director's Cut. Scott did not get around to really finalizing his version of the film until 2007, 25 years after its original release. There are similar stories known and unknown concerning films that had great scripts from the beginning. Still, I can't help but think a tighter script would have at least lessened the chances of such vast indecision when it came to releasing a definitive final product.
The Take-Home
Like any other film review, the preceding commentary is entirely subjective, take it or leave it. So what's the point? Do I just love reading my own words? Of course I do, but hopefully that's not the only reason I love dissecting, interpreting, and arguing about film so much. Whether good or bad, I am a big believer that any film tends to trick us into thinking about our own lives, even if by accident (What's the alternative, intentionally sitting down and thinking about real life? Seriously, why don't we just all get together and do taxes?). So as a burgeoning writer who's moved to Hollywood but not done nearly enough writing, what can I take away from Blade Runner? Lots:
1. I might claim the narrative was incomplete at best, but Ridley Scott still moved forward and made a film that became hugely influential to later films and is now a classic in its own right. Sure, the film might have been better if they'd improved the script prior to production, but it also might never have been made. Thirty years later, Scott's newest sci-fi epic Prometheus is one of the most highly anticipated films of 2012. I'd say he's pretty happy with the way things turned out. Score one for shooting then aiming, not the other way around!
2. Whether on the page or in real life, you've got to know where your story is going. When you wander aimlessly like the plot of Blade Runner, your audience becomes detached and tunes out. As the writer of your own life, don't let that happen. Make a plan and carry it out. Will you falter? Definitely. But finish, and you can end up with a classic on your hands.
3. Even the prettiest, most creative, well composed shot gets old in a hurry. Keep things moving!
4. Even if he's played by Harrison Ford, don't write a character who's apparently on Prozac at all times. It's boring.
5. Whether robots or people, love scenes should be way more exciting than the one between Deckard and Rachel.
Body Heat did it way better without robots or a dystopian future.
