Denis Villeneuve
Blade Runner 2049

The most anticipated movie of the year. The most anticipated movie of recent years. The most anticipated movie of all time.

Oh well, might as well give in to it.

Even though I'm not among the purists, usually opposed outright to sequels, reboots, and such, I've never really looked favorably on the return of Blade Runner 35 years after the epochal masterpiece that redefined the rules of the game.

The fact is that Blade Runner truly changed everything. By redefining not only the stylistics of noir and sci-fi, ushering genres into new and, until then, unexplored cinematic dimensions. Introducing figures and themes that have since been revisited and overused ad nauseam. Expanding its blinding ray of influence into visually and conceptually universal territories, far beyond genre boundaries. Far beyond the concept of auteur or mainstream cinema (in this respect, ask Fincher and Nolan). What Scott created in 1982, loosely inspired by Dick's work, is an entirely different world, dark, gloomy, dystopian.

The poetry, the replicants, artificial intelligence, the android's existentialism, implanted and unnatural memories, symbolism, origami, the incessant rain. The human and moral decay of civilization in the era of the technological God's dominion.

Blade Runner is too important, complex, monumental to be boxed into franchise logic. Yet the expectations for this unexpected sequel by Villeneuve, one of the most interesting and reliable directors around, couldn't be anything but sky-high. Fueled also by trailers, brief clips, and images circulating in recent weeks that already hinted at ecstasy.

And here we are, talking about Blade Runner today, in 2017, right in the era imagined by Scott in those early '80s. Some things have come true, others, the more futuristic ones, clearly have not (yet).

Thirty-five years for us, thirty for them: 2049. The eye is once again ready to witness.

The encounter with the new creature is imposing, nothing less than what was expected. The beauty is dazzling and extraordinary. Roger Deakins, by the way, is one of the tough ones. In my opinion, an opinion I've held and developed over years, he's the best around. It's a pity he wasn't around for Arrival (still beautiful to me).

The hunt for old models of rebellious replicants, models without life expiration dates, is still ongoing. By new hunters, "obedient replicants."

Los Angeles is once again the center of the world. A world of people and holograms. A world increasingly on the brink of self-destruction and a liberation war by human-created beings.

The aesthetic aspect mentioned above is certainly not the only thing to ponder. In fact, BR 2049 does not stay on the surface, but extends, re-proposes, and extreme some of the original work's themes.

The memories. The memories and the profound significance they have in defining the soul—or its alleged lack. Memory defines the essence of the sentient being.

But the comparison remains decidedly unequal. Villeneuve does not aim to create a new mythology but rather to renew the previous one. He leans on the imagery created by Scott (who, after all, is still the producer), revealing how much it was and still is light-years ahead. This is undoubtedly the entire limitation of this sequel, welcomed by many as a masterpiece even before its release. Amidst quotes and callbacks, and more generally between the lines, there isn't really a nostalgia effect, no; but neither a true evolution or a prelude to it. The film proceeds excellently, yes, attempts an independent path but never risks more than necessary; it is closer to a consumer product than to an avant-garde masterpiece. Villeneuve, for sure, in terms of blockbusters, is, at least to me, considered the real reference point today.

There's no boredom in BR 2049 (there's no Vangelis either; there's Hans Zimmer. Not the same thing), memorable moments abound, as does action (much more than in the prototype, but not that you feel the ghost of Cameron, to be clear...). But in almost three hours of runtime, there's never a conclusion, a closing of the circle. The same character brilliantly portrayed by Jared Leto is fundamentally left where it is, and that's a shame. Gosling does what he must, Harrison Ford (the age-old question of Deckard replicant/not replicant, by the way, is not explicitly clarified even now, though the solution is hinted at) is priceless, clearly in the prime of a new youth, with exceptional charisma. In all of this, the beautiful, unstoppable replicant ass-kicker antagonist of Sylvia Hoeks (seen in Tornatore's The Best Offer) stands out as the most delightful character to follow, for the actress's elegance and overwhelming sex appeal, but not only.

The thread isn't broken, the wall isn't torn down. Things that will happen later. The open ending (not open in a Lynchian way, to be clear), in fact, besides leaving you thoroughly stunned, this is what it says. It delivers Blade Runner now turned into a franchise. Luxury franchise, but a franchise all the same. Ready to produce new, highly anticipated and lucrative sequels, much like Terminator.

Not that the artistic side comes out defeated, clear. But even for a non-purist like me, it's still striking.