I am no fan of the dystopian movies, television shows, or books foisted on the public these days. As I said earlier, the real world is dystopian enough.
Last week Julian cajoled me into going to Blade Runner 2049. The original Blade Runner was one of his favorite films. I fell asleep during it. I got a copy of the book on which Blade Runner was based, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, when it was the Cornell Freshman Common Read a few years ago. I haven’t opened it. Since he still couldn’t drive after dark after his cataract surgery, I acquiesced. We met for dinner at a Thai restaurant in our old neighborhood before driving up to the Imax theater.
Our review: We both thought it was a poor film. The sound was dialed up to 11, so both of us spent half the movie plugging our ears. The violence was gratuitous, and there wasn’t much plot between the slashing. (So how come most of the killing in this movie involved knives? It’s set in 2049, you’d think they’d have lots of nifty ray guns.) Finally, the overt product placements got pretty old after 2 1/2 hours. I’m supposed to run out and buy a Peugeot or a limited-edition bottle of scotch because of this film? Not likely.
Dystopia may be all the rage these days, but I’d prefer a little more utopia.
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