It is fascinating to see parts of the audience replay reactions to the original Blade Runner. You've heard grievances about plot holes, false set pieces and style over substance, no doubt, as well as something of an open-ended ending? While all these points are true in part, they also all constitute strengths within the context of this particular film, and do justice to its forebear.
Blade Runner 2049 opens as Agent K (Gosling) hunts down remaining Nexus 8+ replicants, against a backdrop of ecological collapse and mega-corporate rule. Tyrell Corp is gone and replaced by a bigger, more ominous force manufacturing a more obedient synthetic workforce. When the seemingly impossible happens, it sends K on a disturbing investigation with severe implications about whether these robots really are, as the original Tyrell tag-line promised, "more human than human".
Much has been made of the stunningly oppressive cinematography. Is it maestro Deakins' career best? It is hard to say, given the extent to which the phenomenal production design and the cinematography complement each other, along with effects that - save for one smartly played uncanny valley-leaning revival - make you wonder what is digital and what is practical. Director Dennis Villeneuve forges another mighty link in a very impressive chain of meticulous films, and while the film can never aspire to be as era-defining as its predecessor, it does convey more emotion and manages infinitely superior chemistry between its characters.
Ryan Gosling anchors and carries the film, despite the emotional distance deliberately placed between him and the audience from the onset. His is a quieter, more subdued tragedy than Rutger Hauer's fallen angel in the original, but his anguish and its pay-off resonate just as deeply. Harrison Ford bares his heart like never before, and his pairing with Gosling works wonders. The rest of the cast often acquit themselves very well despite sometimes limited screen-time or development, with the exception of a slightly underwhelming Sylvia Hoeks as the antagonist's hench-woman. For all his good work as a nightmarish version of a machine-linked Elon Musk, Jared Leto makes you wonder what original choice David Bowie might have done with the role.
In terms of collaborators, the only weak link, at times, is Hans Zimmer, who goes balls-to-the-walls with the more oppressive parts of Vangelis' concepts, but fails to blend those and the quieter moments into a cohesive whole. The music is, when present, also menacingly loud in the sound mix, and while this does reenforce the oft- present and appropriate sense of dread, it sometimes sets up summer blockbuster expectations, which this decidedly - and thankfully - is not. One wishes Villeneuve regular Johan Johansson had been given a chance to play in Vangelis' sandbox.
This is a rich and oppressive work, which refuses to answer all your questions, while evoking many fascinating ideas. It more than does justice to the original, and whatever throwbacks occur and, more often than not, thoughtful - even a reprise of the tears in the rain music theme, which Zimmer comes within inches or overplaying. What worked in the 1982 film still works here, and what didn't is actually improved, from the chemistry to the fact that our detective actually, you know, does some detective work for a change. It is that rare event film that has confidence in a more languid sense of pacing and textured atmosphere.
Imperfect, yes, but undeniably haunting. Much like the original.
Blade Runner 2049 opens as Agent K (Gosling) hunts down remaining Nexus 8+ replicants, against a backdrop of ecological collapse and mega-corporate rule. Tyrell Corp is gone and replaced by a bigger, more ominous force manufacturing a more obedient synthetic workforce. When the seemingly impossible happens, it sends K on a disturbing investigation with severe implications about whether these robots really are, as the original Tyrell tag-line promised, "more human than human".
Much has been made of the stunningly oppressive cinematography. Is it maestro Deakins' career best? It is hard to say, given the extent to which the phenomenal production design and the cinematography complement each other, along with effects that - save for one smartly played uncanny valley-leaning revival - make you wonder what is digital and what is practical. Director Dennis Villeneuve forges another mighty link in a very impressive chain of meticulous films, and while the film can never aspire to be as era-defining as its predecessor, it does convey more emotion and manages infinitely superior chemistry between its characters.
Ryan Gosling anchors and carries the film, despite the emotional distance deliberately placed between him and the audience from the onset. His is a quieter, more subdued tragedy than Rutger Hauer's fallen angel in the original, but his anguish and its pay-off resonate just as deeply. Harrison Ford bares his heart like never before, and his pairing with Gosling works wonders. The rest of the cast often acquit themselves very well despite sometimes limited screen-time or development, with the exception of a slightly underwhelming Sylvia Hoeks as the antagonist's hench-woman. For all his good work as a nightmarish version of a machine-linked Elon Musk, Jared Leto makes you wonder what original choice David Bowie might have done with the role.
In terms of collaborators, the only weak link, at times, is Hans Zimmer, who goes balls-to-the-walls with the more oppressive parts of Vangelis' concepts, but fails to blend those and the quieter moments into a cohesive whole. The music is, when present, also menacingly loud in the sound mix, and while this does reenforce the oft- present and appropriate sense of dread, it sometimes sets up summer blockbuster expectations, which this decidedly - and thankfully - is not. One wishes Villeneuve regular Johan Johansson had been given a chance to play in Vangelis' sandbox.
This is a rich and oppressive work, which refuses to answer all your questions, while evoking many fascinating ideas. It more than does justice to the original, and whatever throwbacks occur and, more often than not, thoughtful - even a reprise of the tears in the rain music theme, which Zimmer comes within inches or overplaying. What worked in the 1982 film still works here, and what didn't is actually improved, from the chemistry to the fact that our detective actually, you know, does some detective work for a change. It is that rare event film that has confidence in a more languid sense of pacing and textured atmosphere.
Imperfect, yes, but undeniably haunting. Much like the original.