Tears in Rain
A tribute to one of cinema’s true science fiction masterpieces, Blade Runner.
Written by Marios Damoulianos
Spoiler Alert: If you have not watched the film, please do so before you continue reading as there are numerous spoilers. Also, it is advisable to watch either the Director’s or Final cut as these are much closer to the intentions of its creators.
The Father
Philip K. Dick (1928-1982): Prolific science fiction writer, one of the most (if not the most) influential and recognisable writers of the genre. And this tribute could not begin with anything other than a mention to him because he is the writer of “Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?” the novel that forms the backbone of the setting and scenario of Ridley Scott’s 1982 film “Blade Runner”. Dick, mostly posthumously, has lent his writing talent to more films than any other science fiction writer, and by a big margin – at least 12 films have been based on his work, either closely or loosely. The reason behind this impressive feat is that Dick’s writing is profoundly ground-braking, in ways that go far beyond the usual themes of science fiction. Consequently, when in search for quality and novel science fiction material, one just cannot overlook his work. Philip Dick’s novels and short stories have a unique quality of raising questions that subvert and expose to scrutiny the foundations of our perceptions (or should we say preconceptions?) about reality, consciousness and eventually everything that is tied with what can be called “the human condition” raising existential issues and bringing them to a light cast upon them by the constant development of technology. Thus, it is not by chance that Dick has been proclaimed the “Shakespeare of the science fiction world”. Dick, through his writings, embarked on inquisitive journeys of wild imagination without ever hesitating to enter sanctuaries of belief, knowledge and fact, and place question marks over everything he found there. Letting alone his literary ability and wild (some might say too wild) imagination, for this element alone he deserves to be considered a true master of literature.
The Child
Blade Runner, based on the novel mentioned above and directed by critically-acclaimed Ridley Scott, was shot in 1982. The background of the story is set on an extensively polluted and overpopulated Earth in the near future. It goes along the lines that a small group of four replicants, genetically-engineered artificial forms of life that look identical to humans, has hijacked a spaceship and has made a trip to Earth. Replicants are utilised as slaves in various uses on colonies but because of their potentially unstable psychological nature and frequent violent outbreaks they have been banned on Earth. So, despite their almost having reached the end of their deliberately engineered 4-year-long lifespan, the presence of this particular group there is unwanted. According to the story, this fact dictates the employment of an initially unwilling but eventually compliant former “Blade Runner” namely Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford) who is considered to be the best. Blade Runners are agents whose sole purpose is to hunt and exterminate replicants on Earth, in a process conveniently named as “retirement”. The group of replicants is led by Roy Batty, played by an unforgettably imposing Rutger Hauer, who being a combat model adds to making the destruction of the group particularly troublesome. As the story unfolds, the viewer discovers the reason behind the perilous journey the replicants have embarked on, all the while watching Deckard’s occasionally desperate efforts to track and execute them. As a piece of utter irony, through a parallel side-story Deckard becomes romantically involved with another replicant, Rachael (played by an excellently characterful Sean Young) who is not part of the aforementioned group. Intriguingly, and perhaps importantly, she is not initially aware of her being a replicant and thinks she is a normal human instead.
There are various themes present in Blade Runner. Overpopulation or pollution are the most blatant, however, most of these are not directly commented on – they are rather used as a canvas to set the story on. Another interesting background feature of the film is its closeness to Cyberpunk, the style of science fiction literature that was just beginning to appear at that time. The vast city sprawl constantly teeming with a a thick and nameless crowd and the rise of megacorporations to prominence certainly pay a certain degree of homage to it. Another very interesting element of the film, actually one of its landmarks, is the method Blade Runners have to examine subjects suspected of being replicants: the “Voight-Kampff test”, which comprises of a set of questions engineered in a way to trigger physically observable emotional responses on the subjects. The sequences in which the viewer has the opportunity to witness the method in action have a particular tension that help create some of the film’s most memorable scenes.
So, at first glance, Blade Runner appears to be a beautifully shot science-fiction police drama with strong “noir” overtones, and a viewer could have a good time just by watching Deckard’s romance unfold or his adventurous exploits against the rogue group of replicants that roam about San Francisco seeking their goal. The film can be enjoyable on that level alone: There’s plenty of drama involving a lot of strange and colorful characters, investigations and deadly violence which all help keep the unaware viewer occupied, and the ever present combination of beautiful cinematography with evocative music will keep all their senses equally entertained as well.
The Artificer’s Questions
A big part of the value of the film however goes beyond what is directly shown on the screen or played by the sound system. The less obvious elements begin with a series of tantalizing questions of tremendous philosophical scope and range. For the first of these questions, it only requires a single assumption to be made in order for this question to be rendered visible. This necessary assumption is that consciousness and sentience are only the direct results of the mechanisms and processes of the subject organism/mechanism. It is of course beyond the scope of this text to ascertain the accuracy and validity of such a claim, but still, it can be said that there is plenty of evidence to support it (for example, why can chemical substances, elements of pure mechanical scope and function alter our perception and state of consciousness?). Thus the above assumption can at least be kept within a range of plausible approaches to explaining consciousness, something that adds a good degree of plausibility and substance to the rest of what follows below.
So, if this assumption is regarded as being close to reality, a whole new avenue to viewing the relationship between self-consciousness and machines opens. Because, if consciousness is the direct result of mechanical (meaning based on physics and chemistry) processes -regardless of how convoluted and intricate these processes are- then nothing stands between this and the abstraction, i.e. the deductive generalization that the manifestation and thus existence of the process becomes independent of the medium which makes it happen. To put it in other words, if the notion that “for consciousness to be reached only a required level of targeted structuring of processes is required” is correct then consciousness becomes essentially irrelevant to the specifics of how this process structure actually works. So, based on this assumption, in the end it becomes apparent that a machine, given that a certain level of suitable process structuring can be achieved, could become self-conscious in the very same way that a human can, regardless of the elementary nature of the particular mechanisms that synthesise it.
Philip K. Dick’s mentality strongly connects itself with the above discussion. Even if the reason of transferring the Shakespearean issues described further below to the replicants is to use them as human caricatures, or in other words just a means of putting humans at a distance so they can be more easily examined, (a classic science fiction approach) the more someone credits importance to the above issues, the more Blade Runner becomes a work of art that has a serious willingness to put these issues on the table and make a case out of them. And in doing so, the film unavoidably questions the preconceptions (or even arrogance?) that humans have in assuming their carbon-based life system as the only system that can produce self-consciousness or sentience and thus the only system that should be protected by any moral code against cruelty or other forms of abuse. So, the notion of utilising self-conscious beings as slaves bypassing any such code raises certain questions on the morality of such an attitude and gives strong justification to the depiction of the replicants as vengefully violent and cruel.
Shakespeare
However, “Do androids dream of electric sheep” goes beyond the discussion about if an artificial creation can be regarded as being able to have consciousness and/or sentience. The real intellectual -and perhaps emotional- value of Dick’s work (and therefore that of Blade Runner) lies in that the replicants exhibit behaviour that resembles humans at the deepest of levels – the ability (and should one say the need?) to have and express existential fears and questions. Through the course of the film the viewer discovers that the purpose of the replicants’ trip to Earth, is to meet their maker and seek answers to their questions on mortality. They want to meet their maker and ask questions about their death. Simply put, this film is so bold, that the viewer witnesses the deepest of all of humans’ questions being uttered by some artificial creations. Eventually the replicants do manage to meet him, the scientist-became-tycoon Dr Tyrell, and most notably, in a blatantly religious setting: It all happens in Dr Tyrell’s private chambers, (the house of their creator) which is a big dark room, exquisitely ornamented and lit by candles, in a clearly deliberate effort to reminisce a church. There, they ask their questions demanding answers, the most important of which of course is: why does their existence have to end and how can they prolong it, perhaps indefinitely, reaching immortality.
Of course, no direct answer is given. What matters here is that the artificial sentient machines in the film, upon realisation of the inevitability of their death and the absolute temporariness of their existence, come to confront the tragic aspect of their being, just like humans: The replicants seem to be asking themselves the same questions as us: “Why should I be here, and enjoy or suffer? What is the point of my existence? My feelings and my experiences define me – actually my whole being is defined by my experiences and feelings, so they have a worth all of their own – but what happens to all this treasure once I am gone? What is the true value of all my joy and happiness, all my pain and grief, everything that I have felt and everything that I have understood and learnt since inevitably, one day I will cease to exist?” All these questions are asked in the film, and most remarkably not just in an indirect or otherwise abstract manner but are given a spotlight of lasertight focus, at a moment of utterly poetic cinematography that creates an unforgettable blend of striking imagery with words of profound meaning: Roy Batty’s dying soliloquy, spoken moments before his passing. It goes like this:
“I’ve seen things… you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I’ve watched their c-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser Gate. All those moments… will be lost in time…. like… tears in rain…. Time to die.”
Arguably, this is the highest of all moments in this film. To Rutger Hauer’s credit, the night before the shot he decided to say this particular line instead of the original one found in the screenplay. According to him, he did it because the original was too verbose and lacked the precision and poetic quality required for such a powerful moment.
Whatever the case, this small bunch of words conveys the deep agony of the awareness of death perhaps most successfully than any other similar attempt in the history of cinema. It may be worth noting that this agony is not expressed as much as a pain stemming from the lack of continuation or impossibility of immortality – it is rather expressed as a sorrow that what preceded death will lose its worth and wither in the darkness of non-existence – “all these moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.”
Again, the catch here, which broadens the scope of the approach and essentially is the catch of the whole film if viewed from a certain angle, is that the words are not spoken by a human… but by an artificial creation, a replicant. And in this way the sharp knife of existential questions is lifted from the realm of purely human matters and instead, is driven deep in the core of the meaning of any notion of self-awareness itself.
Subject and Identity: The Meaning of the Communion
As if the above wasn’t enough there’s even more: Very intriguingly, Deckard’s situations or predicaments seem to be symbolically shadowed by the police captain’s assistant, namely Gaff, whose practical role is no more than merely being a chauffeur. Occasionally however, Gaff exhibits a habit of leaving small pieces of origami or other handcraft which function as symbols describing an aspect of Deckard’s psychology, sometimes even before he is even aware of it. When Deckard tries to refuse accepting the mission given to him, Gaff creates a chicken origami, pointing towards his fear. After he meets Rachael but before there is any romance, Gaff uses a match to create a male figure with an erection…. and the last and most intriguing one, is a unicorn origami that Deckard finds outside his door just before his getaway with Rachael. The issue here is that earlier in the film, a unicorn appears in a dreamlike vision that Deckard has right after waking up from a momentary nap. Perhaps intentionally, the viewer is unable to tell whether this vision is a dream, just an imaginary scene or a memory. So, how could this assistant be capable of knowing what kind of visions Deckard has? It may be useful to remind here that according to one of Tyrell’s experiments, some replicants (including Rachael) were given memories of real humans in an effort to make them emotionally stable and thus more controllable. The obvious catch here is that these memories are known to their creators, so Gaff’s unicorn origami creates the suspicion is that Deckard is probably a replicant as well. There is absolutely no dialogue spoken or any action taken about it, which leaves it as a totally sidelined suspicion. Beyond the obvious tease that this is, the reason why it is important is because it also has some interesting philosophical ramifications: It reminds us of the classic problem of the subject, which is none other than one’s inability to objectively judge, assess and evaluate himself. It is a widely accepted truth among psychologists, philosophers and other scholars that there can be no truly objective evaluation of the self and it can only be done comparatively, i.e. by using an outside node of comparison, something to help set a system of reference, which the self can be placed and examined upon. Even then it is exceptionally difficult because there is always the question about the objectivity of the reference system itself. When Rachael asks Deckard if he has ever taken the Voight Kampff test himself, there is no answer because he has fallen asleep. His sleep may very well be a symbolic depiction of his oblivious state towards a question that is about his own nature. So, in a way, since the viewer will naturally tend to identify with Deckard, the questions raised receive an unsettling course that leads directly to them. It is like: “Are you, the viewer a replicant? By definition, you are unable to tell. So, in general, can you tell what you really are? No. You have to compare yourself to others or be given information about it from the outside. So you need others to even define yourself, and by doing so you admit that your existence is assigned a shape and a meaning because of the existence of others.” Extending this course of thinking, it can also be said: “The reward of this dependence is that by doing so you partake in the creation of a communion, a pool of common knowledge which can be used for performing the measurement and qualitative evaluation of the characteristics that define you and everybody else. You are not just a passive member – your actions can add to forming the whole group.”
Lending interesting support to the above hypothesis is the fact that the main contributors to the film have controversial approaches to this matter. Harrison Ford, insists that Deckard must be a human: During an interview he stated: “I thought the audience deserved one human being on screen that they could establish an emotional relationship with.” Ridley Scott on the other hand stands on opposite ground insisting that Deckard is a replicant while the screenwriter Hampton Fancher stands in the middle having stated that “I like asking the question and I like it to be asked but I think it’s nonsense to answer it. That’s not interesting to me.” Fancher’s answer is the most interesting because what would be the reason behind the question being interesting but the answer not?
Love and Death
Last, but not least, it should also be noted that the juxtaposition of death and love/sexuality, a theme as old as literature itself, is abundantly evident in this film as well. Two of the replicants, Roy Batty and Pris, are involved in an ambiguously-natured relationship, another one, Zhora, performs as a strip-dancer in the role of Salome – the biblical female that symbolises dangerous female seductiveness and of course, there is the romantic relationship that develops between detective Deckard and his replicant love interest, Rachael. This affair receives a fairly substantial amount of time and directive effort and energy, resulting in many beautiful scenes. The purpose of this investment however, is not light sentimentality. For one thing, Deckard’s relationship isn’t easy in itself – difficult realizations question its very foundations from the beginning, and the threat of death overshadows it all along the way: Early in the film, Rachael saves him from certain death during an encounter between him and Leon, one of the rogue replicants. Later, just before their romance commences, Rachael asks Deckard about what he would do if he eventually had to hunt her down and kill her. Finally, Deckard and Rachael make their getaway in fear of being killed by other Blade Runners because at that point it is known that at least Rachael is a replicant. So, in a Shakespearean fashion, death has a quality of omni-presence, even throughout the affairs of love, and vice-versa.
Legacy
Returning to the question above, i.e. about if feelings and experiences have any value that transcends death, and taking into consideration what has been said about the communion that is necessary for the definition of one’s existence, one might assume that according to the film – at least as an indirect suggestion-, love, and beyond that, any form of sharing, can be perceived as a passageway towards immortalizing one’s experiences, feelings, knowledge and ultimately, existence. Unquestionably, sharing is a powerful thing – through sharing, true sharing, an overtone of immortality is applied to everything that has been shared. After all, even procreation, the creation of new life happens through sharing and combining the essence of life, the information-code which it is based on. Opposite this, and unambiguously shown in the film, lies the idea that when somebody is denied this sharing and instead is mistreated and abused, the consequence is the adoption of retributive behavior that can destroy the abuser and the abused alike. The replicants may initially be perceived as unjustifiably evil but if the viewer remembers their slavery past, it all falls into place and the unavoidable repercussions of this break in the cycle of respectful sharing becomes explained. The tragedy in situations like these is that the pain of lack of sharing is always there and this is also depicted in the film – according to some critics, the fact that at the end Roy Batty – moments before his own passing – decides to save Deckard from plummeting to his death is a testament of his need to pass on some of his experiences and have somebody remember him. So, it can be said that the film does indeed, offer a hint to the viewer that the question of immortality can perhaps be answered with the age-old idea that love, creation and/or sharing do indeed provide with an indirect way to eventually triumph over death.
Timeless Achievement
From a visual point of view, Blade Runner is one of the most breathtaking, stunning, memorable and complete achievements of all feature films ever produced. The stupendous quality of Scott’s imagery is unprecedented – it captures the attention and conveys the dark overtones of a frighteningly possible future in sheer magnificence. Scott in an almost offensive illustration of talent created images of pure poetic quality, like masterpiece paintings painted on film instead of canvas. Simply put, Scott’s images are of unsurpassed quality with scenes of striking combinations of framing, composition and lighting being depicted throughout the film in an almost scandalous regularity. Some of these images are simply breathtaking while others arguably reach archetypal status, matching the archetypal quality of the questions raised by Philip K. Dick. Scott, perhaps better than any other director in Hollywood, has this ability in abundance and it is probably a fortunate event that this particular director happened to direct this extraordinary story. If one had to define the tone of the visual style they would have to say that it is “noir”, an atmosphere that consistently permeates the film and supports Dick’s underlying mindset. The noir overtones help create an undeniably cynical (or even nihilistic?) angle on the whole setting, and cynicism lends support, at a deeper level, to the tragic aspect of the human existence that lies within the core mentality of the film. So, to Scott’s credit, the noir style is perhaps a deliberate contribution of visual artistic substance to the philosophical content of Dick’s work.
The score of the film perfectly matches its visuals as well. Vangelis’ mostly synth-based soundtrack at some points discreetly corroborates the subtle essence of nihilism that sits at the edges of the film while at others, working together with Scott’s magnificent images, acts a a lever for a moderated but robust form of elation. At others yet, it supports their quiet sentimentality, allowing the viewer to experience the film much more profoundly than they would otherwise do. His sounds and melodies are characteristic and frequently impressive, and hence he manages to leave his own distinctive mark on the film.
At a higher level, seeing how Vangelis’ score ties and works together with Scott’s visuals which are brought to life by the cast’s excellent performances and all of them blending with the system of ideas evident in Dick’s story, is a nice reminder of what happens when talented artists, each from the scope of their own discipline understand each other at a deep level and work together towards a common goal. The result then is simply more than the sum of its parts: It becomes something much bigger, pointing towards the gateway for a collaborative work of art -such as film-making- to reach masterpiece status.
There are very few criticisms that the film may be susceptible to. According to today’s standards the pace may be a little slow but this is a deliberate choice from an era when artistry in Hollywood still had the upper hand over commercialization, and in this carefully-crafted film the pace is exactly what it has to be in order to create the mood it needs to create.
So, speaking of masterpieces, Blade Runner is undeniably such. However right, wrong or simply speculative all the assertions and questions expressed in this text might be, one thing is for sure: The fact that a film is capable of setting a willing mind in motion at such a level, and probing certain areas of the intellect in such a way, proves its worth by itself. No matter what criticisms there may be, this work of art manages to surface the deepest of humanity’s questions, attempts to offer hints on their potential answers and even more, places the whole issue on an entirely new basis. It also does all this through an unforgettable display of masterful cinematography that set new standards in the film industry, in combination with an impressively evocative soundtrack and actor performances that manage to meet its heavy demands. So, simply put, it would not tread on the ground of exaggeration if it was claimed that Blade Runner is nothing short of a masterpiece, a classic.
Interesting Quotes
“Embarrassing.
– No, it’s not embarrassing – because no one is going to find out.”
Deckard and Captain. Bryant exchange about the presence of rogue replicants on Earth.
“Wake up! Time to die!”
Replicant Leon to Deckard just before he attempts to kill him.
“Memories. You are talking about memories.”
Deckard to Tyrell after being explained how Rachael doesn’t know she is a replicant.
“Have you ever retired a human by mistake?”
Rachael to Deckard.
“That Voight-Kampff test of yours… Did you ever take that test yourself?”
Rachael to Deckard.
“Chew… if only you could see what I’ve seen with your eyes.”
Roy Batty to Chew, the designer of the replicants’ eyes.
“Fiery the angels fell; deep thunder rolled around their shores; burning with the fires of Orc.”
Roy batty, to Chew. This is a deliberate misquote of William Blake’s America: A Prophecy: “Fiery the angels fell, and as they rose deep thunder roll’d. Around their shores: indignant burning with the fires of Orc.”
“Then we’re stupid and we’ll die!
– No we won’t.”
Exchange between Pris and Roy Batty, upon news that one of the other replicants is dead. The quote is interesting because the news and fear of death come upon a moment of inter-romanticism.
“I do genetic design work for Tyrell corporation. There’s some of me in you.”
Sebastian to Roy Batty after discovering they are Nexus-6 type replicants.
“I think Sebastian… therefore I am.
– Very good Pris, now show him why.”
Pris to J.F. Sebastian, and being replied to by Roy Batty. Pris’s phrase is a direct reference to Rene Descartes’ famous philosophical quote: “ I think, therefore I am”. Right after Roy’s reply Pris exhibits an impressive feat of gymnastics suggesting the link between the mental and physical world. Deckard’s name similarity with Descartes’ (they are pronounced very similarly) is also worth noting.
“It’s not an easy thing to meet your maker. (…) “
-What seems to be the problem?
-Death
-I’m afraid this is out of my jurisdiction
(…)
-I want more life, Father
(…)
-The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long.”
Exchanges between Roy Batty and Dr Tyrell, the creator of replicants, upon their meeting.
“Proud of yourself, little man?”
Roy Batty to Deckard during their violent encounter.
“Quite an experience to live in fear isn’t it? That’s what it is to be a slave!”
Roy Batty to Deckard during their violent encounter.
“It’s too bad she won’t live! But then again who does!”
Gaff to Deckard, talking about Rachael, Deckard’s love interest.
