Tuesday, BBC1, 11:10pm
Few sequels dare to approach a masterpiece like Blade Runner (1982), but Denis Villeneuve's Blade Runner 2049 doesn’t just approach—it strides confidently into the neon haze, leaving footprints of existential dread. The film, set 30 years after Ridley Scott's original, follows K (Ryan Gosling), a replicant “blade runner” tasked with hunting rogue androids, who stumbles upon a secret that could unravel humanity's precarious relationship with artificial life. Think brooding monologues, stunning cinematography by Roger Deakins (he finally nabbed that elusive Oscar!), and just the right amount of Gosling staring moodily into middle distance.
The score, helmed by Hans Zimmer and Benjamin Wallfisch, picks up the baton from Vangelis’s iconic 1982 soundtrack, trading in nostalgic synth lines for a more modern, abrasive palette. The composers lean heavily into thunderous drones, metallic echoes, and mournful brass, reflecting the bleak, rain-soaked cityscapes of Villeneuve’s vision. Zimmer's signature BWAAAH makes a cameo or two, but it’s the quieter moments—like the haunting, minimalist theme for K—that really resonate. Not to be outdone, Wallfisch contributes layers of delicate yet uneasy ambience that worm their way into your subconscious.
For soundtrack collectors, Blade Runner 2049 is a treat. The vinyl editions (of course, there are multiple variants) are gorgeously designed, often featuring holographic artwork or translucent discs that echo the film’s moody colour palette. It’s the kind of record you can leave out on your coffee table to impress friends with your refined taste in dystopian despair. As sequels go, this one managed the impossible: It didn’t just honour the original—it created a sonic world that feels equally timeless and ahead of its time.
- Paul Allen