I have had an inkling for a while to make this a thing. There are two things I love in life: books and movies. Actually, there are a lot of things I love in life, but those two are really high up on the list. I’m especially fond of considering the translation of books into movies, and now that I have a public platform I can stop bothering my friends with this all the time.
So, to begin, we’ll throw in a third thing I love: dystopia. Thus we have our discussion of Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?/Blade Runner. It recently occurred to me that I had never read Philip K. Dick’s book, which is reason enough for me to read most things. Coincidentally, just as I finished the volume the theater near my apartment started a classic sci-fi series with the opening film being Blade Runner and a discussion following the film. It was an electric dream come true!
I know that you can never get everything in the book into the movie, but I was surprised to find in the first paragraph that book Deckard has a wife. Unfortunately, she is inextricably linked to some other very big ideas that had to be omitted, like Mercerism, the religious treatment of empathy, and all the real animals. Though I understand their exclusion, it is a shame nonetheless. The religious aspects of the people left on Earth were fascinating. Empathy is the only thing that separates humans from androids and empathy, through Mercerism, is the only thing that most people have to get them through the day. The androids of the film seem to have genuine affection for each other and Roy shows Deckard mercy in his final living act, but the androids of the book are clearly lacking in this most human experience. Reading along as a book android methodically snipped the legs off a living spider to see if it could still walk with four was bad enough, I can’t imagine how John Isidore felt. Especially given the reverence of life and the importance of taking care of living animals that is present in the book.
Yesterday, at Smash Cut Culture, Patrick Lehe wrote a fairly positive teaser review of Snowpiercer in his post, “Snowpiercer” Penetrates, Provokes and Gets Political.
Like Patrick, I was intrigued by the trailer and the critical hype. A lot of people were talking about this movie as a great example of fresh and original sci-fi cinema and as a fan of the genre, I was excited.
After seeing the film, however, I was tremendously disappointed. My suspension of disbelief was thoroughly destroyed early in the film and simply never returned. Consequently, I spent the baffling majority of the film wondering why things were happening on screen. It’s really hard to enjoy a cinematic experience when you are shaking your head with incredulity the entire movie.
Snowpiercer ended up being a relatively unique concept for a film without being all that good or coherent. However, instead of listing my specific, spoiler-ridden, criticisms of Snowpiercer here, today I want to talk about the importance of internal logic in cinema.
More than anything, to create a believable world that really captures an audience’s imagination, a story needs to make sense. In science fiction and fantasy stories, this is especially true, because audiences begin totally unfamiliar with the worlds and characters that the stories require them to accept. The setting and characters must be accepted realistic before an audience can fully engage in the story itself.
To be clear, what I mean is not that the story needs to exist in the real world or conform to known physical laws.
Great stories can have the most fantastical spaceships, amazing technology, superhuman abilities and magical powers, impressive landscapes and strange alien beasts. They can – and perhaps should – completely abandon anything known to mankind.
But once the rules of the world, the characters, and their abilities are established, they have to be consistent and make sense throughout the rest of the story. Great writers establish a complex and rich universe: They give you the “rules”, and stick to them. And that consistency creates an opportunity to have a really character driven story that makes sense on its own terms.
So, believability really matters.
Science fiction and fantasy stories have the potential to talk about big ideas and create grand allegories for humanity and really say something about people in a way that few other genres can accomplish, but they can only do that if the audience buys into the universe as it’s presented.
The real beauty of the genre is that when it’s believable, it’s perfect for creating compelling stories about deep-rooted facets of human nature in a way that is totally outside the real-world human experience and frees an audience to look at an idea from a fresh perspective.
Brazil shows the absurdity of overwhelming bureaucracy. Blade Runner wrestles with the ethics of cloning and questions the nature of humanity. The Iron Giant shows us that violence is a choice, and xenophobia is often more dangerous than seemingly scary monsters. Pan’s Labyrinth uses fantasy and escapism to viscerally express the terror of living as a little girl under fascist Spain. Big Fish tackles the nature and significance of exaggeration vs. truth in creating distance in the relationship between a father and son.
Snowpiercer is a film that desperately wants to say something about class and economic inequality, but I found it to be so ridiculously unbelievable and silly as a story that the message can’t be taken seriously either.
Considering how many science fiction and fantasy genre films are written to be allegories about humanity and modern social issues, you’d think that writers presenting a social message would take believability a lot more seriously with their films.
Most science fiction and fantasy genre movies ignore this important point.
A few logic cheats are fine, of course, but the problem with writing that lacks coherence is that, as a viewer, it eventually becomes very hard to ignore major lapses in consistency. The more audiences question the veracity of a sequence of events given what they’re told of a character’s motivations, or the world those characters inhabit; the more audiences get taken out of the experience of the story itself.
For me, that’s exactly what happened when watching Snowpiercer, to the point where instead of thinking about social issues like class stratification, I was running a play-back in my mind of the several dozen sequences in the film that made absolutely no sense.
A science fiction movie especially lives or dies on the audience buying into the vision of the film. And once you’ve lost your audience, it’s very hard to regain their interest.
Maintaining believability and respecting an audience’s suspension of disbelief is crucial for any story-teller trying to build a world that feels real; and that kind of reality is absolutely essential for audiences to actually buy into the allegory as it’s presented.
Anyone who wants to use story-telling to present big ideas about society and human nature should probably keep this in mind.
Bong Joon-Ho, I’m looking at you.
I know this might ruffle some feathers. Members of the Blade Runner cult are sharpening their pitchforks at the fact that it is not our first A+, and perhaps with good reason. After all, the 1982 dystopian sci-fi holds a special and influential position in the film history hierarchy. The concept is phenomenally inventive, the characters are extremely compelling and oddly relatable, the visuals are stunning and progressive, and the theme is one that leaves you questioning your worldview as you exit the theater. Blade Runner is one of the first films to reach beyond the suffocating tropes of the science fiction genre and use it as a viable and effective means for telling a poignant story. At this point, I have almost convinced myself that I rated it too low.
The story follows Deckard (Harrison Ford), a retired police officer who is forced to accept a mission to eliminate several illegal “replicants” (bioengineered humanoids). The journey that follows combines thrilling action with a very compelling question: what does it really mean to be alive?
However, while all of the elements seem apparent, there is just a whiff of something missing for me. It was the second time I’ve watched Blade Runner and, for whatever reason, I find the conversations that occur after watching to be far more enjoyable than the actual viewing experience. I know I may be claiming my own private island here, but it can be slow at times
and failed to keep me fixed to the edge of my seat. And it seems I’m not alone! Blade Runner is one of a few members of the AFI List that struck out entirely at the Academy Awards, winning 0 Oscars out of only two nominations. Now, this is not a perfect indicator of the film’s quality, especially since 1982 was simply a great year for movies (#91 Sophie’s Choice, #69 Tootsie, and #24 E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial from our list were all released that same year); but it seems as though much of the appreciation for Blade Runner has come in retrospect.
Still, it’s one of those movies you just have to see. No film junkie’s vernacular is complete without the occasional reference or parallel to Blade Runner, and its impact on the future of film is extremely apparent. For that, Blade Runner earns a solid B+, and a Liberty Rating of 7 for its commentary on the ways in which outside forces influence individual freedoms. I won’t question it’s inclusion on the list, I just can’t say I’m as blown away as some of my peers. Maybe I’m missing something.
Alrighty. Are you keeping up? Next is #96, Spike Lee’s Do the Right Thing.
Okay, bring it on. How do you feel about Blade Runner? Can you help me see the light? Or are you equally underwhelmed by the hype? Let us know!
To see the rest of the list click here.