Nidorf 1

Jonah Nidorf

Dr. Clark

ENGW1111

18 April 2022

Do Computers Dream of Digital Sheep?

Blade Runner’s concepts of technology hail from the psychedelic-fueled mind of Phillip

K. Dick in his 1968 novel Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? The 1982 film, directed by

Ridley Scott, is a dystopian sci-fi thriller starring Harrison Ford as stoic replicant hunter Rick

Deckard. Blade Runner (1982) was far ahead of its time in its depiction of the future. The film

changed the way artificial intelligence and dystopian worldbuilding were realized for decades to

come. Paul Sammon remarks that “although it was not a success when first released, Blade

Runner has proven to be enormously influential on films and modern culture in general

(Sammon).” Upon it’s release, Blade Runner (1982) failed at the box office, hardly breaking

even with its relatively high budget (“Blade Runner”). The long awaited 2017 sequel, Blade

Runner 2049, directed by Dennis Villeneuve, has Ryan Gosling filling the self-titled role. Blade

Runner (2017) similarly failed to capture large audiences at the big screen despite garnering

critical acclaim for its innovative depiction of the future (“Blade Runner 2049”). Critics agree

that the sequel “more than lives up to its predecessor’s legacy” without falling into common

franchising blunders (Grierson). Blade Runner (2017) does its part to update its predecessor’s

outdated themes, while still holding true to the narrative arc and stylistic atmosphere that was

introduced years before.

 Nidorf 2

Inter-planetary domination, irreversible climate destruction, and extreme nuclear fallout

are dystopian concepts brought to life in the cautionary world of Blade Runner (1982). In the

1980s, with the threat of nuclear war on the horizon, the world was in a state of constant fear

towards technology. Like The Terminator (1984) and Robocop (1987), Blade Runner (1982) is a

cinematic manifestation of society’s fear, representing technology as an unstoppable evil

towering over humanity. The film’s visual style highlights this fearful power dynamic that exists

between man and machine. In the murky streets of future Los Angeles, electronic advertisements

tower above the streets, casting a faint luminescent glow over the city below. Throughout the

film, the characters see themselves interacting beneath great metal blimps sporting bright

flashing lights and huge television screens advertising luxurious ‘off world’ settlements. These

inescapable digital behemoths add a sense of menacing unease to the film. Indicating to the

audience that in this dystopian world, humans helplessly live out their days far beneath the

machines above. The character’s costumes and makeup add to the films technophobia as well.

This is displayed in the climactic fight between Deckard and the rogue replicants in the Bradbury

apartments. Pris sports a terrifying change of appearance in the final act. She totes a heavy

helping of black eye-makeup which conceals her gaze in demonic mystery. Poorly applied white

and blue face makeup connects the mechanical marvel with sinister children’s dolls to the likes

of 1980’s nightmare fuel Poltergeist and Chucky. Her new look, in conjunction with Daryl

Hannah’s chilling performance makes Pris stand out against the muted wardrobe of Deckard in

the ending sequence. The visual storytelling in Blade Runner (1982) is meant to unnerve the

audience at the sight of technology, adding to the film’s cautionary narrative about the future.

Conversely, Blade Runner (2017) makes use of more nuance to its depiction of

technology. With the mainstream acceptance of artificial intelligence in the form of Alexa, Siri,
 Nidorf 3

and similar technological advancements, now more than ever society recognizes the value of

digital ‘life.’ Modern aversion to technology is not so much out of the fear of machines

themselves, but rather the ways in which humans can abuse them for things like deepfakes and

cyber-attacks. Blade Runner (2017) recognizes this paradigm shift, electing not to depict

technology as root of all evil, leaving human greed to fill that role. When the films antagonist

Niander Wallace is introduced, he releases, and subsequently kills, a replicant woman, while

making a speech about creation. In this scene, Wallace’s character is placed above the newly

created android on screen. He looks down at her from his position of supremacy while she

cowers in fear. In contrast with the staging of Blade Runner (1982), the power dynamic has

flipped. The audience now sympathizes with replicant-kind rather than humankind. This point is

further driven by the rhetoric used by Wallace in his malevolent monologue. Here Wallace

equates replicants to angels, stating that “there were bad angels once… I make good angels now”

(Villeneuve). While this may just sound like the mutterings of a narcissistic sociopath (which

they are), Wallace’s words also offer insight into the perception of technology within the film.

Dr. Ana Stelline, who was born to a replicant mother, fits all the criteria of a messianic character.

She is worshipped by her amassing followers, affirming the idea introduced by Wallace in his

ramblings. Technology was once feared, but now, it is exalted for the value it can offer

humanity. Today, the implications of technology are debated, but its usefulness is ubiquitously

venerated. Blade Runner (2017) puts both the good and the ugly of the future of technology into

conversation, leaving the viewer to decide where they stand.

Blade Runner (1982), like many films of its era, is guilty of treating feminine characters

as nothing more than manifestations of sexual desire. One of the most uniquely perverted tropes

in the original Bladerunner film is its obsession with female death. This is most clearly
 Nidorf 4

performed at two points of the film. First, when Deckard chases down and ‘retires’ Zhora

Salome. While Zhora crashes to her death, the slow-motion camera focuses on the female

replicant’s flailing figure. This sequence is drawn out for the viewer’s delight as the jazzy

synthesizer-led score flourishes to a peak. The film’s obsession is shown again at the film’s

climax when Deckard kills Pris. The only difference here is that, instead of jazz, the audience

hears discordant screams and percussive headbanging while they are forced to watch the woman

die for twenty-one seconds of uninterrupted agony. This uncomfortable obsession is starkly

contrasted by the death of Zhora and Pris’ male counterpart Roy Batty. Batty’s timely end is so

prompt and painless that one might not realize he died at all. Blade Runner’s fetishization of

femininity does not stop here. This is abundantly evident when Deckard approaches Rachel as

she plays piano in his apartment. He begins kissing her neck, upon which Rachel, clearly

uncomfortable with Deckard’s advances, makes a run for the door. The film’s unsteady

camerawork as the shot follows her down the hallway accentuates Rachel’s panic in this

moment. Deckard then traps Rachel in the apartment and continues to sexually assault the

helpless replicant. All the while the romantic score swells in tender desire, and the shot

intimately closes in on the pair of nonconsensual lovers, excusing Deckard’s actions by framing

them not as abuse but as romance instead. This scene, like the female replicant death scenes,

lingers too long on the anguish of female characters. The visual and auditory obsession with

women suffering in Blade Runner (1982) is inexcusable, even for a film of its time.

With 35 years separating the two films, social norms have changed, and audiences are

more critical of sexist film tropes than ever before. Blade Runner (2017), like its predecessor,

finds itself falling into these harmful tropes at times. Agent K’s romantic interest, Joi, is just that.

She is the digital shell of a woman whose only use in the Blade Runner universe is to fall in love
 Nidorf 5

with any man who wants her. Joi has no agency, neither for her actions nor physical appearance.

The movie often presents the femme-hologram as nude or close to it. When K stands on a rainy

rooftop after finding out his true heritage, a one-hundred foot tall, fully nude projection of Joi

bends down before him, beckoning to the broken man, “hello handsome… you look lonely, I can

fix that” (Villeneuve). Joi’s sexual advances are lost on K, who, in this moment, seeks emotional

support more than anything else. Though this gratuitous nudity appears to be an appeal to the

male sexual fantasy, when viewed in the greater context of the film this dramatization of Joi is a

commentary on the future of sexism. It is no secret that the tech industry has a reputation for

sexism. Niander Wallace, the power hungry, narcissistic creator of Joi, represents toxic, sexist

big-tech CEOs of today. During his aforementioned monologue, Wallace admits that women are

the key to his success, claiming that he is unable to “breed them” in order to “own the stars”. In

this admission, Wallace shows the audience that his true intentions when creating female

replicants are to conquer their reproductive value. Joi was made by Wallace, a man who lacks the

capacity to understand women; Not only is he unable to replicate women’s natural reproductive

abilities, but he also fails to properly capture their emotional capacity. Like the infamous ‘tech-

bros’ of today, Wallace fails to understand the true value that women provide, reducing them

instead to mere sex objects. Blade Runner (2017) sees this problem today and imagines how it

could manifest in the future if the perception of women does not change for the better.

The ways in which future technology is imagined changed fundamentally between Blade

Runner (1982) and its long-delayed sequel Blade Runner (2017). Not only did the recent film’s

subject matter change to match modern opinions, but the cinematographic representation of the

future changed on a visceral level to match. Similarly, the two films vary in their treatment of

female characters. While the prior filmmakers elected to bask in the belittlement of women, the
 Nidorf 6

creators of the latter showing chose to give a thought-provoking, in-universe explanation as to

why men remain in power. In today’s IP driven film space, lazy sequels are commonplace,

regardless of whether the original film deserves to be revisited in the first place. Movies like

these are easy box office successes, despite failing to make changes to their source material in

any meaningful way. The Blade Runner franchise appears to be aware of the ineffectual efforts

of its competitors. Instead of half-heartedly changing the trajectory of the future, or adding

female roles just to check off boxes, Blade Runner seamlessly executes what so many franchises

fail to do gracefully – modernize.

 Nidorf 7

Works Cited

“Blade Runner” IMDb, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0083658/. Accessed 7 April 2022.

“Blade Runner 2049” IMDb, https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1856101/. Accessed 7 April 2022.

Grierson, Tim. “'Blade Runner 2049': Review.” Screen International, 29 Sept. 2017. ProQuest

One Academic, https://link.ezproxy.neu.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/trade-

journals/blade-runner-2049-review/docview/1944591997/se-2?accountid=12826.

Kempley, Rita. “'Blade Runner': A Cut Above: The Revamped 1982 Thriller.” The Washington

Post (1974-), 11 Sept. 1992, p. 2. ProQuest Historical Newspapers: The Washington Post,

https://link.ezproxy.neu.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/historical-newspapers/

blade-runner-cut-above/docview/140631756/se-2?accountid=12826.

Sammon, Paul M. “How ‘Blade Runner’ Drew the Blueprint for the Modern World: Although It

Was Not a Success When First Released.” The Daily Beast, 7 Oct. 2017,

https://link.ezproxy.neu.edu/login?url=https://www.proquest.com/blogs-podcasts-

websites/how-blade-runner-drew-blueprint-modern-world/docview/1947997766/se-2?

accountid=12826.

Scott, Ridley. Director. Bladerunner. Warner Bros. Pictures, 1982.

Villeneuve, Dennis. Director. Bladerunner 2049. Warner Bros. Pictures, 2017.