We watched Blade Runner 2049 tonight.
There was, however, a reason I’ve put off seeing it until now. And that reason was I could not for the life of me think of a reason for this film to exist.
The idea that perhaps the original film had a spiritual successor worthy of being made is not an invalid one. But an idea in itself is not a story, and a story in itself does not necessarily justify the existence of characters who fill in as cyphers for characters who were much more compelling the first time around.
Yes, it’s beautiful, but in a curiously contrived way that suffers terribly in comparison with the shadow left by Ridley Scott and Syd Mead’s visionary idealisation of dystopia. I am a huge fan of the work of Roger Deakins and his attempt to shoot as much in-camera as possible, and I guess if one can ever “deserve” an Oscar, then I see no reason to not award it to him this year.
But this film is all aesthetics. Despite an attempt by the screenwriters to reinvent the real/spectral free/slave dialectic for a woke audience, Blade Runner 2049 is all surface pleasures (and synthetically sterile ones at that), lacking both the previous film’s sense of morality and a symbolic web to strengthen our connection with the characters (the horse is doing waaay too much of the heavy lifting). I just didn’t care about the fate of anyone. When Harrison Ford’s character comes equal to the dog in terms of emotional investment, you have problems with a story that no amount of eye candy can fix, no matter how visually inventive (or distracting).
Perhaps the most disappointing thing from a director whose work I have liked, and actors whom I believe are capable of better work, is that there’s nothing in the premise to give legitimacy to the images. If ever there was a case of style over substance, this is it.
Oh yeah, and it is just too. Damn. Long.
Best,
853guy