I saw Blade Runner 2049 yesterday with my 22-year old son. We chose seats with no one in front of us, and got the full impact of sight and sound.
The primary story was one person’s search for his truths: of his origins; of his memories; of his feelings. Who was the infant in the woman’s arms? Are my earliest memories real? Are my feelings true?
The lead character might as well have been lifeless. His activities were dictated by his designated role in society, by what was expected of him. It was no surprise that he preferred ethereal company over people.
He constantly repressed the memories and feelings that were most important to him, that could have given his life meaning. Despite being repressed, his memories and feelings impelled him to discover and confront his truths.
It was a defining moment when his earliest memory was recognized as real. He could feel at last. He could cry at last. He could scream through the cracks in the repression that had produced an unreal, unfeeling existence.
The miracle of life was celebrated, especially at the end. Like the first Blade Runner, society’s members who were deemed unworthy of life were the ones who cherished this fleeting moment most dearly.
See it up close and personal, in a theater with a good screen and sound system.