I saw Blade Runner 2049...

That in the Year 2019, our reality won't reflect the melancholy wonders of Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner", or for that matter the Phillip K. Dick novel upon which it's based, designates its sequel to the same, alternate-reality scheme. However, Denis "Arrival" Villeneuve's sequel, "Blade Runner 2049", produced by Scott and penned by Hampton Francher (the original's scriptwriter) and Michael Green (of "Logan", "Green Lantern" and "Alien: Covenant" fame) becomes its own speculative entity, while savoring the original's flavor.

Scott's classic was characterized by an invading Japanese, cultural influence, but since Japan has opted for a less effective, economic prowess, the predictions of '82 no longer hold weight. Gone is the Asian panache, perhaps to symbolize Japan's subdued status, but at least the original's New Wave, anguished-android glow still occupies the landscape.

In Scott's world and Villeneuve's re-entry into it, the androids are pretentiously called replicants. They're still abused and confused, just like Rutger Hauer's Roy Batty and Daryl Hannah's Priss. That's good, because their rebellious response makes sense in such a cold, cruel, computerized world. Also, to underscore the replicants' empathetic traits, classic questions remain: Are they mere devices for us to use as we please? Do these "machines" have the right to snap from their stupors and revolt? For that very matter, do they ever dream of electric sheep? Fans of both Dick's novel and the Scott/Fancher adaptation would say yes, but in "Blade Runner'"s extended universe, the same prejudices and misconceptions persist decades after the fact.

In particular, they hound beleaguered, replicant blade runner (yep, you heard right) Officer K, portrayed with somber, Harrison Ford-esque focus by Ryan Gosling. During K's duties and musings, he stumbles upon a long concealed plot with startling consequences. (Say, do androids reproduce?) However, K must substantiate his suspicions through investigation, which leads him to former blade runner Rick Deckard, reintroduced per Ford's seamless artistry. Deckard, we learn, has been out of the loop for some thirty years. As expected, he's not easy to find and once K does locate him, the old gent appears as woeful and vexed as when last seen. 

Fans of the '82 classic may not fancy what's become of Deckard: his fate having been mulled over by viewers for so many years that this film's lonely relegation might feel anti-climatic, if not disenchanting. (Personally, I felt quite at ease with it.) But as significant as Deckard is to the mythology, "Blade Runner" followers must surely realize he's not its only component. 

In this new story line, we're offered additional characters (android and human) to accentuate and oppose Deckard's painful perspectives: replicant designer/guru Niander Wallace (a next-generation edition of Joe Turkel's Eldon Tyrell), portrayed with creepy calm by Jared Leto; "Guardians of the Galaxy'"s Dave Bautista as renegade farmer Sapper Morton; "Walking Dead'"s Lennie James as child, sweat-shop overseer Mister Cotton; Robin Wright as cynical but supportive Lt. Joshi; Mackenzie Davis as sexy Mariette; Sylvia Hoeks as tough Luv; Carla Juri as memory-maker-with-a-profound-secret Ana Stelline; and paying us a sentimental cameo, Edward James Olmos as our old pal, Gaff. The film also contains a sporadic, holographic beauty in Ana de Armas' Joi. 

In addition to being easy on the eyes, Joi gives the plot its sense of normalcy and hope, not unlike Dick's Rachel, who came to be played by the stylish Sean Young. Since leading-lady Joi owes much to leading-lady Rachael, she isn't as novel as her counterpart, but fills the spot with loads of charm. As with Deckard, Joi's position in the story may not satisfy those craving an elongated manifestation of Rachael/Young, whose presence is felt, but only in a throbbing-thread way. Again, "2049" may link to the old, but as mentioned, it's also its own thing; and allows Joi to present her own compassionate and encouraging variation: ironic since she's artificial, but then, per Dick's fable, does that matter in cognition's pensive plan?

The story's revealed secret, in the wake of its "human" touch, is powerful, but perhaps not as important as its emotional and visual execution. (If the truth be known, "2049" cuts more along the lines of "Futureworld" and the recent, revisionist "Westworld" than its founding, cinematic chapter.) Atmosphere is what matters here. Though "2049" isn't characterized with as much wet, twinkling glitz as its predecessor (snow is this picture's rage), it still looks great--no, make that feels great--in the Syd Mead way we desire, and when required, remains respectful to the initial film's gum-shoe framework. To have abandoned that aspect would have been disastrous, but Villeneuve, Francher, Green and cinematographer Roger Deakins never let us down, granting us another fascinating, futuristic Mickey Spillane. (For the record, Deakins pays such exquisite homage to Jordan Cronenweth's influential '82 photography that many are proclaiming his work Oscar worthy.)

Indeed, beyond the film's moody meaning, it's the engrossing splicing of old and new that makes this follow-up worth one's while. "Blade Runner" fans, therefore, should be satisfied with the film's overall aura and may possibly find  "2049" even stronger upon repeated viewings. It may not be the vision they long sought or imagined, but as time passes, they're destined to rank it high on the sequel scale.