Seen on October 6th 2017 in a 2D cinema.
A beautiful film, powerful story, and immersive experience. It left me feeling like its protagonist– exhausted, confused, and yet somehow at peace.
I am certain there was symbolism that went way over my head, but I thoroughly appreciated what I was able to register. The theological parallels with the figures of the savior, the holy virgin, and the immaculate conception pushed my expectations along subtly but surely. I was as devastated as K / Joe (Ryan Gosling) when I found out that I would not get to follow the path of the hero after all. The question seemed to become: if you are not the hero of the larger narrative, what is your role?
K, much like the audience, becomes a witness to a miracle. When it becomes clear that he himself is not the miracle, he must choose either to fight to preserve it or to sink into indifference/nihilism. Either choice would be understandable in his circumstances, and both would make for relatable stories, but Blade Runner 2049 takes us down the path of fighting for a larger cause– a path shared by many characters in the film. Sapper Morton (Dave Bautista) fights to keep hidden the story of the Replicant birth; Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) leaves his loved ones to protect the miracle they’d created; Lt. Joshi (Robin Wright) desperately fights for social order; Niander Wallace (Jared Leto) is keen to transform civilization. They are all driven by a grand vision larger than themselves.
Therefore, the climactic fight between K and Luv (Sylvia Hoeks) is significant not only in the lives of those involved but also as a conflict between self-preservation and self-sacrifice. By this point, K’s motivation is mostly devoid of ego, while Luv’s main concern remains to be “the best of the angels”. Somehow, Luv’s shameless egotism made me sympathize with her– there is some of that in all of us. Perhaps by fighting her to the death, K completely kills what remains of his own ego. Perhaps by watching it, we experience part of that too, and this may explain why I was on the edge of my seat during this fight, unable to pick a side, and dreading either outcome. The encounter is visceral and genuinely tense, with the water pulling everyone closer to their death, relentless and impersonal. The blue and yellow hues from the fallen vehicle were a creative way to light this crucial scene, making the struggle all the more ethereal.
The cinematography (Roger Deakins) and visual effects were stunning throughout the film. In retrospect, the range of landscapes presented to us is remarkable, but during the film, they flowed naturally. Every moment was filled with marvelous detail, but worldbuilding never overshadowed storytelling. The vast cityscapes, mind-bending architecture, deep colors, and the wondrous reflections that lit so much of this film all seemed but backdrops to a powerful central narrative. In between being utterly lost in the emotional and personal, I would suddenly become aware of the amazing world underneath.
I have yet to research the extent to which Ridley Scott was involved, but it is obvious the film owes a lot to Denis Villeneuve’s clear vision as a director, and to a good script by Hampton Fancher and Michael Green. The mojo is consistent, the structure is creative, and it’s clear these filmmakers didn’t take us for fools.
The acting was excellent. Mackenzie Davis as Mariette had a magical significance about her, and the overlaid performance with Ana de Armas as Joi was visually striking as well as emotionally potent. Armas completely sells the character of Joi, a disembodied entity that is totally genuine in its desire to be, to have a body, and to please K. The fact that Joi is a mass-produced product does not change the sincerity she projects, nor how easily we and K buy it.
Robin Wright as Lt. Joshi was very much human, with her arrogance and sensitivity blatantly exposed. Her final moments with Luv were painful to watch, and for a moment Wright embodied all of us in the face of the unyielding machine. When she downed that glass of whiskey, she knew what was coming, and so did we. In contrast, Jared Leto as Wallace was somewhat opaque and obscure, but I suspect this is how the character was intended to be. We get a glimpse of an overwhelming ambition and idealism driving him, but it felt distant and cold to me– human, but not in a way I liked. This should not be surprising, as after all there are very few Niander Wallaces in the world, and their calculated vision must be alien to most.
Harrison Ford, returning as Deckard, appears fairly late in the film and adds a reluctant charm, grounding the film at a point when it could have easily gone off the rails. He plays someone who has made tough choices and has long since learned to live with them. I wonder what a day in the life of Deckard would have looked like, drinking whiskey with his dog and tending to his bees amidst the surreal ruins of Las Vegas. One particular scene especially owed its poignancy to Ford’s powerful performance: when Wallace throws into question Deckard’s life and love as pre-determined and devoid of meaning, we get a long close-up of Ford’s face and witness a sequence of subtle transformations. The terror that flickers across his eyes, and the weight that sets down upon him, and the inexplicable strength that he somehow musters to speak the words, “I know what’s real,” were thrilling to watch and a perfect vessel for my own experience of those same emotions.
The soundtrack (Hans Zimmer, Benjamin Wallfisch) and overall sound design worked wonders, completing the feel of the universe and driving home the dread and hope. I felt some kind of rage writhing beneath the music, subtle and powerful, and it hinted at the unimaginable inner experience of K and the Replicants in general. Who is to say what it is like to be an artificially intelligent bioengineered being? I have no idea, but rage is a primal experience I find easy to imagine in others.
Ryan Gosling’s task of portraying K’s utter fury and desperation cannot have been easy. Like Pinnochio, K is tossed between the lures of pleasure, dreams of family, and a quest for the truth. His relationship with Joi is fragile, touching, and tragic. His anger and hope in finding a father figure, Deckard, is ultimately baseless and heartbreaking.
On the one hand, his character is ultimately an alien– something entirely non-human; at the same time, his struggles mirror an experience that humans have utterly monopolized: the journey of defining oneself and one’s path. The only reason this film works at all is that we can relate to K, but the main reason it works so well is due to the uneasy reminders that, in the end, he is not one of us.
There was a sense in me that his experience cannot possibly be authentic – a feeling clearly shared by K himself, who is constantly reminded that he “has no soul"– and yet I was convinced that those same feelings in me would be as valid as can be. As his doubt slowly seeped into me as well, I began to wonder about my own human experience: what makes it authentic?
In some sense, Blade Runner 2049 explored not so much what it is like to be an AI, but what it is like to be human. Perhaps the writers hid a jewel in an inconspicuous joke quipped by Deckard in the casino– when K asks him if the dog he lives with is real, Deckard smirks and says, "Why don’t you ask him?”
~~~ You can find more film notes on my Meupila blog.~~~