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Arts & Entertainment / Re: Just Watched
« on: May 21, 2020, 03:35:17 AM »
These reviews were written two days apart and I don't really care to modify them for reading one right after the other. Also I know they kinda suck (especially the first one since I was falling asleep writing it) but I enjoy writing them, so suck it.
Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982)
Full disclosure: This is my first viewing, and the version I watched was Ridley's Final Cut.
What is a man? Some would say a brain; some would say a soul; some would say a miserable little pile of secrets. But enough talk. If one programs a robot to feel pain, is that pain devalued just because it's an automatic sensory response? Is that not what our nervous system is? The line between human and automaton is infamously blurry, and while Blade Runner doesn't dig too deep into the questions and answers, it does portray a rather vivid image of the struggle.
Ridley's vision of the distant future of 2019 is one of a corporate stranglehold, rampant class inequality, advertisement permeating every aspect of our society, a constant struggle just to live. If it weren't for the robots and cyberpunk aesthetic, it would basically be spot on. I'm always fascinated by the run-down dystopian future in film, because, while it never seems to come to pass, it does a fantastic job at being a visceral representation of the fears and problems of the time: a way to shine a spotlight on issues and magnify them to really make things clear.
This film's cinematography is interesting in how much of it lies in darkness. Color mostly serves as a contrast to the dark, dingy atmosphere surrounding it. We see shot after shot of tan and brown alleyways full of garbage, filthy urban decor and towering steel spires spewing flame and gas into the atmosphere. The main sources of color are extravagant. Neon lights, Coca-Cola signs flashing on the sides of housing, LED billboards flying above the city. But most of the film settles firmly in darkness, characters conversing in dimly-lit rooms or sneaking between shadows in hunter vs hunter standoffs. It's a beautiful, unique contrast.
There's an interesting theme of eyes that runs through the movie, as well. Whether they're exposing someone as a replicant, leading the way to the next target, being used as rhetorical devices, or simply getting gouged out, there's a very obvious fixation on them. We meet the man who designs the replicants' perfect eyes, and we also meet the man (Tyrell) who designed the replicants and has to rely on trifocals. I'm sure there's a point about being overly reliant on technology in there somewhere.
I could cover more of the film, but it's been done a million times and by people far more qualified and talented than myself. I came in expecting a nice-looking action film, came out having gotten a very good piece of art. Blade Runner holds up almost forty years later in terms of being a film and in terms of visuals (hell, I'd argue it looks better than a lot of modern films) and is very much still worth a watch.
Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve, 2017)
Small notice: minor spoilers ahead.
The struggle of the sequel, especially one so far removed from its forebear, is how to continue the story without being derivative. Most movies in Blade Runner 2049's shoes do so by paying homage in the form of constant lip service, a stream of "hey, remember how this was a thing?" that ultimately kneecaps their ability to have a story and stand on their own. 2049 makes the smart move of crafting its own story, but showing its love for the original in the form of continuing and expanding on its themes.
I only just saw the 1982 film last night, so I have no nostalgia for it. That being said, I can understand where a diehard fan of the original might feel a little differently for this one. Where the original film is a mostly fast-paced sci-fi film with a good chunk of action, its sequel is contented to move at a much slower, more pensive pace. At almost a full hour longer than the original, I could see how its pacing could feel almost laborious in comparison. I'm not of the mind that a sequel should try to adhere to the same pace, style, and story of the original. I think 2049 is not only brave, but does a fantastic job in looking at the topics and the world borne by the original and examining them through a different lens: that of a film more interested in digging into the meat of these themes, breaking them down and making you wonder.
The idea of humanity and what makes one a "person" is the prime example. Where the film prior was interested in raising the question and exploring it on the surface–letting you dissect it if you want–that very question is at the core of the new film. Is a replicant a person? What if it was born, does that make it more real? What about a hologram? If it displays emotion, seems to think and feel, respond to you, is it real? What if it's designed to do that, what if it's a facade? Where does any of this begin and end? 2049 doesn't even try to make a judgment on any of these questions, but it does demand that you consider them.
Another theme carried over from the 1982 work is that of eyes, and everything they represent. Serial numbers are put on the underside of the right eye; the nu-Tyrell (played creepily by Jared Leto) is blind and using small drones to see; as well as a few other nods throughout. They even made sure there was a strange, rapey scene of questionable purpose in the sequel as well! Speaking of strange rapey things, I'm not sure how I feel about Jared Leto's character, Niander Wallace. He doesn't seem to serve much of a purpose other than being a sort of glue to give the film an antagonist. Where Tyrell served as an explanation and a living macguffin, Wallace serves to...occasionally touch people, say things menacingly, and talk about getting replicants pregnant so he can take over the stars. Which, fine, but...none of that ends up mattering or serving any purpose.
To use that as a jumping off point, if there's one major flaw this film has it is one of exposition. My favorite thing about the original Blade Runner is that a whole lot was left for the audience to figure out (reminder: I watched The Final Cut, so I didn't suffer through any narration or exposition dumps), whereas it feels very much like director Denis Villeneuve doesn't trust that we can follow along with anything. There are more than a few direct explanations of fairly obvious insinuations, and one flashback to scenes prior too many.
Exposition aside, this truly is a beautiful film, both on a cinematographic level, a story level, and a thematic level. Beautiful to look at, but even just watching and listening to characters interact is a treat. The romance in it is as heart-wrenching as the original's, and Ryan Gosling delivers a stellar performance somehow more emotionally reserved than Ford's Deckard 40 years ago, both when visceral emotion is required he claws at your heart and begs for your empathy, like a lost child. I feel like with a hand more willing to excise unnecessary scenes and dialogue, this film could have surpassed the original, but even with its problems I would say it still lands on the same footing. It's one of the most worthy sequels I've seen, and it more than earns its right to be loved as its own fantastic piece of art.
Blade Runner (Ridley Scott, 1982)
Full disclosure: This is my first viewing, and the version I watched was Ridley's Final Cut.
What is a man? Some would say a brain; some would say a soul; some would say a miserable little pile of secrets. But enough talk. If one programs a robot to feel pain, is that pain devalued just because it's an automatic sensory response? Is that not what our nervous system is? The line between human and automaton is infamously blurry, and while Blade Runner doesn't dig too deep into the questions and answers, it does portray a rather vivid image of the struggle.
Ridley's vision of the distant future of 2019 is one of a corporate stranglehold, rampant class inequality, advertisement permeating every aspect of our society, a constant struggle just to live. If it weren't for the robots and cyberpunk aesthetic, it would basically be spot on. I'm always fascinated by the run-down dystopian future in film, because, while it never seems to come to pass, it does a fantastic job at being a visceral representation of the fears and problems of the time: a way to shine a spotlight on issues and magnify them to really make things clear.
This film's cinematography is interesting in how much of it lies in darkness. Color mostly serves as a contrast to the dark, dingy atmosphere surrounding it. We see shot after shot of tan and brown alleyways full of garbage, filthy urban decor and towering steel spires spewing flame and gas into the atmosphere. The main sources of color are extravagant. Neon lights, Coca-Cola signs flashing on the sides of housing, LED billboards flying above the city. But most of the film settles firmly in darkness, characters conversing in dimly-lit rooms or sneaking between shadows in hunter vs hunter standoffs. It's a beautiful, unique contrast.
There's an interesting theme of eyes that runs through the movie, as well. Whether they're exposing someone as a replicant, leading the way to the next target, being used as rhetorical devices, or simply getting gouged out, there's a very obvious fixation on them. We meet the man who designs the replicants' perfect eyes, and we also meet the man (Tyrell) who designed the replicants and has to rely on trifocals. I'm sure there's a point about being overly reliant on technology in there somewhere.
I could cover more of the film, but it's been done a million times and by people far more qualified and talented than myself. I came in expecting a nice-looking action film, came out having gotten a very good piece of art. Blade Runner holds up almost forty years later in terms of being a film and in terms of visuals (hell, I'd argue it looks better than a lot of modern films) and is very much still worth a watch.
Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve, 2017)
Small notice: minor spoilers ahead.
The struggle of the sequel, especially one so far removed from its forebear, is how to continue the story without being derivative. Most movies in Blade Runner 2049's shoes do so by paying homage in the form of constant lip service, a stream of "hey, remember how this was a thing?" that ultimately kneecaps their ability to have a story and stand on their own. 2049 makes the smart move of crafting its own story, but showing its love for the original in the form of continuing and expanding on its themes.
I only just saw the 1982 film last night, so I have no nostalgia for it. That being said, I can understand where a diehard fan of the original might feel a little differently for this one. Where the original film is a mostly fast-paced sci-fi film with a good chunk of action, its sequel is contented to move at a much slower, more pensive pace. At almost a full hour longer than the original, I could see how its pacing could feel almost laborious in comparison. I'm not of the mind that a sequel should try to adhere to the same pace, style, and story of the original. I think 2049 is not only brave, but does a fantastic job in looking at the topics and the world borne by the original and examining them through a different lens: that of a film more interested in digging into the meat of these themes, breaking them down and making you wonder.
The idea of humanity and what makes one a "person" is the prime example. Where the film prior was interested in raising the question and exploring it on the surface–letting you dissect it if you want–that very question is at the core of the new film. Is a replicant a person? What if it was born, does that make it more real? What about a hologram? If it displays emotion, seems to think and feel, respond to you, is it real? What if it's designed to do that, what if it's a facade? Where does any of this begin and end? 2049 doesn't even try to make a judgment on any of these questions, but it does demand that you consider them.
Another theme carried over from the 1982 work is that of eyes, and everything they represent. Serial numbers are put on the underside of the right eye; the nu-Tyrell (played creepily by Jared Leto) is blind and using small drones to see; as well as a few other nods throughout. They even made sure there was a strange, rapey scene of questionable purpose in the sequel as well! Speaking of strange rapey things, I'm not sure how I feel about Jared Leto's character, Niander Wallace. He doesn't seem to serve much of a purpose other than being a sort of glue to give the film an antagonist. Where Tyrell served as an explanation and a living macguffin, Wallace serves to...occasionally touch people, say things menacingly, and talk about getting replicants pregnant so he can take over the stars. Which, fine, but...none of that ends up mattering or serving any purpose.
To use that as a jumping off point, if there's one major flaw this film has it is one of exposition. My favorite thing about the original Blade Runner is that a whole lot was left for the audience to figure out (reminder: I watched The Final Cut, so I didn't suffer through any narration or exposition dumps), whereas it feels very much like director Denis Villeneuve doesn't trust that we can follow along with anything. There are more than a few direct explanations of fairly obvious insinuations, and one flashback to scenes prior too many.
Exposition aside, this truly is a beautiful film, both on a cinematographic level, a story level, and a thematic level. Beautiful to look at, but even just watching and listening to characters interact is a treat. The romance in it is as heart-wrenching as the original's, and Ryan Gosling delivers a stellar performance somehow more emotionally reserved than Ford's Deckard 40 years ago, both when visceral emotion is required he claws at your heart and begs for your empathy, like a lost child. I feel like with a hand more willing to excise unnecessary scenes and dialogue, this film could have surpassed the original, but even with its problems I would say it still lands on the same footing. It's one of the most worthy sequels I've seen, and it more than earns its right to be loved as its own fantastic piece of art.
