Sometimes to love someone, you got to be a stranger." There aren't enough superlatives for this work of art. Denis Villeneuve has crafted the impossible - a sequel that, in my opinion, transcends Ridley Scott's original visuals and Philip K. Dick's noir narrative, while catering to its own modern version of entertainment. I'm amazed how Villeneuve has succeeded in portraying a film with an old-fashioned agenda, whilst simultaneously appealing to the new generation. There's incredulous art in that. But there's a sense, with this long, complex and intellectually demanding film, that every shot counts. Every uncomfortable piece of imagery sets the futuristic scene for the proceeding conflict. And yet, nothing seems unoriginal - every scene has its own characteristic decoration; a prop or two that defines the local atmosphere. Most importantly, though, this new film continues the original story, with a number of references to the ancient history of this pollution-battered husk of California.
True to its origins, the film is riddled with cosmic scale, coupled hauntingly with a loud and unnerving soundtrack, reminding us of this almost autonomous society, where the progression in technology has superseded any recollection of humanity. There's a quote in the film where a replicant mentions that they have become more human than humans. Incredibly self-aware as this film is, it's story pays great homage to the original, by continuing the dark themes of questioning mortality. With its main character, it has constructed another complicated example of binary existence - a person who is unsure of their own identity. The intention with the original film is that it was constantly questioned whether Deckard was actually human, or secretly a replicant. Surprisingly, this film turns that argument on its head, and has a replicant wonder whether he is actually human, and not just a trained assassin with one mission in life. Without imposing too much on Scott's premise, Villeneuve has created some wonderfully beautiful parallels with the original. Characters from the original reappear, not just as cameos to attract and tempt the audience, but as well-scripted recurrences. Edward James Olmos, for instance, returns as Gaff to relay information about the location of Deckard's child, and reminding us of his connection with origami - potent symbolism for the internal memories of replicants. A similar form of memory reconstruction is used in this, with wooden toys. I like the use of wood, simply as it refers to humanity's negligence as custodians of the planet; a planet where its own vegetation and life-force has become a rarity. Even amongst the direct themes to the mortality of replicants, there are indirect nuances regarding the destabilisation of community and its accompanying common decency. Production-wise, I struggle to find fault. There are emphatic contrasts between the separate future communities; abandoned cityscapes bedded with sand adjacent to the bright, iridescent lights of the Los Angeles metropolis; old-fashioned cookers counterbalanced with holographic artificial intelligence. One of my favourite scenes has to be as K falls unconscious following a skirmish with the Wallace Corporation employees, and the camera follows Deckard's abandoned dog padding sorrowfully towards a broken window with a ship disappearing into the distance. There are so many examples of stupefying imagery whereby the production team have outdone themselves in scale and effortless imagination. Clever editing allows for bouts of silent tranquility, followed rapidly by a crescendo of sound - keeping the audience as disconcerted and alert as its characters. Acting was one area I was skeptical about when approaching the film. But, there was no need to doubt the casting. Everyone involved is totally engaged with the material and environment. Ryan Gosling naturally embodies the stubborn, combative and persistent Blade Runner that made Harrison Ford so endearing in the original. As he's barely off the screen, it's commendable to see him so easily capture our concentration. Robin Wright and Sylvia Hoeks both demonstrate their calibre of performance in their roles, equally fierce and authoritative. Hoeks in particular shows great promise as the new actress on the scene, giving us a villain we can truly hate. Above everyone else though, despite having less than half an hour screen time, it's Harrison Ford who gives his all. In a role that has already been established, it might seem like a piece of cake to portray Rick Deckard, but Ford adds many layers to his performance, giving depth to the feelings his character has experienced over the terrible years since 2019. A lot has changed him, and the events toward the end of the movie bring out his grittiest moments. There's one scene in particular that grabs your attention from the off. I'm still revelling in the majesty that is this film. Despite its length, it doesn't feel arduous or monotonous. Villeneuve has devoted enough time to capture the important content - the scenes that require extra notice to fully fathom their meaning. There's so much detail in the shots sometimes, that it immerses you completely in the world, similarly to its predecessor. Whilst nobody asked for this expansion of the Blade Runner world, this film provides good reason for you to see it. Meticulously dancing between meaningful conversations and violent encounters, there's no end to the entertainment, and the satisfying feeling of being pulled into another science-fiction world populated with the latest peaks of imagination. It is an unquestionable spectacle. 9.5/10
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