Blade Runner Essay Introduction

This post contains STRONG plot spoilers for Blade Runner 2049. We would very much recommend not reading until you’ve had a chance to see if. If you’d like our completely spoiler free review of the movie (hint: we loved it) please click here. If you’ve seen the movie and want to continue, please do!

Blade Runner 2049 shows us a world where there are no longer distinctions between races or classes or creeds, but there are walls between those who are genuine, born humans and those who are one of Niander Wallace’s new Nexus 8 replicants. And more than that, it shows us a world where artificial intelligence is just as emotional as that of living beings. The entire film is about what it means to be “real,” whether you are flesh or pixels.

The original Blade Runner‘s Nexus 6 models had heightened strength and speed and reflexes, but were cursed with a four-year lifespan, making the plight of the brilliant, thoughtful, soulful, and murderous Roy Batty all the more upsetting. They might have been touted by Tyrell as “more human than human,” but once they’ve run out of life, all of their experiences amount to nothing.

30 years later, newly crafted replicants have an open-ended life cycle, but because of an uprising in 2022 — halting replicant production for nearly two decades — replicants were made docile, cooperative. In the new movie, the replicant police officer K (Ryan Gosling) also has to pass a heightened version of the Voight-Kampff test to prove that he is “baseline,” meaning any intense emotions are not to be tolerated and make the replicant police officer subject to retirement (a nice way of saying death). We can assume this baseline test and their genetic manipulation is what allows humanity to keep control.

And beyond that, replicants are unable to procreate. Therefore the “skin jobs” are seen as less than human because they need humanity to continue existing. That is, until the discovery that sets 2049‘s plot in motion. Wallace himself has a rather psychotic monologue about how his replicants are angels but will never be quite human. If he could only find a child born of replicant, he’d have the key, which is of course the major thrust of the movie.

Rachael in the original movie had implanted memories that made her believe she was “real,” even though she’s a replicant. In the new movie, K knows he’s a replicant but has memories just the same. This seems especially cruel, but it also goes toward the idea that memories are the key to humanity, learning from past mistakes and experiences (the memories give replicants “believable human responses”). At the risk of getting way too philosophical, since we’re only living one moment at a time, the only thing we have are memories, and again, like Batty, if nobody cares, all the memories become like tears in rain.

Arguably, K would not be the person he is if not for that one specific memory he had, but then once he found out it wasn’t an implant, he’s compelled to uncover the truth. Is it manipulation, or is it just proof that these replicants are just as “real” as we are?

Blade Runner 2049 also introduces the idea of sentient holographic A.I. Joi (Ana de Armas) is a consumer program that can be purchased, but it’s clear she has desires beyond merely being K’s girlfriend. She fulfills the movie’s hopeful Pinocchio stereotype hinted at in other films, and while the movie never truly addresses it the way it perhaps ought to have, her desire to be self-actualized beyond her programming can’t possibly be unique to that particular Joi. It implies all Jois desire more autonomy, even if it’s simply being projected out in the world. Her death in the film is the movie’s most emotional loss, and the story is all the more tragic for it.

Blade Runner has always dealt with what it means to be alive, and 2049 takes it one step further by saying at a certain point, there’s no difference between synthetic and organic life. Both K and Deckard understand who they are through the eyes and experiences of people they’re trained to think of as unworthy of being. But in a future where life is cheap, any kind of connection is the only thing that matters.

Did you like Blade Runner 2049? What were your impressions of the way different tiers of life are expressed? Let us know in the comments below!

Images: Alcon/Warner Bros

Kyle Anderson is the Associate Editor for Nerdist. You can find his film and TV reviews here. Follow him on Twitter!

Pick Up the Unicorn…

Tags

AI, ana de armas, artificial intelligence, Blade Runner, Blade Runner 2049, harrison ford, Jared Leto, Kyle Anderson Review, LV, ryan gosling

Perhaps it goes without saying that the best science fiction stories are the ones that present us with ideas about our humanity, rather than just pursuing the logic of technological futurism. The impending release of Ridley Scott’s Prometheus this Friday prompted me to revisit Scott’s previous foray into science fiction approximately 30 years ago: his 1982 masterpiece, Blade Runner. I want to offer some, perhaps obvious, ruminations upon the questions I see the film posing, such as: What does it mean to be human? Who is the true protagonist of the film? What is our relationship and ethical responsibility to our creations?

To me, some of the most intriguing philosophical aspects of Blade Runner are the ways that the filmpushes the limits of the definition of human. The definition is complicated through the relationships of the characters, both the replicant “skin jobs” and homo sapiens. The world of Blade Runner, like Alien,is an ambiguous one, in which characters must navigate the interplay of human vs. the non-human, and the lurking threat of monstrosity; in it, the ontological status of one’s humanity is no guarantee of non-presence of the monstrous. Such is the case in Scott’s first science fiction feature, Alien, where the threats are as various as the android, Ash, and the thoroughly “Other” xenomorph which bursts from within the chest of one of the protagonists.

Monstrosity in Blade Runner is slightly more ambiguous. Roy Batty is in fact a fairly perfect “human” specimen: strong, handsome, and erudite. There is also the monstrous uncanny of Sebastian’s creations, the strange and ungainly precursors to the replicants he designs for Dr. Tyrell. Monstrosity is also present in the human characters. See for instance the coldness with which Deckard, along with Bryant and Gaff, respond to the assignment of “retiring” the replicants; the use of the verb absolving them of any moral wrongdoing. To say “kill” would be to grant the replicants some semblance of autonomy, even if merely the status of a living being; to “murder” them would be to tacitly admit their humanity.

The status of the replicants in Blade Runner is not unprecedented in science fiction. In fact it is a reworking of one of the oldest science fiction stories: the story of Frankenstein, or “The Modern Prometheus” as Mary Shelley subtitled her novella (the more one probes these things the more connections one sees across Scott’s science fiction films). Dr. Tyrell creates his replicants with fixed life spans of four years in order to prevent them from getting out of control. Like Victor Frankenstein, Tyrell is complicit in creating a lifeform for which he will not be responsible. Batty’s plea to Tyrell is simple, “I want more life, father!” One could interpret Batty’s subsequent murder of Tyrell as justified punishment for Tyrell’s promethean hubris and refusal to grant Batty more life. Batty’s final speech about all he has seen in his admittedly brief life and all that will be lost, “Like tears in the rain,” after he has saved Deckard’s life (while Deckard has been trying to kill them the whole time) forces the viewer to question his or her initial assumptions about the replicants humanity. Batty’s sheer enjoyment of life, desire to live, and willingness to show mercy is perhaps more “human” than the callous and drained existence most of the human characters live out. As a new version of Frankenstein’s monster, perhaps Batty is more frightening for all the ways that he does seem to surpass the human. Such is Batty’s status that he could be seen as a kind of hero of the film, though a tragic one done in by flaws that are not his own fault. The logic of how we deal with our creations, whether clones, AI, or the kind of advanced combination of bio- and computer-engineering that the replicants represent, is already present in any kind of reproductive ethics, stressing the importance of Batty calling Tyrell “father.”[1]

The standing order to “retire” the replicants may seem like a moral preservation of human identity, drawing a clear line between what is and is not human. But it is an abdication of responsibilities. The solution for pacifying the new breed of replicants raises another ethical quandary; the new replicants receive the implantation of false memories, so that the replicant Rachael doesn’t even know she is a replicant. She believes at first that she is Tyrell’s niece. How then do we deal with an “other” who doesn’t even know they are an other? Such dilemmas further blur the lines between human and non-human.

One of the things that Ridley Scott sought to heighten in his 2006 “Final Cut” was the suggestion that Deckard himself may indeed be a replicant. Whether one finds the suggestion lends the film a stronger ambiguity in terms of judging Deckard’s actions and his relationship to both Batty and Rachael, it is unnecessary in order to show that the line between the humans and replicants is not as clearly marked as one might initially think. If anything, leaving Deckard, who has displayed callousness and an obsession with the past - all the supposed trademarks of the replicants he hunts, as a human makes the thin line between him and the replicants more poignant than if the explanation is simply that he is also a replicant. If anything his encounters with the replicants, both Roy and Rachael, have made him “more human.”

Despite its broad influence on the science fiction cinema that would follow (especially in set design and special effects), Blade Runner remains very unlike other science fiction films. It’s languorous pacing and lack of closure highlights the ambiguity of its world. One could see it as incorporating some of the modes of art cinema practice into the mainstream science fiction film. Will Prometheus follow suit, or will it be a bit more conventional? Either way one hopes that it will offer food for thought on par with Scott’s last science fiction opus, with its resonant title and its own android character played by Michael Fassbender. But perhaps that’s too much to ask.

[1] In earlier cuts of the film, Batty’s line is ambiguous: either “father” or “fucker.”

Blade Runner (1982 [2006 Final Cut])

Directed by Ridley Scott; screenplay by Hampton Fancher and David Webb Peoples based on the novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Phillip K. Dick; starring Harrison Ford, Rutger Hauer, Sean Young, Edward James Olmos, M. Emmet Walsh, Daryl Hannah

Comments

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *