I had forgotten that Blade Runner is a movie about illegal aliens being hunted to death by a cop turned bounty hunter in a Los Angeles abandoned by anyone with means*, where Los Mimilocos Mazacote y Orquesta are the headliners at the Bradbury theater and noodle stands are the norm; a SoCal where the weather is inside out and the fugitives are runaway slaves, destined to die young.
I had also forgotten just how economical the movie is in its story telling, both dialogue and plot. Not a great deal happens and what does happen has been done a dozen times before: a police interrogation, a cabaret, a foot chase, broken fingers, gun shots, a rooftop chase and the hero dangling over a tall ledge.
Yet the disciplined chiaroscuro, the impeccable wardrobe, the tension crammed into almost every scene makes it grind forward towards The End: the inevitability of death that only romantic love makes tolerable.
*As Ana puts it, when the plot begins with Leroy’s interrogation, he’s in Secondary Inspection.