Set in a dystopian Los Angeles of 2019, Blade Runner follows Rick Deckard (Harrison Ford), a former police officer who comes out of retirement to eliminate a group of renegade replicants who have arrived illegally on Earth. During this anti-hero quest, he forms a relationship with a young woman, Rachel (Sean Young), who turns out to be an experimental replicator with human memory. Simultaneously, the film follows the four fugitives, led by Roy Batty (Rutger Hauer), as they search for their creator, the owner of the Tyrell Corporation. The film is an example of the neo-noir genre: a revival of the noir films of the 1940s and 1950s. Like its predecessors, Blade Runner presents a pessimistic view of reality: featuring a world of crowded cities with dark streets, murders and a love doomed to failure. Also characteristic of noir, Blade Runner uses low-key, high-contrast lighting and an eerie, haunting soundtrack. In fact, one of Blade Runner's most effective modes of conveying its thematic message is through its lighting, which intricately emphasizes both the characters and the troubling society in which they inhabit. Say no to plagiarism. Get a tailor-made essay on “Why Violent Video Games Should Not Be Banned”? Get an original essay An important insight can be seen in an early scene in the film, in which Deckard meets Dr. Tyrell and his assistant Rachel. Deckard puts him through what is known as the Voight-Kampf test: an interrogation assisted by a polygraph-like device that can determine a person's authenticity via involuntary emotional responses. The scene begins with Deckard arriving at the Tyrell Company headquarters, a building that dominates the Los Angeles skyline more like a ziggurat than a corporate headquarters. At first, the interior lighting is soft, a rather unusual element of the film. Reflections dance on the walls as newly-acquainted Deckard and Rachel awkwardly chat. Tyrell and Rachel are lit with harsh frontal lighting, all of their features discernible, but flat. Deckard gets a much softer treatment, but he's still lit very brightly and has the added effect of rim lighting which gives him a backlit, almost classic Hollywood glow (suitable for the Los Angeles setting). This style of lighting, as yet unpublished in the film, represents the first feelings of this scene: if their meeting is a little strange, and almost dreamlike, there is little suspicion between the characters; the characters are therefore illuminated to view, as if they had nothing to hide. The mood changes as Deckard notices the brightness of the room; the Voight-Kampf must be given in partial darkness. This brief line serves to signal a change in lighting: a shade descends, slowly obscuring the panoramic view to the rear of the room and obscuring the scene under a veil of shadow. The shadow falls until a single sliver of light can enter. The room falls into darkness and only Deckard and Rachel remain partially lit. Shadows become sharp and defined in harsh light, and the soft edges from seconds ago are now absent. This transition to harsh, low-key lighting, reminiscent of traditional film noir, marks the transition from pleasant introductions to interrogation. Deckard now sits, staring into the darkness, just above where the glow slips beneath the shadow. The rest of his body is immersed in dim light, his shadows harsh and exaggerated. Rachel is sitting in intense backlight, her contours are clear but her features are less perceptible than when she wasintroduction. This transfer into obscurity marks the beginning of suspicion and the investigation. Deckard must peer into both the literal darkness and the metaphorical darkness of the unknown in order to discern the truth about the girl before him. The veil of darkness between the characters is reinforced by Rachel's smoking, which, Deckard assures, "won't affect the test." In the harsh light, Rachel's cigarette smoke creates an opaque, milky cloud between herself and Deckard and, in close-ups, between her and the viewer. With each breath, it is obscured for several seconds as the cloud dissipates and reforms with another silent breath. This girl, who had previously been clearly defined in bright light, is veiled by smoke and shadow. This change in lighting coincides with a growing doubt, both in the story and in the viewer, about his authenticity as a human being. The test ends with Rachel failing to answer a question, not having the emotional experience necessary to discern the correct answer. At this point, it's clear that the girl is a replicant. Tyrell waves her off, and as she crosses the chamber floor, she is fully illuminated again: darkness removed, her true identity is revealed. Outside of the ethereal interiors of buildings like Tyrell's office, Blade Runner has many scenes of cacophonous, layered sounds. The exterior scenes, where hordes of extras move, are superimposed on conversations in several languages, the hum of steam and electricity and the low rumble of transport. These noises are accompanied by a continuous deluge of rain falling in the form of large droplets. One moment, in which Deckard walks through a synthetic animal market, features an undercurrent of bird calls and cattle bleating. Other sounds are even nightmarish: sirens wail ominous, electric screams, and pedestrian signals with robotic voices repeat a surreal mantra: Cross now, cross now, cross now... Don't walk, don't walk, don't walk … These scenes, echoing in diegetic noise, are immersive and effective in creating a vision of a future stifled by overpopulation, and are essential to mediating the film's setting. However, when communicating other thematic elements, Blade Runner does it better with more subtle uses of sound. After clearly informing Rachel that she is a replicant with implanted memories and leaving distraught, Deckard finds himself alone in his dark apartment. The environment is considerably quieter than previous exterior scenes, but ambient noise remains abundant. The low hum of air flowing through the vents provides a deep sound base as well as the ever-present rain hitting the windows. Police sirens and passing vehicles frequently come within range and disappear while Deckard remains silent. Above this subtle sound is the soundtrack by electronic musician Vangelis. This scene features melancholic, reverberated piano. The diegetic and ambient noise of the room seems to complement the non-diegetic soundtrack as sirens and electronic noises accentuate the ends of Vangelis's sentences. At one point, while looking at a photo of who Rachel claims to be herself and her mother, the sound of children playing is audible. Deckard watches, intrigued, as if he can hear these voices. This expert blend of diegetic and non-diegetic sounds creates a blend of the reality of the film and the manner in which it is presented, and the viewer is left wondering what exactly Deckard is experiencing. Is he in his own reality? Maybe Deckard is in something..