Note: This review will be filled with SPOILERS. The producers of the film have been notoriously cagey about spoilers, but so much of what I want to talk about involves spoilers, so here we are. If you wanna go in cold, go see Blade Runner 2049 first and then come back to read my thoughts.
"More human than human."
The original Blade Runner is an experience. It's a film that engulfs you in its noir-infused world,
possessing your spirit and your mind for 117 minutes of incredible visual bliss. It's one of the most atmospheric movies ever made, and its philosophies and designs have been the subject of endless discussion. Before rewatching the film a few weeks ago, I really had no memory of what the actual narrative was. But I remembered how it made me feel, how the music touched my soul, how it held me in its grasp and didn't let me go until the final frame. Even with its flaws (some of which were compounded upon second viewing), Blade Runner remains a masterful achievement, a trip to another world that asks profound questions without ever settling for easy answers. On paper, a sequel to such a defining classic is a terrible idea. But when said sequel involves the principal players of the original film (Ridley Scott, Hampton Fancher, and Harrison Ford), as well as Denis Villeneuve, Roger Deakins, and Ryan Gosling, things get a little more interesting.
"More human than human."
The original Blade Runner is an experience. It's a film that engulfs you in its noir-infused world,
possessing your spirit and your mind for 117 minutes of incredible visual bliss. It's one of the most atmospheric movies ever made, and its philosophies and designs have been the subject of endless discussion. Before rewatching the film a few weeks ago, I really had no memory of what the actual narrative was. But I remembered how it made me feel, how the music touched my soul, how it held me in its grasp and didn't let me go until the final frame. Even with its flaws (some of which were compounded upon second viewing), Blade Runner remains a masterful achievement, a trip to another world that asks profound questions without ever settling for easy answers. On paper, a sequel to such a defining classic is a terrible idea. But when said sequel involves the principal players of the original film (Ridley Scott, Hampton Fancher, and Harrison Ford), as well as Denis Villeneuve, Roger Deakins, and Ryan Gosling, things get a little more interesting.
Blade Runner 2049 was always one of my most anticipated films of 2017, a follow-up 35 years in the making that had the unfortunate task of living up to impossible expectations. And yet, this film somehow comes close to exceeding them. Blade Runner 2049 is a challenging, uncommonly ambitious beast of a sci-fi epic, an 164 minute exploration of the future that is as slow and meandering as it is gorgeous and thrilling. It feels a little rough around the edges, and one viewing is simply not enough to make a final verdict on some of the film's boldest choices. But even if it is a grandiose and occasionally unruly undertaking, Blade Runner 2049 is one of the most haunting experiences I've had in a movie theater. It is a film that I just cannot get out of my head. Denis Villeneuve, who already displayed his brilliance with Prisoners, Sicario, and Arrival, has delivered something truly unshakable, an exploration of our desire for connection, the fruitless search for meaning, and of course, what it means to be human. It's certainly imperfect, but 2049 is a beautiful nightmare that will leave a mark. It's tragic and mystifying, ambiguous and cerebral- it's the kind of rich sci-fi that will possess your thoughts for days. And ultimately, it's a sequel worthy of its esteemed predecessor.
Officer K (Ryan Gosling) is a blade runner for the Los Angeles Police Department, tracking down and retiring old replicant outlaws. But here's the twist- K is a replicant himself. Unlike the mystery surrounding Rick Deckard's status, Blade Runner 2049 makes no qualms about how the world perceives K- he's a replicant. But K can't help but think that he's something more, and he's constantly searching for a human connection with the world. While seeking to retire an aging replicant named Sapper Morton (Dave Bautista), K discovers a deeply buried secret that has the potential to change the course of human history. On Sapper's farm, a case full of bones is buried deep underground. They're the bones of a replicant woman, but the autopsy reveals that she died from injuries related to childbirth, something that was long thought to be an impossibility for replicants.
Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright), fearing what may come of this revelation, orders K to keep the secret, find the child, and eliminate it. But something inside K is awakened by this discovery, especially by the presence of a specific date: "6.10.21." K begins to suspect that he is the long-forgotten descendant of both a human and a replicant. Meanwhile, business titan Niander Wallace (Jared Leto), who took over the replicant business in the aftermath of Tyrell's death at the hands of Roy Batty, is searching for a way to increase development in his product. He sends his assistant/assassin, Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), to hunt for the origin of the child and unlock the key to the future of the species. As K embarks on his journey of self-discovery, all roads lead to Deckard (Harrison Ford), the blade runner who disappeared with Rachael (Sean Young) nearly 30 years ago. Does he hold the answers that K seeks? Or is the young blade runner doomed to a fate similar to Deckard himself? If you're a fan of this franchise, you already know the answer to that question.
We've pretty much known this to be the case since the first trailer arrived back in December, but Blade Runner 2049 is one of the most beautiful films to hit theaters this year. Nearly every review of this film, positive or negative, has at least admitted that the visuals are nothing short of astonishing. It feels slightly pointless to elaborate further, but no review of 2049 is complete without discussing how incredible this thing looks. The cinematography by 13-time Oscar-nominee Roger Deakins is out of this world, so crisp and clean and striking in its dystopian simplicity. While it lacks the cyberpunk grunge of Ridley Scott's 1982 original, Denis Villeneuve and Deakins expand the world with ease, taking us to a dusty, nuclear wasteland version of Las Vegas, a trash heap society on the outskirts of Los Angeles, and a farming world with very little vegetation left to sustain it. 2049 lacks the grimy spirit of the original, but its larger scope makes it an equally compelling watch.
Blade Runner 2049 is totally gorgeous, and I'll expand on some of the other things that make it such a thoroughly fascinating movie in a second. But it is worth noting- this is a slow, methodical film, one that isn't without its flaws. As frequently mentioned, this is a film that runs a staggering 2 hours and 44 minutes, making it one of the longest modern blockbusters not made by Christopher Nolan. Does it need that runtime? I don't really know. Part of what makes this such an interesting film is the way that it gives the story room to breathe, allowing the viewer to meander along with the characters and soak in the amazing visuals. I found myself wishing that Villeneuve would speed things up on a few occasions, but after a second viewing, I'll admit that the story being told here benefits from the epic length. But nonetheless, Blade Runner 2049 is not quite perfect, and even if you're a huge fan of this series and hard sci-fi, it's not exactly an easy viewing experience.
I say all this because I think so much of 2049's power comes from the way that it lingers, the way that it stays in your mind for days after you see it. Villeneuve has not crafted a traditional action blockbuster- this isn't a movie that delivers crowd-pleasing moments or scenes where fanboys are meant to cheer. No, Villeneuve asks his audience to think, to reflect, to ponder the images and the narrative that is being told. This is certainly a demanding film, no question about it. But by asking you to give quite a bit over to this film (time, energy, etc.), Villeneuve delivers the kind of thought-provoking work that is all too rare on this scale. Blade Runner 2049, like the best science fiction and like its iconic predecessor, finds staying power in its big ideas and immensely powerful themes. It's a visual feast and a good mystery movie, but that's not what you'll be thinking about after the credits roll.
As much as this is a story about finding Harrison Ford's Rick Deckard, this film does not belong to the original blade runner. This is K's story, and his tragic, consistently surprising arc made the movie for me. Ryan Gosling is one of my favorite actors working today, and from his humble origins as a dreamy teenage crush in The Notebook, he has branched out into comedies, musicals, and more to become one of the best actors working today. Judging by what we had seen from the trailers, Gosling's performance in 2049 appeared to veer closer to his collaborations with Nicolas Winding Refn, in which he played stoic, emotionless men grappling with their violent nature. With that in mind, it made sense for Gosling to play a replicant in the cold, sterile world of Blade Runner. More so than any other major actor working today, Gosling is able to channel the distinct mix of charm and moodiness that Ford achieved in the original.
But this performance is so much more than that. K is not the immediate successor of Deckard, and to compare the characters feels futile. It's a stroke of genius to announce K's status as a replicant right at the start, and it's perhaps even more brilliant to have his journey center around a desire to be human. And so while Gosling's performance has the air of stoicism that he typically brings to his macho characters, there's something else going on here, something much more childlike. Gosling hits the jackpot with this performance, channeling a perfect mixture of emotional yearning and traumatic anger. K is convinced that he's the chosen one, the son of Rick Deckard and Rachael who has the potential to change the world and re-shape the order of things. It's only when the film reveals its biggest twist that Blade Runner 2049 moves from being a typical hero's journey to a clever deconstruction of blockbuster cinema's favorite trope. The twist is jarring, but makes sense in the grand scheme of the narrative.
Gosling is the focal point of Fancher and Green's excellent screenplay, but he's supported by a cast where pretty much every single actor knocks it out of the park. Harrison Ford could have phoned it in here, but instead, I think it's fair to say that he deserves an Oscar nomination for this performance. He certainly maintains his gruff charm, but there's a broken spirit to Deckard in this film that feels so truly perfect. Despite all of the hate from fans on the internet, Jared Leto is genuinely terrific in what basically amounts to a two-scene cameo, creating a character with Wallace who is as magnetic as he is terrifying. Ana de Armas makes the absolute most of her surprising turn as Joi, and there's a scene with her, Gosling, and Mackenzie Davis that is jaw-dropping. Sylvia Hoeks is brilliant, and I've already read some pieces that position her as the film's most fascinating creation. And if you listen closely, I think Robin Wright drops some of the most compelling psychological nuggets in what is ultimately an excellent performance.
If the original was rambling and inconclusive in its philosophical ideas, Blade Runner 2049 emerges as a film with a remarkably clear vision. Sure, Villeneuve, Fancher, and Green all leave room for plenty of ambiguity in both the direction and the script. We still don't get an answer on the age old question of "Is Deckard a replicant?" And that's because I believe the film settles on the idea that it doesn't matter. We've been asking the wrong question. In a way, 2049's central idea is truly chilling- and maybe illuminating in an unexpected way. Blade Runner 2049 ultimately seems to believe that the difference between humans and replicants is made up. The only differences between the two groups are social ones, distinctions bound by the order of society that Lieutenant Joshi wants so badly to maintain. But humans and replicants were both created and designed, whether by God, nature, or the inner workings of Tyrell and Wallace's laboratories. This epic struggle between man and machine, these cultural walls, the desire for rebellion by a revolutionary segment of the replicant class- it's all an unnecessary product of the myth of order.
What if humanity isn't defined by biology so much as it is by our own actions? K, and seemingly every other replicant ever created, feels human without knowing what to do with that feeling. In one of the most critical scenes in the film, Villeneuve gives us the film's biggest twist, while also setting up a large-scale uprising by the replicants against the human establishment. It's what you would expect from this film, and it's the war that Joshi predicted earlier, the total destruction of the barriers that previously existed. But instead of bringing us this battle, the film goes small, turning its attention to completing K's story and bringing Deckard's narrative to some kind of a conclusion. Destroying the order of society won't make K human, nor will killing Deckard (as one of the revolutionaries instructs him to do). The most human thing K can do is to show empathy, to commit a selfless act in order to right a tremendous wrong. And for Deckard, the question of his origin as a human or replicant is utterly pointless as long as he's reunited with the daughter that he lost so long ago.
Blade Runner 2049's ending is nothing short of magnificent, and it's what solidifies the film as being truly unforgettable in my eyes. After Villeneuve spends so much time crafting a hard-boiled, grim procedural, the story cracks open to reveal an unexpected emotional core. Sci-fi films that deal with big ideas often tackle them in objective ways- even the original Blade Runner doesn't pack any kind of emotional punch. But as evidenced by last year's Arrival, Villeneuve isn't afraid to delve deep into that territory, and he creates an absolutely devastating and profoundly touching ending. For Gosling's K, it represents the tragic end of a journey, the successful culmination of the most human act any replicant can commit. For Deckard, it's the conclusion of three decades on the run, 30 years of hiding from the forces that destroyed his life. As K lies dying in the snow while Deckard puts his hand on that glass window, it's hard not to feel that we're seeing one of the most indelible conclusions in sci-fi history.
Watching Blade Runner 2049 is not always easy, but it's one of the most powerful films I've seen all year. It's a brilliant conversation piece, the kind of movie that will get people talking and allow them to reach a variety of different conclusions. But it's also striking in the way that it creates a mood, one simultaneously filled with hope and dread, catharsis and tragedy. Filled with complex ideas and awe-inspiring images, Blade Runner 2049 is a blockbuster for the ages, a film where I feel that I've barely cracked the surface of its infinite pleasures and vast mysteries. And frankly, that is unbelievably exciting.
In an era where so many big-budget films suffer from a bland kind of sameness, Villeneuve has delivered something that deliberately avoids every cliche in the book. There's no cheesy action or faux philosophical posturing- this is a stone-cold brilliant piece of filmmaking, overflowing with ideas and led by a director at the top of his game. Two of the best performances of the year, a visual feast, an astonishing score from Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Walfisch, and an unforgettable ending- Blade Runner 2049 is a sci-fi sequel for the ages.
Officer K (Ryan Gosling) is a blade runner for the Los Angeles Police Department, tracking down and retiring old replicant outlaws. But here's the twist- K is a replicant himself. Unlike the mystery surrounding Rick Deckard's status, Blade Runner 2049 makes no qualms about how the world perceives K- he's a replicant. But K can't help but think that he's something more, and he's constantly searching for a human connection with the world. While seeking to retire an aging replicant named Sapper Morton (Dave Bautista), K discovers a deeply buried secret that has the potential to change the course of human history. On Sapper's farm, a case full of bones is buried deep underground. They're the bones of a replicant woman, but the autopsy reveals that she died from injuries related to childbirth, something that was long thought to be an impossibility for replicants.
Lieutenant Joshi (Robin Wright), fearing what may come of this revelation, orders K to keep the secret, find the child, and eliminate it. But something inside K is awakened by this discovery, especially by the presence of a specific date: "6.10.21." K begins to suspect that he is the long-forgotten descendant of both a human and a replicant. Meanwhile, business titan Niander Wallace (Jared Leto), who took over the replicant business in the aftermath of Tyrell's death at the hands of Roy Batty, is searching for a way to increase development in his product. He sends his assistant/assassin, Luv (Sylvia Hoeks), to hunt for the origin of the child and unlock the key to the future of the species. As K embarks on his journey of self-discovery, all roads lead to Deckard (Harrison Ford), the blade runner who disappeared with Rachael (Sean Young) nearly 30 years ago. Does he hold the answers that K seeks? Or is the young blade runner doomed to a fate similar to Deckard himself? If you're a fan of this franchise, you already know the answer to that question.
We've pretty much known this to be the case since the first trailer arrived back in December, but Blade Runner 2049 is one of the most beautiful films to hit theaters this year. Nearly every review of this film, positive or negative, has at least admitted that the visuals are nothing short of astonishing. It feels slightly pointless to elaborate further, but no review of 2049 is complete without discussing how incredible this thing looks. The cinematography by 13-time Oscar-nominee Roger Deakins is out of this world, so crisp and clean and striking in its dystopian simplicity. While it lacks the cyberpunk grunge of Ridley Scott's 1982 original, Denis Villeneuve and Deakins expand the world with ease, taking us to a dusty, nuclear wasteland version of Las Vegas, a trash heap society on the outskirts of Los Angeles, and a farming world with very little vegetation left to sustain it. 2049 lacks the grimy spirit of the original, but its larger scope makes it an equally compelling watch.
Blade Runner 2049 is totally gorgeous, and I'll expand on some of the other things that make it such a thoroughly fascinating movie in a second. But it is worth noting- this is a slow, methodical film, one that isn't without its flaws. As frequently mentioned, this is a film that runs a staggering 2 hours and 44 minutes, making it one of the longest modern blockbusters not made by Christopher Nolan. Does it need that runtime? I don't really know. Part of what makes this such an interesting film is the way that it gives the story room to breathe, allowing the viewer to meander along with the characters and soak in the amazing visuals. I found myself wishing that Villeneuve would speed things up on a few occasions, but after a second viewing, I'll admit that the story being told here benefits from the epic length. But nonetheless, Blade Runner 2049 is not quite perfect, and even if you're a huge fan of this series and hard sci-fi, it's not exactly an easy viewing experience.
I say all this because I think so much of 2049's power comes from the way that it lingers, the way that it stays in your mind for days after you see it. Villeneuve has not crafted a traditional action blockbuster- this isn't a movie that delivers crowd-pleasing moments or scenes where fanboys are meant to cheer. No, Villeneuve asks his audience to think, to reflect, to ponder the images and the narrative that is being told. This is certainly a demanding film, no question about it. But by asking you to give quite a bit over to this film (time, energy, etc.), Villeneuve delivers the kind of thought-provoking work that is all too rare on this scale. Blade Runner 2049, like the best science fiction and like its iconic predecessor, finds staying power in its big ideas and immensely powerful themes. It's a visual feast and a good mystery movie, but that's not what you'll be thinking about after the credits roll.
As much as this is a story about finding Harrison Ford's Rick Deckard, this film does not belong to the original blade runner. This is K's story, and his tragic, consistently surprising arc made the movie for me. Ryan Gosling is one of my favorite actors working today, and from his humble origins as a dreamy teenage crush in The Notebook, he has branched out into comedies, musicals, and more to become one of the best actors working today. Judging by what we had seen from the trailers, Gosling's performance in 2049 appeared to veer closer to his collaborations with Nicolas Winding Refn, in which he played stoic, emotionless men grappling with their violent nature. With that in mind, it made sense for Gosling to play a replicant in the cold, sterile world of Blade Runner. More so than any other major actor working today, Gosling is able to channel the distinct mix of charm and moodiness that Ford achieved in the original.
But this performance is so much more than that. K is not the immediate successor of Deckard, and to compare the characters feels futile. It's a stroke of genius to announce K's status as a replicant right at the start, and it's perhaps even more brilliant to have his journey center around a desire to be human. And so while Gosling's performance has the air of stoicism that he typically brings to his macho characters, there's something else going on here, something much more childlike. Gosling hits the jackpot with this performance, channeling a perfect mixture of emotional yearning and traumatic anger. K is convinced that he's the chosen one, the son of Rick Deckard and Rachael who has the potential to change the world and re-shape the order of things. It's only when the film reveals its biggest twist that Blade Runner 2049 moves from being a typical hero's journey to a clever deconstruction of blockbuster cinema's favorite trope. The twist is jarring, but makes sense in the grand scheme of the narrative.
Gosling is the focal point of Fancher and Green's excellent screenplay, but he's supported by a cast where pretty much every single actor knocks it out of the park. Harrison Ford could have phoned it in here, but instead, I think it's fair to say that he deserves an Oscar nomination for this performance. He certainly maintains his gruff charm, but there's a broken spirit to Deckard in this film that feels so truly perfect. Despite all of the hate from fans on the internet, Jared Leto is genuinely terrific in what basically amounts to a two-scene cameo, creating a character with Wallace who is as magnetic as he is terrifying. Ana de Armas makes the absolute most of her surprising turn as Joi, and there's a scene with her, Gosling, and Mackenzie Davis that is jaw-dropping. Sylvia Hoeks is brilliant, and I've already read some pieces that position her as the film's most fascinating creation. And if you listen closely, I think Robin Wright drops some of the most compelling psychological nuggets in what is ultimately an excellent performance.
If the original was rambling and inconclusive in its philosophical ideas, Blade Runner 2049 emerges as a film with a remarkably clear vision. Sure, Villeneuve, Fancher, and Green all leave room for plenty of ambiguity in both the direction and the script. We still don't get an answer on the age old question of "Is Deckard a replicant?" And that's because I believe the film settles on the idea that it doesn't matter. We've been asking the wrong question. In a way, 2049's central idea is truly chilling- and maybe illuminating in an unexpected way. Blade Runner 2049 ultimately seems to believe that the difference between humans and replicants is made up. The only differences between the two groups are social ones, distinctions bound by the order of society that Lieutenant Joshi wants so badly to maintain. But humans and replicants were both created and designed, whether by God, nature, or the inner workings of Tyrell and Wallace's laboratories. This epic struggle between man and machine, these cultural walls, the desire for rebellion by a revolutionary segment of the replicant class- it's all an unnecessary product of the myth of order.
What if humanity isn't defined by biology so much as it is by our own actions? K, and seemingly every other replicant ever created, feels human without knowing what to do with that feeling. In one of the most critical scenes in the film, Villeneuve gives us the film's biggest twist, while also setting up a large-scale uprising by the replicants against the human establishment. It's what you would expect from this film, and it's the war that Joshi predicted earlier, the total destruction of the barriers that previously existed. But instead of bringing us this battle, the film goes small, turning its attention to completing K's story and bringing Deckard's narrative to some kind of a conclusion. Destroying the order of society won't make K human, nor will killing Deckard (as one of the revolutionaries instructs him to do). The most human thing K can do is to show empathy, to commit a selfless act in order to right a tremendous wrong. And for Deckard, the question of his origin as a human or replicant is utterly pointless as long as he's reunited with the daughter that he lost so long ago.
Blade Runner 2049's ending is nothing short of magnificent, and it's what solidifies the film as being truly unforgettable in my eyes. After Villeneuve spends so much time crafting a hard-boiled, grim procedural, the story cracks open to reveal an unexpected emotional core. Sci-fi films that deal with big ideas often tackle them in objective ways- even the original Blade Runner doesn't pack any kind of emotional punch. But as evidenced by last year's Arrival, Villeneuve isn't afraid to delve deep into that territory, and he creates an absolutely devastating and profoundly touching ending. For Gosling's K, it represents the tragic end of a journey, the successful culmination of the most human act any replicant can commit. For Deckard, it's the conclusion of three decades on the run, 30 years of hiding from the forces that destroyed his life. As K lies dying in the snow while Deckard puts his hand on that glass window, it's hard not to feel that we're seeing one of the most indelible conclusions in sci-fi history.
Watching Blade Runner 2049 is not always easy, but it's one of the most powerful films I've seen all year. It's a brilliant conversation piece, the kind of movie that will get people talking and allow them to reach a variety of different conclusions. But it's also striking in the way that it creates a mood, one simultaneously filled with hope and dread, catharsis and tragedy. Filled with complex ideas and awe-inspiring images, Blade Runner 2049 is a blockbuster for the ages, a film where I feel that I've barely cracked the surface of its infinite pleasures and vast mysteries. And frankly, that is unbelievably exciting.
In an era where so many big-budget films suffer from a bland kind of sameness, Villeneuve has delivered something that deliberately avoids every cliche in the book. There's no cheesy action or faux philosophical posturing- this is a stone-cold brilliant piece of filmmaking, overflowing with ideas and led by a director at the top of his game. Two of the best performances of the year, a visual feast, an astonishing score from Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Walfisch, and an unforgettable ending- Blade Runner 2049 is a sci-fi sequel for the ages.
THE FINAL GRADE: A (9/10)
Images courtesy of Warner Bros. Pictures
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