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Blade Runner was a notorious box office disappointment when it first hit theaters 40 years ago today in the summer of 1982, a consequence of opening within weeks of E.T. The Extra Terrestrial. The underwhelming financial returns weren’t the only issue that Ridley Scott‘s classic faced during its initial theatrical run. After screening the science fiction noir mystery to test audiences, Warner Brothers feared that the film was too dark, ambiguous, and heady for general viewers. They demanded extensive edits before Blade Runner could be released, including a more hopeful ending.
Among the changes that plagued the initial theatrical cut was a last-minute voice over recording by Harrison Ford that narrated the film. The narration served as Rick Deckard’s “internal monologue,” and put into words the deeper thematic implications of the story that Warner Brothers feared audiences wouldn’t pick up on. Ford was notoriously unenthused about recording the additional lines. He felt that the narration didn’t allow the viewer to think for themselves and fully engage in the film. Ford told Playboy in 2002 that he was forced to do the additional lines due to a clause in his contract.
As a result, Ford’s dull and monotone delivery of the expository lines feels just as uninspired as the cowardly studio concerns that forced him to record them. What is ironic is that the monologue isn’t just a shameful example of studio meddling; the lines don’t make any sense within the context of Deckard’s character arc. Deckard is processing his feelings of love, empathy, and humility for the first time. His experiences with the replicant Rachael (Sean Young) open him up to emotions he’s never been able to put into words. Blade Runner didn’t need to spell out Deckard’s feelings, because the gorgeous musical score by the late great Vangelis already captured them perfectly.
The Greek composer was already renowned for his mastery of classical, ambient, and experimental electronic music before Scott approached him about composing Blade Runner. Vangelis was coming off of an Academy Award win for his work on Hugh Hudson‘s Best Picture winner Chariots of Fire. Scott knew that Blade Runner needed a very different type of score to distinguish itself from blockbusters like Star Wars and Raiders of the Lost Ark. Compared to the inspirational fanfare of the John Williams tracks, Vangelis’ Blade Runner score is understated and haunting.
It was the perfect choice for the unique subgenre of the film. Blade Runner is an old-fashioned hard-boiled detective story, not an action spectacle. Deckard had more in common with Humphrey Bogart’s Sam Spade than he did with Luke Skywalker. Vangelis’ score captured the existential musings of a lifelong private eye, who has seen just enough of the world’s ugliness to have turned cynical. Deckard is able to disappear within a crowd during the opening “Main Titles” theme. As he wanders through the lonely streets of a cyberpunk Los Angeles, Deckard’s musical theme fades into the rest of Vangelis’ score in “Blade Runner Blues.”
Vangelis does make the score slightly more propulsive when Deckard is doing what he does best: investigating. The irony of Blade Runner is that as Deckard (a human, supposedly) falls in love with android, Rachael (Sean Young), he becomes less artificial himself. Deckard is so committed to his profession that he’s essentially doing a machine’s work. Vangelis merges the new wave electronics with more traditional noir music in the bleak undertones of the “Blush Response” theme creating a soundscape to match Deckard’s inner emotional transformation.
It’s the relationship between Rachael and Deckard that makes Blade Runner so powerful. It’s obvious why general audiences may have felt that the film was emotionally dry if they compared it to E.T.. While E.T. is about the oversized emotions of children, Blade Runner is about the loneliness that draws people together — a more nuanced approach to human connection. Ford’s sharp delivery of Deckard’s lines isn’t only because Deckard is confused by what he feels, but because he’s holding back. It’s a subtle performance that doesn’t require an exposition line to spell it out. During Deckard’s initial conversation with Rachael, all you need is Ford’s precise shifts in body language and the flirtatious notes of “Rachael’s Song” to indicate that a change has come over him.
In the most iconic moment in the film, Deckard is saved by the replicant Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer) after attempting to kill him. In his final moments, Batty describes all the beautiful things that he’s seen over the course of his life in the famous “Tears in Rain” speech. Amazingly, Hauer improvised his lines. Deckard is watching in silence, but it’s clear how Batty’s words have affected him. Deckard is in awe that Batty chooses to remain hopeful during his final moments. Vangelis’ “Tears in Rain” highlights this simple realization with three piano notes.
When the voiceover was added, it diminished the simplicity of the moment. Deckard instantly becomes a philosopher, saying “All he’d wanted were the same answers the rest of us want.” These lines make it seem like Deckard already understands what he should take away from the ordeal. It’s unnecessary; the simplicity of the Vangelis track shows that the questions that Batty raises are ones that Deckard will be contemplating for the rest of his life.
Thankfully, Denis Villeneuve’s 2017 sequel Blade Runner 2049 acknowledged the ambiguity of the original by not answering many of the lingering questions. Hans Zimmer’s score captures the same intensity, aimlessness, and existentialism of the Vangelis soundtrack. It’s slightly more synthetic, as the main character K (Ryan Gosling) is established as a replicant from the very beginning. K learns the same lessons about life’s fleeting beauty that Deckard did; in a touching homage, this is where Zimmer chooses to bring back the “Tears in Rain” theme.
Blade Runner earned its legacy because it is a film that demands multiple viewings. It’s a film that provokes discussion, analysis, and debate over topics still relevant to today’s audiences. It’s more powerful for the film to hint at its larger ideas than express them directly through dialogue. Vangelis’ work is why four decades later, Blade Runner is just as haunting and thoughtful as it was always intended to be.
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