It's interesting that Ridley Scott in 2021 is still blaming Pauline Kael for the weak box office of Blade Runner in 1982. And he's seemingly upset she didn't meet him before writing a critical review?? As he says, The New Yorker is a classy magazine, and somewhat intellectual. How could a review in such a place single-handedly bring a movie down? It doesn't make sense. I loved reading Pauline Kael's movie reviews back in the 80s and 90s in the New Yorker, and her reviews from the 60s and 70s, collected in her books, are also still worth reading. I often disagree with Kael, but her reviews are wonderfully written and insightful. Here's a link and some quotes in case any one is curious. To me this review is like a sophisticated version of an "honest trailer," just done Kael-style....
“Blade Runner,” Reviewed
Pauline Kael’s 1982 review of Ridley Scott’s futuristic thriller “Blade Runner,” starring Harrison Ford.www.newyorker.com
"....The congested-megalopolis sets are extraordinary, and they’re lovingly, perhaps obsessively, detailed; this is the future as a black market, made up of scrambled sordid aspects of the past—Chinatown, the Casbah, and Times Square, with an enormous, mesmerizing ad for Coca-Cola, and Art Deco neon signs everywhere, in a blur of languages. “Blade Runner,” which cost thirty million dollars, has its own look, and a visionary sci-fi movie that has its own look can’t be ignored—it has its place in film history. But we’re always aware of the sets as sets, partly because although the impasto of decay is fascinating, what we see doesn’t mean anything to us. (It’s 2019 back lot.) Ridley Scott isn’t great on mise en scène—we’re never sure exactly what part of the city we’re in, or where it is in relation to the scene before and the scene after. (Scott seems to be trapped in his own alleyways, without a map.)....
Scott’s creepy, oppressive vision requires some sort of overriding idea—something besides spoofy gimmicks, such as having Deckard narrate the movie in the loner-in-the-big-city manner of a Hammett or Chandler private eye. This voice-over, which is said to have been a late addition, sounds ludicrous, and it breaks the visual hold of the material. The dialogue isn’t well handled, either. Scott doesn’t seem to have a grasp of how to use words as part of the way a movie moves. “Blade Runner” is a suspenseless thriller; it appears to be a victim of its own imaginative use of hardware and miniatures and mattes. At some point, Scott and the others must have decided that the story was unimportant; maybe the booming, lewd and sultry score by Chariots-for-Hire Vangelis that seems to come out of the smoke convinced them that the audience would be moved even if vital parts of the story were trimmed. Vangelis gives the picture so much film noir overload that he fights Scott’s imagery; he chomps on it, stomps on it, and drowns it....
All we’ve got to hang on to is Deckard, and the moviemakers seem to have decided that his characterization was complete when they signed Harrison Ford for the role. Deckard’s bachelor pad is part of a 1924 Frank Lloyd Wright house with a Mayan motif. Apart from that, the only things we learn about him are that he has inexplicably latched on to private-eye lingo, that he was married, and that he’s tired of killing replicants—it has begun to sicken him.....in the one really shocking and magical sequence, Daryl Hannah, as the straw-haired, acrobatic Pris, does a punk variation on Olympia, the doll automaton of “The Tales of Hoffmann.”
....But this replicant-detector test comes at the beginning of the picture, before we have registered that replicants have no early life. And it seems utterly pointless, since surely the Tyrell Corporation has photographic records of the models it has produced—and, in fact, when the police order Deckard to find and retire the four he is shown perfectly clear pictures of them. It might have been much cannier to save any testing until later in the movie, when Deckard has doubts about a very beautiful dark-eyed woman—Tyrell’s assistant, Rachael, played by Sean Young. Rachael, who has the eyes of an old Murine ad, seems more of a zombie than anyone else in the movie, because the director tries to pose her the way von Sternberg posed Dietrich, but she saves Deckard’s life, and even plays his piano. (She smokes, too, but then the whole atmosphere is smoking.) Rachael wears vamped-up versions of the mannish padded-shoulder suits and the sleek, stiff hairdos and ultra-glossy lipstick of career girls in forties movies; her shoulder comes into a room a long time before she does. And if Deckard had felt compelled to test her responses it could have been the occasion for some nifty repartee; she might have been spirited and touching. Her role is limply written, though; she’s cool at first, but she spends most of her screen time looking mysteriously afflicted—wet-eyed with yearning—and she never gets to deliver a zinger.....
The only character who gets to display a large range of emotions is the fourth of the killer replicants, and their leader—Roy Batty (the Crazed King?), played by the tall, blue-eyed blond Dutch actor Rutger Hauer, whose hair is lemon-white here. Hauer (who was Albert Speer in “Inside the Third Reich” on television last May) stares all the time; he also smiles ominously, hoo-hoos like a mad owl and howls like a wolf, and, at moments, appears to see himself as the god Pan, and as Christ crucified. He seems a shoo-in for this year’s Klaus Kinski Scenery-Chewing Award. As a humanoid in a homicidal rage because replicants are built to last only four years, he stalks through the movie like an evil Aryan superman; he brings the wrong kind of intensity to the role—an effete, self-aware irony so overscaled it’s Wagnerian. His gaga performance is an unconscious burlesque that apparently passes for great acting with the director, especially when Hauer turns noble sufferer and poses like a big hunk of sculpture. (It’s a wonder he doesn’t rust out in all that rain.) This sequence is particularly funny because there’s poor Harrison Ford, with the fingers of one hand broken, reduced to hanging on to bits of the cornice of a tall building by his one good hand—by then you’ve probably forgotten that he is Harrison Ford, the fellow who charms audiences by his boundless good humor—while the saucer-eyed Hauer rants and carries on. Ford is like Harold Lloyd stuck by mistake in the climax of “Duel in the Sun.”
....“Blade Runner” is musty even while you’re looking at it (and noting its relationship to Fritz Lang’s “Metropolis” and to von Sternberg’s lighting techniques, and maybe to Polanski’s “Chinatown” and “Fellini’s Roma,” and so on). There are some remarkable images—for example, when the camera plays over the iron grillwork of the famous Bradbury Building in Los Angeles the iron looks tortured into shape. These images are part of the sequences about a lonely, sickly young toymaker, Sebastian (William Sanderson), who lives in the deserted building. Sebastian has used the same techniques employed in producing replicants to make living toy companions for himself, and since the first appearance of these toys has some charm, we wait to see them in action again. When the innocent, friendly Sebastian is in danger, we expect the toys to come to his aid or be upset or, later, try to take reprisals for what happens to their creator, or at least grieve. We assume that moviemakers wouldn’t go to all the trouble of devising a whole batch of toy figures only to forget about them. But this movie loses track of the few expectations it sets up, and the formlessness adds to a viewer’s demoralization—the film itself seems part of the atmosphere of decay. “Blade Runner” has nothing to give the audience—not even a second of sorrow for Sebastian. It hasn’t been thought out in human terms. If anybody comes around with a test to detect humanoids, maybe Ridley Scott and his associates should hide. With all the smoke in this movie, you feel as if everyone connected with it needs to have his flue cleaned."
^I've heard it's actually pretty good. Personally, I think Ridley Scott is the most overrated director in history and the medieval setting never catches my attention so even being a fan of most of the actors in the movie, this wasn't a movie for me.
He's definitely not overrated, but he is uneven. I think your comments about his emphasis on visuals is valid. He's a calculated filmmaker, which I also find to be Spielberg's weakness.I don't find him overrated but I do find him at the mercy of his material. I will admit that due to this and his visual sense, his pictures can seem to be style over substance. He's made a lot of pictures and watching them it is pretty easy to see his first priority is the way they look. When he gets a good story to combine with his visual palette this is when you tend to get a tremendous film from him.
He's made a lot of pictures though and is not a Kubrick nor a Paul Thomas Anderson, nor a Scorsese. His calling card is visual stylist. I think he is a great filmmaker but one that has not really been as careful to attempt to make great films.
I can see that this film is extremely violent. Not for me.
I'll not see it. The previews are not inviting despite the star power.
I am not a millennial.
To be fair to Scott, he is amazing in terms of his visuals. I still don't care for the vast majority of his movies but undeniably, he's got a great eye.He's made a lot of pictures though and is not a Kubrick nor a Paul Thomas Anderson, nor a Scorsese. His calling card is visual stylist. I think he is a great filmmaker but one that has not really been as careful to attempt to make great films.
To be fair to Scott, he is amazing in terms of his visuals. I still don't care for the vast majority of his movies but undeniably, he's got a great eye.
And he's going to do it all over again with Kitbag. Big period piece. Likely tiny box office.So, a big period film like The Last Duel is about 22 years out of step with what a mass audience wants to see in a cinema.
And he's going to do it all over again with Kitbag. Big period piece. Likely tiny box office.
I did not feel there was much to the story when I read the book.
To really work, there needed to be more of a story about the characters so that we would have something invested in the duel.
I mentioned in the Kitbag thread that the title was terrible.
I would certainly be interested in a movie about Napoleon as there have not been many. Bondarchuk's War & Peace and Waterloo both did a great job of showing some of the spectacle of the era.
I watched this last night. The casting of Damon and Affleck as medieval figures didn't really work for me. Part of me was expecting the story to turn into a Python style parody.
I also agree that the Rashomon-style narrative didn't offer up much in the way of insights, but more perfunctory entertainment around who would take credit for doing or saying something noble. Or who would come off as being more the a-hole. Guess what? It's gonna be the other guy!
For example, when Jean and Le Gris apparently make peace at Crespin's party, the person who says there should be no ill will between servants of the King changes depending on who is telling the story. Finally in Marguerite's version, it's Crespin who says it, not the other two. It's funny, but offers nothing insightful about the two characters or humanity in general.
As far as why they didn't have Marguerite's perspective be consistent with what's in the historical record, that's a pretty brutal account and personally I wouldn't want to see that played out in a live action film. I think they made it egregious enough in the movie to get the point across.
For example, when Jean and Le Gris apparently make peace at Crespin's party, the person who says there should be no ill will between servants of the King changes depending on who is telling the story. Finally in Marguerite's version, it's Crespin who says it, not the other two. It's funny, but offers nothing insightful about the two characters or humanity in general.
Duel is entirely, often sensationally watchable without ever quite justifying why it needs to remind us what the world has done to women for centuries. (Or how it chooses to do that by playing out an extended rape scene not once but twice.)
Damon and Affleck cowrote the screenplay with writer-director Nicole Holofcener (Enough Said, Friends with Money), which was probably wise; a story so centered on sexual assault without a woman's voice in the script would feel frankly gross in the year of our Lord 2021.