Tag: bud yorkin

Blade Runner (1982)

I’ve Seen The Future And It Will Be

***This Review Contains Spoilers***

I often hear similar stories of people’s first experiences watching Blade Runner, finding the film dull but coming to appreciate it years later – my story has the same trajectory. I first tried to watch Blade Runner (of what I believe was The Final Cut) on TV in Christmas 2009, only to stop watching after half an hour due to boredom. Over the years, however, I would be compelled to return to Blade Runner several times and get more out of it with each viewing. The tech-noir world of Blade Runner is one to get lost in with its use of neon and many billboards of geishas, albeit a more depressing, dystopian one than say that of Star Wars; one in which the city of Los Angeles appears to be stuck in a state of perpetual darkness and it very frequently rains. Now when watching Blade Runner, I’m watching a movie set in the past date of November, 2019. Once again, like Star Wars, the technology present is highly contradictory, this is a world in which flying cars exist and photographs have unimaginably high pixel counts, yet they still use CRT televisions and mobile phones don’t appear to exist. It contradictions like these which we can observe in the real world just adds to the unique and fantasy aspect of the Blade Runner universe. 

The visual style of Blade Runner has since become a massive cliché – often imitated but never equaled. It feels like every shot or background prop has a story to tell such as those many photographs in Rick Deckard’s apartment. The man-cave interior of Deckard’s apartment is perfectly suited to his loner personality, a classic world-weary noir protagonist. The film’s blurring of the lines between what is human and what is machine results in me always having to remind myself that these replicants of whose plight I’ve drawn emotional investment towards, are not humans at the end of the day. Why should I feel sorry for the vulnerable replicant Rachael with her smudged eye makeup created from her tears? Blade Runner provokes many a thought of what it means to be human. I suspect the appearance of Rachael must have come about from a desire to create an ideal woman since nobody else in Blade Runner casually dresses like a 1940’s femme fatale (I haven’t heard of anyone else note Rachael has a strong resemblance to Rosalind Russell in My Sister Eileen from 1942). Likewise, I don’t want to know if Deckard is a replicant or not, I prefer the ambiguity and the mystery along with the many unanswered questions of this universe. 

The love scene between Deckard and Rachael is one of the greatest in cinema history. The sexual tension builds up as a shirtless Deckard wipes away the blood of his face and Rachael lets her hair loose. Subsequently, the manner in which Deckard prevents Rachael from leaving the apartment as he shuts the door with his fist and then proceeds to kiss her along with the saxophone solo from the love them being as close to cheesy as it can get without it being so, brings the swoon factor up to 11. My shallow desires just wish the extended, deleted version of the scene was left in any of the version of the film (in the 80’s Sean Young got to have a sex scene with both Harrison Ford and Kevin Costner).

The effects of globalization as seen in Blade Runner present L.A. (or at the very least one portion of the city) having Japanese inhabitants as the majority population. If the filmmakers were intending to make accurate predictions of the future, the world of Blade Runner would be more likely dominated by Chinese influence. What Blade Runner does reflect accurately about our modern world is the increasingly oppressive corporate culture and the surveillance of everyday life. There are no evident signs of government in Blade Runner yet corporations rule the roast as the Mayan pyramid-shaped headquarters of the Tyrell Corporation dominates the skyline. Like Cyberdyne Systems in The Terminator and Omni Consumer Products in Robocop, 1980’s pulp sci-fi tried to warn us of the dangers of unbridled corporate power. Such power is seen turning in on itself as the film’s corporate overlord, the slimy, dubious Eldon Tyrell with his magnificent glasses succumbs to a gruesome death in the only moment of the film in which I want to avert my eyes from the screen in a classic case of the Frankenstein monster turning on its creator. It’s little often pointed out that Tyrell’s death is very similar to the murder of Mr. Gaines in The Manchurian Candidate (1962). In both films, the murders take place at night in the victim’s bedroom as they are lying in bed reading. Both characters are wearing a robe while having a chessboard, statues of animals and candles next to their beds.

Lucas and Spielberg gave special editions a bad name, but Ridley Scott’s Final Cut of Blade Runner actually shows they have a place (providing the option of viewing the original still exists). There are no pointless CGI additions and it fixes the niggling technical flaws of the original such as the shot of Roy Batty’s dove flying towards the sky. While I appreciate the Final Cut, there is a charm to those imperfections of the original, showing that even the masters can make mistakes. I will also defend the voice-over narration present in the theatrical version. It’s not up to the poetic quality of Fred MacMurray in Double Indemnity and is hokey but I find it endearingly so and does make the plot easier to follow and gives the film a bit more character (plus we get to hear Harrison Ford drop the “N” word).

Blade Runner is by no means a nihilistic film, rather it is one that shows beauty in despair (the original ending shows that green pastures apparently still exist in this world of ecological ruin). This display of goodness, truth and beauty culminates in Roy Batty’s final 42 word Tears In The Rain monologue, as the obviously Christ-like figure conjures magnificent images of Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion and C-beams glittering in the dark near the Tannhäuser Gate to the magnificent score by Vangelis. The Blade Runner soundtrack is one of the few film scores in which I can listen to the entire thing (even John Williams Ladd Company jingle is awe-inspiring). It is the perfect accompaniment to walking down any urban landscapes at night (I can recall multiple mornings when I would listen to Tears In The Rain as the sun would rise back when I worked night shifts) as oneself reflects over its romantic nature and harkens for nostalgia, often and like the replicants in the movie, for memories we don’t even have. 

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Start the Revolution Without Me (1970)

Revolution 1789

To my surprise Start the Revolution Without Me begins with none other than Orson Welles introducing the film as well as narrating it; this along with the stylistic opening credits featuring footage of John Barrymore in Don Juan I know I had to be in for a treat. Start the Revolution Without Me is largely unheard of but surely paved the way for other large-scale historical comedies of the 70’s and 80’s from the likes of Monty Python and Mel Brooks; a type of film comedy which is long extinct. The recurring repetition of the date “1789” in the narration has vibes of Monty Python while the film’s ending reminds me of that from Monty Python and the Holy Grail. Likewise, the film is probably the closest thing to a spoof of costume dramas; think the costume drama getting the Mel Brooks treatment. The film includes references to works of fiction including A Tale of Two Cities, The Corsican Brothers and The Man in the Iron Mask (portrayed here as a bumbling fool). With the film’s historical references, King Louis XVI is a slow-witted cuckold and Marie Antoinette is portrayed as a nymphomaniac.

The production spared no expense getting the shoot in actual historical locations in France. You would think they would only allow such locations for more dignified films, not a slapstick comedy. The film itself is as lavish as any big-budget costume drama but not in tone of course. Costume pictures are always a genre I’ve struggled with, dare I say I find them dull with characters I can’t identify with or care about; you know, rich people problems. Thus there’s a sense of satisfaction seeing the genre turned into a slapstick farce. Not only do you get an impressive display of madcap physical comedy, but you even get some swashbuckling action with Gene Wilder getting the opportunity to display his abilities as a swordsman.

Gene Wilder and Donald Sutherland play two sets of identical twins who are accidentally switched at birth resulting in an aristocrat with a false brother who was supposed to be born into life as a peasant and vice versa. I get the impression Sutherland plays the twins intended to be aristocrats as they seem more comfortable and in tune with the lifestyle than the two twins played by Wilder. Mistaken identity humour is often looked down upon but it makes laugh whenever it is done well. Start the Revolution Without is inspired zaniness if I’ve ever seen it.