‘I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe…’
It’s utterly astonishing looking back that Ridley Scott released Alien and then Blade Runner back to back in 1979 and 1982, respectively – two of the most influential science fiction films ever produced. What’s more astonishing is that both films are post-Star Wars and yet draw absolutely nothing from George Lucas’ series of space operas. Alien is a haunted house movie in space with xenomorphs instead of ghosts, and Blade Runner is a dark and brooding mix of Fritz Lang’s Metropolis, the paintings of Edward Hopper and the noir films of the ’30s and ’40s. Where Lucas drew from Kuwosawa, Scott turned to German expressionism. The result is a film that is utterly timeless, visually incredible and surprisingly beautiful in its own twisted way…
Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), a former ‘blade runner’ (someone who tracks down bioengineered humanoids known as replicants and terminally “retires” them), is coaxed back for one last job. A group of rogue replicants, led by Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), a violent but philosophical Nexus-6 replicant, arrive on Earth in an attempt to find a ‘cure’ for the genetic premature ageing disorder that inflicts all replicants with a four-year shelf life.
Despite a troubled production (Scott clashed with Ford, the crew and seemingly pretty much anyone else who had the temerity to interact with him during the shoot), and an initially rocky reception from critics, Blade Runner has since secured its reputation as a sci-fi masterpiece. While the talented cast are excellent across the board, it is the aesthetic and visual style of the film that really stands out. You’d struggle to find a sci-fi film made in the last forty years with half the visual ingenuity as this one. That hoary old adage often trotted out by film critics about every shot looking like a painting is genuinely accurate here. The whole thing really does look spectacular. Scott succeeds in crafting not just a world but a universe to play in. The heady mixture of Eastern and Western cultures, along with neon lighting and chiaroscuro shadows, remains utterly spellbinding.
Blade Runner is a reminder of what cinema can be when everything goes right. Film critic Mark Rowlands described Roy Batty’s famous 42-word monologue (partly improvised by Hauer) as “perhaps the most moving death soliloquy in cinematic history”. It’s hard to argue. The opening scene is an all-timer. The score is incredible (and weirdly timeless). It’s just all spectacular. That’s the word to use here. This is a truly sensational piece of filmmaking – a true sci-fi masterpiece.
