Blade Runner 2049

Within 12 or so hours of seeing Blade Runner 2049, it was necessary for me to submit my review of Arrival director Denis Villeneuve's sequel to Ridley Scott's 1982 film to another publication in order to make deadline.

That pissed me off.

I knew I could provide a kind of consumer report about the film - a synopsis that gave some indication of the story without blowing any major twists or turns (an onscreen note from Villeneuve politely requested that reviewers show a little discretion), a warning of sorts that the tone was contemplative and the pace deliberate (a couple at the screening I attended walked out 30 minutes into the two-hour-and-43-minute film), a rundown of what I perceived as 2049's virtues and flaws.

So I did that, and I did it to the best of my ability. But to paraphrase a line from the original Blade Runner, it left me with an itch I couldn't quite scratch.

There was more there, and more I could and should have expressed. Not because the plot is particularly labyrinthine - like Blade Runner, it's pretty much a traditional detective story with a couple of metaphysical swerves - but because the filmmakers have clearly gone to great lengths to layer in possible connotations and interpretations, many of which strike me upon reflection as valid and indeed meaningful.

What's more, Villeneuve and screenwriters Hampton Fancher (a co-scripter of the original Blade Runner) and Michael Green have done so in a far more streamlined and subtle way than Scott did with the edits of his film that, to me, played a little fast and loose in their efforts to add depth (but really only added doubt).

I hope I'm not giving the impression that I'm dissing Blade Runner - it's a compelling, atmospheric and wonderfully off-kilter film that has earned its place in the pantheon - but it took the majority of us a while to take in what it was saying, maybe because the majority of us were immediately dazzled by what it was showing. (Seriously, there are special-effects shots in Blade Runner that are awe-inspiring three-and-a-half decades down the line.)

And so I believe we should afford Blade Runner 2049 the same luxury.

Therefore, I hope you'll forgive me if this review, such as it is, doesn't provide an instant thumbs-up/thumbs-down verdict, even though my feelings about the film are certainly more positive than negative. I mean, I loathe criticism that sits comfortably on the fence and shrugs "But hey, this is just my opinion, guys. Maybe you should make up your own minds!" But I can say without hesitation that Blade Runner 2049 has its immediate pleasures that transfix and amaze.

Much has already been made of Roger A Deakins' spellbinding cinematography, and deservedly so, but Dennis Gassner's production design, creating a world both bleak and seductive, warrants just as much praise. Ryan Gosling, playing Officer 'K', and Harrison Ford, reprising his role as Rick Deckard, are the drawcards, and both are tremendous. The still, minimalist approach to acting often used by Gosling has served certain roles very well in the past, and that's perfectly employed here. And while revisiting Han Solo in The Force Awakens reminded viewers of Ford's movie-star cred, his work here is a bracing reminder of what's he capable of as a dramatic actor.

But the true acting depth comes from a handful of supporting performances. The soulfulness and pathos brought by Ana de Armas as K's virtual-reality companion Joi; the complex cold-bloodedness of Sylvia Hoeks' Luv, right-hand woman to Jared Leto's messianic Niander Wallace; Carla Juri as Dr Ana Stelline, creator of pre-fab memories, both expressing and suggesting so much with only a brief amount of screen time. (Regarding Leto. The divisive actor isn't in 2049 too much, and he's actually pretty good when he is! He's a bit mannered, but it works.)

Having said all that, it's what you take away from Blade Runner 2049 that gives this film its true worth. It has the de rigueur puzzle-box elements that will undoubtedly motivate a shitload of online theorising and debate, which can be kinda fun for brief periods, but Villeneuve also imbues it with an introspective, almost Zen-koan quality at times. (If that sounds wanky, that's not on the film, that's because I'm a wanker who can't find a better way to explain it.)

So, yeah, its pace may feel glacial on occasion. It's definitely short on humour (Christopher Nolan would tell this movie to lighten up). But it's a singular achievement, one that may be even more than the sum of its parts.