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Hello, fellow readers! The following piece was the last piece of writing I ever turned in before college graduation — my final paper of my academic career. The course was exploring genre, and my professor chose to brilliantly home in on a single film (and its many variations): Blade Runner. It was a fascinating course, and of course the genre I appreciated the most was the callbacks to noir, being a big time classic film fan. I’d like to share this writeup with you here, and I hope you find it not only informative, but enjoyable as well. Skimming through it reminds me how much I love writing about film.
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Background: Recognizing Noir in Blade Runner
Before I delve into the main bulk of this analysis, it is important to briefly recognize, outline, and examine how Blade Runner is heavily influenced by the genre of film noir. While this paper will mainly focus on and explore the theme of memory, there are many other sensory elements that Blade Runner incorporates in order to create an environment and mood reminiscent of traditional noir. Thematically, Blade Runner incorporates many elements of noir besides memory — including ambiguity between good and bad, a sense of hopelessness, and a pessimistic perspective. While these are important, they are not the main focus of this essay, and thus will only be referenced here (Fisher).
Additionally, the aesthetics and setting of Blade Runner are snapshots straight out of any classic noir. Despite the fact that the film takes place in future 2019 L.A., viewers are greeted with a dark and gritty cityscape. This introduction is already a nod to noir: Los Angeles was a popular setting for traditional noirs (and later, neo-noirs); two of the three that I am comparing and contrasting to Blade Runner take place within or around the city.
There is also the element of mystery that Blade Runner shares with its noir predecessors. Blade Runner begins with a voiceover from Deckard, implying that the events of the film are in the past and are, for the most part, his own flashback. The viewer does not know what happened, or what will happen. A similar device is used in traditional noir: the viewer is usually greeted by the protagonist in the “future.” Just enough information is provided that there’s a general understanding of the situation, but enough is withdrawn to create a mystery. While Blade Runner doesn’t have as strong a mystery element as Mildred Pierce (who killed Monte?), Double Indemnity (what happened to Walter?), or even Possessed (how did Louise end up in LA, catatonic?), it provides enough background (especially given the Voight-Kampf test scene prior to Deckard’s voiceover) that the viewer is intrigued to watch and find out just what happened that led to said outcome.
Lastly, of course, there is the cinematography and aesthetics — something Blade Runner conveys masterfully. Noir is retrofitted to future LA, especially visible in the 1940s fashion worn by Rachael and other inhabitants. There are many dark, shadowy scenes, and uses of light and dark which call back to noir. Shuttered windows, a detective’s office, and the abundance of cigarettes bolster the atmosphere, and a general glumness throughout the film stays true to the melancholy tone of noir. With all this in mind, the viewer can begin to recognize structural similarities beyond the aesthetics. The ultimate goal of this paper is to help construct and outline the many parallels and uses of memory as a function of cinema, and how it shaped noir, which in turn helped shape Blade Runner.
Introduction: “Memories … you’re talking about memories.”
The function of memory is quintessential to the genre of film noir. The common noir formula utilizes memory as an essential device that helps to develop, drive, and construct the story. Without the use of memory, noir would be all but impossible; how is one supposed to start from a story’s denouement and trace backwards otherwise? The fundamentals of noir are rooted in detectives and witnesses and the presence of crime, and in order to understand what the present situation is one must be able to access the memories of those who were present for the ordeal (Borde et al). These “memories,” or flashbacks, become the bulk of the story and unravel points of confusion or mysteries that are put in place to enhance the melodramatic effect of the noir. Take classic noirs such as Billy Wilder’s Double Indemnity (1944), for example: the film begins at the end, and only after Walter begins his voiceover do we start from the beginning of the entire story. The same can be said of Curtiz’s Mildred Pierce, released the following year: viewers must know the vague details of the end in order to set up the story’s plot.
There are also many cases in noir where memory becomes an important asset to the story’s credibility — most often in cases where protagonists are mentally unstable and/or suffer from amnesia, creating the presence of an unreliable narrator. 1947’s Possessed presents a good example– the film starts with main character Louise Howell aimlessly wandering the streets of Los Angeles in a catatonic episode. It is only after she is transported to the hospital that she is able to start accessing her memories of what caused her to lapse into a nervous breakdown, and yet, her perspective is the only one ever offered — even though it’s made absolutely clear that she is not remembering every detail of her experience precisely or correctly. On a similar note, It’s also true that most noirs only account for one person’s point of view, thus allowing for bias and skewing of the truth.
Enter Ridley Scott’s 1982 film, Blade Runner; an unprecedented mix of noir and sci-fi, released toward the end of the neo-noir revival in the 1970s-1980s. Blade Runner, despite its sci-fi elements, heavily showcases and makes use of classic noir formula. The film is introduced by a voice over in classic noir fashion, making the film’s “present” the “recollection” of Deckard, the protagonist. In addition, the film mostly focuses on Deckard’s own personal experiences as a Blade Runner (except for the brief deviations where Priss and Roy Batty hunt down J.F. Sebastian). The blind viewer learns, grows, and shapes their own perceptions based on Deckard’s experiences, which breeds bias, forcing people to step back, take another look, and critically analyze to draw their own conclusions. Like noir, Blade Runner makes important use of memories as a driving plot device: but unlike noir, it takes things just one step further by creating a literal and tangible “memory” that acts as one of the pillars of the film’s core.
These literal “memories” exist as physical memory implants, which are used on replicants to provide a sense of emotional security, or, in Rachael’s case, fool her into believing her humanity. In fact, the entire dilemma in Blade Runner — the question of humanity, identity, self-awareness, and authenticity– is firmly rooted in these “literal” memories. These same concepts are often heavily explored in classic film noir as well, through flashbacks that reveal wants, motives, and other human explanations as to why a character made the decision that they did. However, Blade Runner takes and makes masterful use of cognitive estrangement and for the first time in cinematic history, viewers are forced to look at memories as something beyond an intangible fragment of the mind.
From End to Beginning: The Effects and Implications of Voiceovers
Like many noirs of the 1940s and 50s, Blade Runner utilizes a similar formula in order to unravel the core of its story. After the beginning sequence (which features an emotional interrogation, another familiar facet of noir), main character Rick Deckard becomes our narrator and lapses into a voice over: “They don’t advertise for killers in the newspaper … that was my profession.” Deckard is clearly speaking of the past (the movie’s narrative present) as if it has already happened. While the footage that is concurrently shown is taking place in the film’s ‘present,’ it is clear that Deckard is speaking from a future point of view. The viewer’s introduction to his character, then, tells us two things about Deckard and the story: a.), that Deckard has survived and b.), that his profession of being a “Blade Runner” is akin to being a killer, in his retrospective opinion. It’s a spin on the old adage ‘hindsight is 20/20’; and again, a prominent characteristic of narrators and/or protagonists in film noir.
We see this same set up in Mildred Pierce, where Mildred makes similar reflective statements throughout the course of her flashbacks. She is being interrogated (amongst a few other characters) by detectives for the murder of her late husband, Monte, who is found dead in her beach house. In one flashback, Mildred has just left her first husband, Bert, for the wealthy and influential Monte. The scene that follows takes place back in the movie’s ‘present,’ once again returning to the interrogation: “l was in love with him, and l knew it for the first time that night …but now he’s dead, and l’m not sorry. He wasn’t worth it.” In a later scene, she implies that she never really loved him at all, and that she married him for her daughter, amongst many other reasons. It is only now, after these memories have been experienced (and thus given time for ponderance) that Mildred is truly able to look back and realize all of her mistakes — much like Deckard. Likewise, in Double Indemnity, main character Walter Neff recollects his missteps in a voice over he records as he’s bleeding to death from a gunshot. The viewer can draw the logical conclusion that had Walter not acted in specific ways (which are of course revealed throughout the film), he would not be meeting such a gruesome end.
The particular usage and structure of the voice over, however, is drastically different in Blade Runner than it is in traditional noir films like Mildred and Double Indemnity. It is not continuously interwoven throughout the movie as a reference point of sorts, nor is there no actual footage filmed to go along with it. In both Mildred and Double Indemnity, the film alternates between the time of the voiceover and the narrative of the flashback. While most of the focus is placed on the flashback (so much so that the flashback comprises the bulk of the film), continuity is set up with the occasional return to the “present” scene, which allows for small breaks or pauses in the story. There is no associated continuity with the voice over in Blade Runner: it happens once, in the beginning, as Deckard is introduced (in the story’s narrative) for the first time. After that, there is no return to this “future voiceover,” and then film goes on to unfold on its own. This departure is one of many ways that Blade Runner separates itself from the confines of noir, allowing it to be more flexible and experimental in form.
The Unreliable Narrator & Noir
Despite the lack of a continuous “present” baseline in Blade Runner, the voiceover allows viewers to infer more from the film, and to analyze it as a film noir. Deckard doesn’t tell a lot about himself: all that he reveals is that he was, at one point, a “blade runner” who was ordered to kill stray replicants, or androids. He lives alone and has minimal interaction with the world around him. There is really nothing about Deckard presented that would soundly convince a viewer to trust him or take his word. Naturally, someone blindly watching the film would likely overlook this, but it is of utmost importance when considering the film from an analytical standpoint. It isn’t that Deckard is outright ‘unreliable’– he is not depicted as emotionally unstable — but it’s rather that he’s not an easy figure for the viewer to get acquainted with because he is so withdrawn. How can one watch Blade Runner and take the story as it’s told for granted when presented with only Deckard’s experience?
Reliability is of utmost importance when analyzing noir, as most noirs are told from a single or a series of subjective viewpoint(s). In general, most narrators are presented as mundane and/or trustworthy enough so that the viewer doesn’t need to question their verity. But occasionally, our narrators are presented as purposefully contradictory: for example, in Mildred Pierce, Mildred is hinted of being both guilty and innocent of her husband’s murder. She has no motive to kill Monte — in fact, the detectives initially tell her that “they know she’s innocent” and that they have brought her in as a formality. This perception of Mildred is contradicted by the film’s opening scene, where she tries to jump off the Santa Monica pier before being stopped by a cop. Knowing she cannot get out of her debacle, she then tries to frame a friend for the murder. Thus, the viewer knows that Mildred was aware of her husband’s death and was trying to pin it on somebody else. It helps to keep the mystery going, as the viewer is forced to question how they feel about her character.
In Possessed, we see an entirely different situation, where mental illness is used as a device alongside memory to create an unreliable narrator. Louise, a schizophrenic former nurse, slowly reveals to viewers (through a series of flashbacks) that she had an unhealthy, obsessive attraction to“David,”a former lover of hers. The viewer sees Louise become unreliable as she is unable to recall the specific details of events, and then later unable to distinguish reality from fantasy. The film’s concrete ending is only attainable through added narratives: her husband, doctors, and policemen are able to provide an objective portrait of what she has done, thus dispelling any unreliable narration given by Louise.
Literalization: Blade Runner, Memories, & Identity
Thus far, this paper has examined the function of memory in noir and how it and other elements of noir manifest themselves in Blade Runner. Deckard recollects his experiences, looking back through a voiceover, and his memories are the main narrative through which the viewer is guided. However, the rest of the movie departs from traditional noir by quite literally making memories into physical actualities. This literalization is a phenomenon well documented in sci-fi, better known as cognitive estrangement. Cognitive estrangement, coined by Darko Suvin in 1972, is “when the user experiences a scene or idea that is different from our empirical reality, but similar enough that they can see it being a plausible future” (Suvin). It is, essentially, a way of making the mundane fantastical by playing upon already familiar concepts. It is the separation of fiction from science fiction: a new way to read and interpret words, texts, or images on screen to create an unexpected and alternative definition.
Blade Runner, though utilizing memories in traditional noir fashion, plays more upon the cognitive estrangement of “memory” than anything else. Of course, one of the major thematic elements of Blade Runner is memory — but not solely in the conceptual sense. Memory as a function plays only a small role compared to memory as an object. Ridley Scott accomplishes this by using cognitive estrangement to create tangible memory implants, which are used on replicants in order to provide emotional padding and a false sense of humanity. Though these memories are never physically shown in the film itself (only later, in Blade Runner 2049 would they appear), their tangibility is construed in the sense that they can be physically implanted and given to replicants. In other words, ascribing memories as “physical implants” is another way of showing that something is “inhuman” in the world of Blade Runner.
Rachael, unlike the others, was not told of her replicant status by Tyrell, and thus blindly believes herself to be a human being. Deckard administers the Voight-Kampff test on her per Tyrell’s orders, and ultimately concludes that Rachael, despite her high performance, is a replicant. She later confronts Deckard and attempts to refute his findings. She presents him with an assortment of images which she claims to remember, and atgues that these memories are her own. She fondly recalls having a mother and enjoying her childhood. It is only when Deckard informs her those memories are false “implants” that don’t belong to her that Rachael fully realizes that she is indeed a replicant, and becomes upset, fleeing his apartment. Her reaction is understandable, and a perfect example of cognitive estrangement at work: in general, most humans have never even questioned the authenticity of their memories’ origins, because they know that the experiences are theirs and theirs alone. Of course, there are exceptions (psychological experiments on false/implanted memories show this), but not for a second would anyone believe their memories belonged to someone else, or that their memories were not a product of their own mind (or, going further, a physical product separate from their mind).
Take Louise Howell from Possessed for example: despite the fact that she struggles to differentiate the real from the fake, her concerns lie not within the origins of her memories, but rather within the specific memory itself. Louise is undoubtedly human (as all film characters are in films that aren’t science fiction), and despite losing her sanity and sense of self she never once has to worry about her identity. Her memories are the figurative ghosts of her illness, woven into the classic noir narrative that unravels the entirety of the story from end to beginning. At one point during a flashback, Louise is distraught because she incorrectly remembers murdering her patient, when in reality she was out of town, and thus, innocent. Her husband, Dean, interrupts her to set the story straight: “Listen to me. This is all nonsense. I don’t know why you think these things. It’s something for a doctor to find out. But none of it’s true … I know what happened that night. And you had nothing to do with it. You weren’t even there.” It is only after Dean’s ‘narrative’ is added to her flashback that the viewer (alongside Louise) learns the truth.
Rachael, unlike Louise, is faced with a completely different situation. For her, memories are the one thing that ‘make’ her human, and to find out that these memories are not hers completely destroys her sense of self as she knows it. Everything she thought was part of her identity has now essentially been proven to be “given” to her rather than organically created through her own experiences. It is really from this point onward that the idea of “memory” as a tangible object takes off.Roy Batty and Priss, though shown to have their own memories, were inexplicably given some sort of foundational memory implant in order to be “born.” This much can be derived from the context provided by the movie and the creation of replicants. Even though Roy and Priss are able to develop their own memories based on subsequent experiences, one must wonder how authentic these memories are and how original their identities are. Are the memories Roy Batty fondly recalls before his death really his if they were built off of an artificial implant? In a way, this calls to mind nature vs nurture — but even then this cannot be applied, as replicants are creations of man and are in no way a part of nature.
Conclusion
Blade Runner is a transformative piece of cinema. It craftily borrows and incorporates many elements from noir while additionally transforming them into something new and unique. Much can easily be said about its visuals, which incorporate gritty streets and dark cities, as well as archetypal 1940s fashion. As put by Kieran Fisher in his video essay, Blade Runner was the first film to take traditional tropes of the past and transform them into a dystopian world of the future (Fisher). The trope most radically transformed in Blade Runner, however, is the use of memory and flashback. By comparing Blade Runner to other classic noirs, its incorporation of memory can be better understood. Like Mildred Pierce and Double Indemnity, voiceovers are used to tell a story — but unlike these noirs, Blade Runner does not return to the voiceover as a reference point for continuity. Deckard’s voiceover also implies that the film is seen mostly, if not exclusively, though his point of view — a parallel with classic noir. He, like any other detective or suspect, projects ambiguity and uncertainty by inhabiting the role of the unreliable narrator. Going beyond this, not only is memory a theme borrowed, but also transformed into a literal, tangible and accessible object through the process of cognitive estrangement. It is here that viewers truly see the unique union between sci-fi and noir that Blade Runner espouses, better known as future noir. Its total culmination of how memory is used, seen, perceived and transformed shows that the essence of noir is an important foundation and stepping stone for the evolution of future cinema.
Works Cited
Curtiz, M. (Director). (1945). Mildred Pierce [Video file]. USA: Warner Brothers.
Wilder, B. (Director). (1944). Double indemnity. [Video file]. USA: Paramount.
Bernhardt, C. (Director). (1947). Possessed [Video file]. USA: Warner Brothers.
Scott, R. (Director). (1982). Blade Runner (Theatrical Release) [Video file]. USA: Warner Brothers.
Borde, R., Chaumeton, E., Naremore, J., & Hammond, P. (2002). A panorama of American film noir: 1941-1953. San Francisco: City Lights Books.
Fisher, K. (2017, October 05). How Film Noir Influenced ‘Blade Runner’. Retrieved December 06, 2017, from https://filmschoolrejects.com/film-noir-influenced-blade-runner/
Suvin, D. (1972). On the Poetics of the Science Fiction Genre. College English, 34(3), 372-382.
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