Like Tears in the Rain

Blade Runner is a film that has stuck with me since I first saw it. It’s been my go to recommendation for anybody who claimed Ridley Scott was a bad director and a constant recommendation for anyone who was looking for a great sci-fi flick. In many ways, this is true science fiction rather than say, Star Wars, which I classify to be more fantasy in space than anything close to science fiction. As snobbish as it may sound, I do believe a film must hold some intellectual weight, explored via scientific context, to be considered as science fiction. What I mean is that there needs to be an intellectually inseparable bond between the context of the film and its preoccupations. Star Wars doesn’t need to be set in space. Like really, it doesn’t. I’m glad it is. But please, it’s no Blade Runner.

Recently, I was thinking about Blade Runner, and in particular, the last speech that Roy says before he dies atop a rooftop, “All those moments will be lost, in time, like tears in the rain.” He is talking about various things he had seen, things that other people will spend their entire lives not seeing. The film as a whole is incredibly preoccupied with eyes, and seeing and revealing, but where all this imagery eventually points to is fairly indefinite to me – quite possibly because of how untrustworthy perception via vision seems to be, or at least, because of how the film suggests optical skepticism. What does it matter in the end? All these replicants look like people, or, rephrased, all these people could be replicants. Blade Runners use eye monitoring devises while questioning individuals to see whether or not they are replicants, but rather than the visual aspect, the true key in the test is the way in which the subject responds to the various questions. For example, whether or not they are given a default memory programmed into many replicants.

Which begs the question – we all see what we see, but the question is what do we make of our basic stimulations? This question extends to: how do we identify ourselves? Because amidst all these stimulations, whether they are tactile or illusory, is the formation of who we are. When one of these forms of stimulation becomes a point of skepticism or doubt, our identity is at risk of becoming unstable. We become uncertain of whom we are. But, is there a way to deal with this potential threat? For it is evident, in the modern age, the amount of stimulation is becoming more potent and more frequent. Then does the risk, perhaps, increase as well? If so, how do we deal with this?

I’m not sure if there is answer for that. But I keep coming back to that speech when I look for an answer. I think perhaps the lack of an answer is the answer. Who we are, will be lost. All those stimulations, all those moments of self-identification, upon our death, they are gone. But the way they are lost is in the endless rain, or the endless stimulations of our world, hiding those of the individual.

Recently, I had been working on an essay covering the story of my grandpa, and in relation, my relationship with him. We were both children at one point, but to consider, at one point in our lives, there was a time where his formative days were in the past while mine were still to come. How foundational are these moments of confluence between individuals separated by generations. When I ask myself, “What does my grandpa mean to me.” I can only say, although he is alive, he is first and foremost, a memory. A representation of rich 20th century Korean culture that I was never a part of, nor stuck around in Korea long enough to allow it to affect me.

I interviewed him recently, asking about the Korean War, his childhood, his time spent working in a post-war nation. He’d forgotten almost all the specifics. His moments are being lost, one by one. We talked to each other through Skype, a process he hardly understands. It’s jarring, talking to him on a screen, to realize that the man who played with me during my infancy is now half a world away and older than ever before.

I can’t help but feel, that once I answer the question – who is he to me – I will be able to find out who I am a little bit more. A form of stimulation I forgot to mention earlier, the interaction between people. Maybe the answer lies there.