I just watched the director’s cut of Blade Runner again. I remember seeing it when it came out, but hadn’t since. It has become a different movie, because I have changed. What I see in it now that I didn’t the first time:
This summer in San Francisco makes the L.A. of Blade Runner look like Palm Springs.
Ramen never looked better.
And watching it at my 53 years of age, it stops being a story of hunting society’s enemies and now I side with the replicants. These fugitives, living in the margins of society, are exploited throughout their lives and have returned to the earth to try and unlock the secret of extending their days. They just want to to live a little longer. I do this too. I do it by trying to understand the language and lives of my children. I do this when I coach young soccer players and play with them in scrimmage. I do it when I go to the gym and struggle against the damn exercise bike. To try to stay vibrant while being hunted by the nameless bodies who seek to exterminate me is my everyday condition, whether my adversary is eight hours in my Aeron chair or a box of donuts. I just hope I’ll be able to go out with the grace of Rutger Hauer.