Blade Runner 2049 Review: A Sequel We Didn’t Think Could Exist
Hi folks! It’s Kathleen here again, and I just have to take a moment to say something that we’ve been dancing around for months now. Dylan is wrong. Max is wrong. Now hear me out.
Dylan claims Blade Runner 2049 is proof that you can make a successful sequel to a masterpiece by just stuffing as many shiny moving pixels into the frame as possible. Max says it’s prettily misguided at best and completely misses the point of what made the original film work in the first place. To a certain extent, they’re both right, but Max is flirting much closer to the truth here. Blade Runner 2049 impresses me because it accomplishes something truly rare – it respects what came before it without being dwarfed by that predecessor.
Can you imagine directing Blade Runner 2049? Denis Villeneuve walked into that filmmaking pressure cooker armed with nothing but the best of intentions towards one of the most legendary science fiction films in cinematic history. 1982’s Blade Runner had spent the better part of thirty-five years building up accolades and wielding profound influence across not just science fiction, but all of cinema. Hell, if we’re being honest with ourselves Blade Runner is kind of a religion to a lot of people who care about intelligent science fiction films. Why on Earth would you make a sequel to something like that?
Released in 2017 (Wikipedia), Blade Runner 2049 manages to respect everything about Blade Runner that we loved, whilst also telling its own story. The result is a film that elevates the conversation begun by its predecessor, one that forces you to re-examine what it was about that old film that struck you so deeply in the first place.
| Director | Denis Villeneuve |
| Year Released | 2017 |
| Genre | Neo-noir, Sci-Fi |
| Runtime | 164 minutes |
| Our Rating | 9/10 |
It even made our list of [the best recent science fiction films that treat you like an adult].
## Character Above All Else
For all of Blade Runner 2049’s accomplishments in the visual department (and believe me, there are many), what continues to draw me back to it are its characters. K as a character is able to experience things that Deckard from the original Blade Runner never got the chance to. Don’t get me wrong, I love Deckard’s story as much as the next cinephile raised on Blade Runner, but he spent the entirety of that film getting ready to ask questions that we’ve only started to truly grapple with as a society since it was released. What happens when you discover your primary relationship in life is with a hologram programmed to love you unconditionally? If you find out you might be the miracle replicant child?
K begins the film already understanding what Deckard spends all of Blade Runner wondering – he is a replicant. He works as a replicant hunter, fully aware of his own artificial nature but still managing to project a certain dignity about him.
In many ways, Ryan Gosling’s portrayal of K is the glue that holds the entire movie together. He moves with measured precision, his entire body tense with the understanding of his place in the social hierarchy but eternally vigilant so as not to betray any emotions that may undermine his station. He’s a machine. Gosling plays him as a replicant who knows he’s a replicant, but has something akin to a soul.
I love Blade Runner 2049 because of how K’s storyline allows us to tackle questions that we only hinted at in the original. Is it possible for a replicant to be considered truly human? The first Blade Runner left that question unanswered. Blade Runner 2049 answers it with a resounding yes, and then probes its characters (and audience) about what that really means. K falls in love with Joi. He projects her everywhere he goes, from prison bathroom tiles to interstellar space. She’s a hologram. She’s programmed to love him. Their relationship might be the least authentic thing in the entire film and simultaneously the most human.
When Blade Runner 2049 suggests the possibility that K could be the miracle replicant child his story arc parallels Deckard’s questions about his own nature from the first movie. We watch K grapple with what it would mean to have a purpose to his existence. He isn’t special because of where he comes from; he can become special by what he does. K saves Deckard and Rachel’s child not because he understands he’s special, but because he decides he’s going to act as if he is.
## Cinematography That Elevates the Narrative
Hands down the most impressive part of Blade Runner 2049 for me is the incredible visual accomplishment that it is. The visuals in this movie serve a purpose beyond simply “wow-ing” audience members. Roger Deakins won the Oscar for Best Cinematography (Vanity Fair) this year for a reason. Everything is stunningly filmed, but never in a distracting way.
Colour palettes were expanded upon from the original Blade Runner’s core ideas. Blade Runner 2049 explores cooler colour schemes than its predecessor, but leans hard into some amazing shades of gold. The Las Vegas shot about two thirds of the way through is one of the single most breathtaking sequences I’ve ever had the pleasure of sitting through. The contrast between the toxic wasteland that Los Angeles has become and the bombastically American vision of nostalgia that is Vegas offers a stunning exploration of setting as worldbuilding.
Speaking of worldbuilding, the epic scale that Villeneuve and Co. were able to achieve while still grounding us in K’s story is nothing short of masterful. From the vastness of that wall protecting LA from the Pacific to the urban decay of San Diego’s sprawl littered with man-eating hounds, Blade Runner 2049 excels at finding the balance between these huge creative choices and the very human story at the centre of it all.
But Blade Runner 2049 isn’t just beautiful to look at. What I love most about the film is how these big, daring visual choices inform the story being told. The framing of K when he first steps out into that snow-covered preserve, when he stumbles onto his wooden horse in that junkyard, when he meets Deckard at that deserted casino – all of these moments use visuals to further punctuate the emotion, not displace it.
## World Building without Info Dumps
One of the things I appreciate most about both Blade Runner films is they don’t feel the need to over-explain everything. Blade Runner 2049 succeeds brilliantly at this as well, painting a picture of the future that allows us to understand how the world works without beating us over the head with exposition.
Take for instance the introduction of Niander Wallace as this film’s villain. Jared Leto easily could have been campy and annoying as this blustering, wealth-absorbing titan of industry, but Villeneuve extracts a thoroughly chilling performance from him. Wallace is blind. He runs a corporation powered by the repulsive notion that he can improve upon nature by tearing it down and remaking it in his own image. He views himself as a god. Leto’s performance sells every moment Wallace is on screen, from his drunken monologues about progress to his poisoned dinner with Luv.
What Blade Runner 2049 doesn’t do is waste time hashing out Wallace’s backstory. We don’t need to know how he got this way to understand that he’s a corporation-enabled monster whose unchecked power has allowed him to influence the very nature of what it means to be human. The world of Blade Runner 2049 is crafted the same way.
Politics, society, technology – these things are explored through context and action. We understand how bad everything has gotten for regular humans by the time K’s story starts without watching someone deliver a heartfelt speech about the oppression of mankind. When we meet freed replicants, we understand their struggle. When we meet characters who embrace the WALL-E-esque garbage heap that is this future’s idea of San Diego, we understand they’re on the losing team. Worldbuilding comes from understanding character motivation, and Blade Runner 2049 excels at crafting memorable characters with the kind of intricate backstory that enriches their actions without blatantly spelling everything out for you.
Even in its relationship to the original Blade Runner sequel maintains this philosophy. Ford’s casting as Deckard was a no brainer, and the writing does a wonderful job of making his relationship with K feel earned based on their respective circumstances. There is never any actual explanation as to Deckard’s true nature from the original movie. That question still hasn’t been answered for me, and honestly I like that. What we do know about him is enough to move forward with the narrative Blade Runner 2049 wants to tell.
## A Beautiful Horror
It’s interesting to me how both Blade Runner films dance with this idea of how do you make a city so disgusting looking that we want to live there? That’s partially what made the original Blade Runner so ahead of its time. It portrayed decay and environmental rot in a way that was beautiful, that made garbage exploding skyscrapers feel cool.
2049 pushes that even further, leaning hard into the juxtaposition of beauty and horror both in its world and the story it’s trying to tell. Wallace’s headquarters is positively gorgeous. It’s got these massive waterfalls and this sexy, swooping architecture. It’s where he kills people. Remember when K fully realised Luv was an assassin and she killed him right in front of K as a reminder that he’ll never be good enough to earn protection? Yeah, that happened at Wallace’s office.
This dichotomy of ugly beauty Blade Runner 2049 lives in is explored constantly through K’s relationship with Joi. Can you have a real relationship with a hologram? Sure you can. It’s not “real” in the sense that you’d find with another human being, but it doesn’t make it any less valid.
That ruined but beautiful vision of Las Vegas plays perfectly into this theme as well. Everything in this movie can be synthesized. Memories, friends, voices in your head. If it exists, someone can figure out how to replicate it. K’s journey is partly about learning how to appreciate the real things in life.
## Why Blade Runner 2049 Works
Blade Runner 2049 was well received by both critics and audiences. It boasts a healthy 87% rating on Rotten Tomatoes (Time Certified Fresh List) and a Metascore of 81 on Metacritic (Metacritic). Users rated it 8.0 out of 10 on IMDb (Rating Graph), adding reviews like “Mind blowing cinema.” and “Perfection.” Typical.
Despite earning about $260 million worldwide (The Numbers) it didn’t come close to matching its budget, placing it amongst other high quality films that underperformed. Sound familiar Original Blade Runner fans?
What works about Blade Runner 2049 is that it understands what a sequel is. It’s not just another Blade Runner movie. But it’s not trying to be something it’s not. Screenwriters Hampton Fancher and Michael Green, along with Villeneuve, seemed to understand going into this what made the original work. They knew they couldn’t just remake that magic. Instead they took the world that Frankenstein created and focused on what it would mean to expand on the story he began.
Blade Runner 2049 takes its whole hundred fourteen minutes (IMDb Technical) to tell. It’s a lengthy movie by most standards, but there are few scenes I’d say don’t advance character or theme in some way. It takes its time getting from one set piece to the next, and establishes a pace that gives you room to breathe and think rather than hurling you through blockbuster movie mechanics.
In many ways, Blade Runner 2049 is the antithesis of everything that passes for entertaining nowadays, and I mean that in the best way possible.
## In Defense of Android Sentimentality
When I think back on Blade Runner 2049 months removed from my last viewing, what resonates with me now more than ever are the ideas that this movie was kicking my while artificial intelligence was still a sci-fi concept. 2049 wonders about what it means to be real, to be authentic. Sure, K has artificial memories. But he doesn’t know that they aren’t his. His journey to discover himself is no different than any other hero’s journey we’ve watched
Blade Runner 2049 understands this. It understands that although he lives in a world built to take away his autonomy, K can still choose to be the hero of his own story. It trusts that we as an audience will accept a world where replicants dream of electric sheep. It dares to ask questions about a future we’re building today.
More people should make science fiction films like Blade Runner 2049. Films that demand your attention, that make you think, that care about the story they’re telling as much as they do the visual palette they’re painting it on. And you know what? They do exist. You just have to look for them.
I expect Dylan and Max will continue to argue about whether this movie was needed. Max will insist that Blade Runner 2049 played too much reverence to its source material to truly stand on its own. Dylan will argue that justifies its existence on a technical level alone. And they’ll both be right. Because Blade Runner 2049 gives you an excuse to talk about these grand ideas.
This film made me care about androids so much that I wanted to defend them when my boyfriend said something stupid about AI. That, my friends, is the power of good science fiction.
Kathleen’s a lifelong reader who believes science fiction is literature, full stop. From her book-filled home in Seattle, she writes about thoughtful, character-driven sci-fi that challenges ideas and lingers long after the last page. She’s a champion for under-read authors and timeless storytelling.