It's easy to forget now, nearly thirty years (!) after its theatrical release, that "Blade Runner" was pretty much a box-office flop. But it's true; this science fiction film is one of those movies that needed time to ripen.
The evolution of home theaters certainly has helped. Some would argue that every science fiction film should be a visual banquet, and special-effects hedonists were not among those disappointed when the film first appeared back in 1982. Director Ridley Scott filled the screen with all sorts of doo-dads, from flying cars to gigantic pyramid-shaped buildings to scene after scene of neon-noirish streets drenched in ever-present rain. As home viewing has improved from VCRs to laser discs to DVDs to blu-rays, the movie's standing has grown considerably.
But great SF requires a great plot, too. Based on Philip K. Dick's novel "Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?", "Blade Runner" is the story of Rick Deckard, a man whose job has been to hunt down and kill "replicants" -- androids made for doing hard, dangerous work on other planets. Those who dare trespass on Earth are destroyed. Deckard is called back into service when four of these beings set foot on terra firma in search of their origins.
Funny (peculiar) thing, though: The replicants in this futuristic world can seem far more human than the downtrodden, rain-beaten humans themselves. This is especially true of Roy Batty, played with diabolical wit and undeniable pathos by the young Rutger Hauer.
Yet "Blade Runner" has had a troubled history. Scott did not have complete creative control over the original -- or even the "Director's Cut" that was released several years later.
In fact, there have been seven different versions of the film. Only for "The Final Cut," released in 2007, did Scott finally get the version he really wanted. Many of the differences might not be apparent even to "Blade" fanatics, but some changes were sorely needed. Chief among them: Joanna Cassidy's death scene has been digitally altered to use her own visage, thereby vastly improving what had been one of the clumsiest stunt-double sequences in the history of cinema.
I've lost count of the number of times I've watched this movie. Over the years, I've been asked repeatedly, "What is the difference between entertainment and art?" My best answer: Entertainment lasts, at best, a few hours. Art we must return to again and again, finding, each time, different nuances and shadings of meaning.
And I confess: I just can't get enough of those flying cars.