As further explored in the Fifth Element, Blade Runner demonstrates that as society advances into the future, chicks dress sluttier and sluttier. Daryl Hannah’s character, in keeping with the times (2019), is sartorially confined to revealing outfits throughout the entire film. A near-naked Hannah, might have seemed provocative to audiences in early 1982, but flashing forward two years to Hannah’s performance in Splash, and then on to the next six films where Hannah appears naked, it becomes pretty obvious to the aged audience that Hannah was most likely wearing a push-up when she appeared as Pris Stratton, the “basic pleasure model” robot, alongside Harrison Ford, in Ridley Scott’s sci-fi epic.
But this futuristic crime drama about a cop whose job is to hunt down fugitive, robotic humans created and enslaved to manually serve real humans, isn’t about tits. It’s, shockingly, not even about the ethical repercussions that arise from synthetically manufacturing life. It’s really about death and how we (both human and robot) are afraid of it. We don’t want to be nothing. We don’t want all our memories and thoughts and feelings to dissipate like everything else in the world. We would prefer to live forever.
For the first 75-minutes of this movie, I thought for sure Blade Runner was going to dribble down the same path that dozens of others movies have already warn thin (A.i.; Bicentennial Man; The Stepford Wives; I, Robot, to name a few). But, really, the theme of the movie can be summed up with the words Edward James Olmos eerily shouts at Harrison Ford right before Ford frantically rushes to the aid of Rachael, the female robot he loves, “It’s too bad she won’t life, but, then again, who does?”
I hope Ridley Scott's upcoming Robin Hood remake is half this good. THUMBS UP!
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