Blade Runner is Gay and I Can Prove It
An analysis of Queer allegory in a sci-fi staple
By: Eric La Febre - Jan 31, 2021
Fine, I’m just gonna say it. Blade Runner is an allegory for queer existence in a heteronormative society wherein the titular profession is illustrated as internalized homophobia as dictated by said society. Blade Runner is gay and I can prove it.
To preface, I believe Harrison Ford’s character Rick Deckard is actually a replicant. Within the storytelling in Blade Runner: The Final Cut (2007), it seems fairly overt that characterizing Deckard as a replicant and writing this narrative ensconced in “otherness” was Ridley Scott's intention. I know there has been a long-standing discrepancy over this but Scott himself has confirmed it on several occasions so, ya know, confirmed. Replicants are coded as queer and Deckard is a self-hating queer person. When I use the term “queer” I am implying anyone or anything that does not fit into the heteronormative, femme/cis female, masc/cis male binary.
My suspicions of queerness first arose at the meeting of Deckard and a new version of a replicant early in the movie. As a retirer of replicants, Deckard is invited by owner of Tyrell Corp, Eldon Tyrell, to facilitate a Voight-Kampff test on Tyrell’s most impressive creation: a Nexus-6 replicant named Rachael. During the test, Deckard posits: “You’re reading a magazine; you come across a full page nude photo of a girl.” Rachael interjects, “Is this testing whether I’m a replicant or a lesbian, Mr Deckard?” This is a concise and intentional equating of replicant and Queer identity. The concept of a replicant test itself is a interesting nod to the notion of “passing” in heteronormative society. Passing, as a general concept, is the idea that, despite your Queer identity, you, on a physical and social level, appear to be cis/hetero and “pass” the test of gender and sexual expectation. Obviously the term itself is problematic since it implies a pass/fail binary where “passing” is good and failing is bad. The more you “blend in” the easier life becomes. The Voight-Kampff test calculates, quite literally, whether or not you “pass” as human in this fictitious society.
After the test, Rachael shows up at Deckard's apartment hoping to explain herself. She claims that, despite whatever Tyrell has told him, she is in fact human and not a replicant. She even shows him a photo of herself and her mother when she was a child. Deckard responds by describing a few of her personal memories in detail, memories he normally would have no way of knowing. He explains that they are the memories of Tyrell's niece and that her entire memory is an implant. Heartbroken, she leaves. In the several minutes that follow, Deckard sorts through some of his old photographs. Pictures of his life and family and integral memories from his upbringing. Structurally, there’s an implication that posits the notion that Deckard himself is unsure of his own memories. Wondering if maybe his own history has been implanted. At his core he knows the truth, but he has been so ingrained in believing that replicants are useless and bad that there is no possible way he could be that thing. How could he? He literally kills them for a living. This is the moment we first see Deckard questioning his personal identity.
We see his otherness visible, clearly and elegantly displayed.
Sometime later, immediately following a scene where Deckard murders a replicant amongst a crowd of unphased onlookers, we get to another scene in Deckard's apartment with Rachael. As Deckard cleans himself up, Rachael asks, hypothetically: “What if I go north? Disappear. Would you come after me? Hunt me?” To which Deckard replies: “No. No I wouldn’t. I owe you one. But somebody would.” By this point, she has embraced her existence as a replicant. It is in this same moment, as Deckard turns to face Rachael from behind, in the shadows, a very clear translucent halo is seen on both of his pupils. Visually, this movie emphasizes that characters with this reflective feature are replicants. This reflection is inorganic and a telltale signifier for otherness. We see his otherness visible, clearly and elegantly displayed.
As they walk towards the couch, Rachael asks, “You know that Voight-Kampff test? Have you ever taken it yourself?” Deckard dodges the question, shirtless and unresponsive on his bed. In the following moments, during Deckard’s act of sexual violence, he tells her to say the words “kiss me.” To clarify, I don’t want to breeze past the horrendous actions of the character in this scene -- Deckard is committing an act of sexual violence. Period, end of story. Thematically, this scene is supposed to be an exploration into something that is “forbidden” for Deckard; since Rachael represents “otherness” and Deckard has been taught to despise this “otherness,” his attack is an embrace of all things off-limits. Obviously Deckard is a big piece of shit, so it’s fair to wonder “why is our ‘hero’ using this female presenting person as a sexual object to satiate his own messy internalized phobia and why are we accepting this violent manifestation of his own cognitive dissonance without any follow up or repercussions?” Short answer: patriarchal queerphobic misogyny. Long answer: also patriarchal queerphobic misogyny.
Quite frankly it’s big, “I’m a gay cis white man who voted for Trump” vibes.
Now, looking at this scene through a Queer lens, this scene could be characterized as Deckard’s embrace of his own Queer identity. Since Deckard's attraction to Rachael stems directly from her “otherness,” Deckard is exploring his own personal Queerness in this space of violence. He’s attracted to her Queerness but uses rigid gender and sexual expectation to enact violence as a personal model of exploration. It’s a “I want to maintain normalcy while also dipping my toe into this foreign, yet integral, part of my being” type situation. Quite frankly it’s big, “I’m a gay cis white man who voted for Trump” vibes. This normalcy he’s attempting to maintain is one that commands violence against those who exist outside of the prescribed social expectation. A status quo that is heteronormative, cisnormative and binary exclusive.
Elsewhere we have Pris and Roy Batty, two replicants who are emblematic archetypes in queering femme/masc expectations. In an attempt to make contact with Tyrell, their creator, we see Pris and Roy coaxing information out of replicant designer, J.P. Sebastian. In this scene, they are both incredibly fluid with their motion. They are each direct and flirtatious with Sebastian. I wouldn’t necessarily say it’s a full blown, “Is he…. ya know?” *wrist break* moment, but I think analyzing these characters physical choices is important. Roy Batty is this handsome and physically masculine looking character who is soft both in his touch and his cunning. He is rigid and stoic yet emotional and vulnerable. Pris is charming and ferocious but manages to maintain a palpable strength and a cunning whimsy. Even though we may have just stumbled into Queer multitudes territory, this interpolating rhythm of masc and femme characteristics attributed by both characters is important to note. This fluidity of genderless sexuality gives credence to the notion that these two replicants are surrogates for queer identity in this story.
Warner Brothers (1982)
Later, while Roy is off elsewhere, Pris is confronted by Deckard. The room they are in is filled with dolls, soft pastel pinks, and a hue of rose-colored diffused light. It is a room of heteronormative femme-ness and all things femme as considered by modern social expectation of gender binary. As Deckard scans this room, he locks eyes with Pris who sits among these toys, perfect and statuesque. With a swift and decisive kick, she knocks Deckard all the way to the back wall. In this moment, Pris queers the space. She has taken this masculine act of protective violence and changed the entire scene. As the fight ensues, she leaps onto Deckard's shoulders and clamps his head between her thighs. Thighs that are expected to be objects of satisfaction and objectification under the hetero cis male gaze are instead being used for violence. Since femme-ness is predicated on weakness, daintiness, and softness, this moment of defiance is a clear disruption of expected gender characteristics.She’s queering expectation, and we love to see it.
Now I know you’re probably wondering, “where in the absolute heck is Roy Batty during all of this?” He’s visiting his daddy/god Eldon Tyrell to plant a big ‘ol wet lipped smooch on him before gouging his eyes out. It’s a big, “why did you make me this way, god” moment and the kiss is very sexually charged. Not much else here -- just wanted to point out some gay smooching.
I understand that some, if not all, of these feelings could be some sort of Queer projection. That Queerness is being conflated or specified because the general narrative deals with this idea of “otherness” and that I’m projecting my life experience on to this othering of characters. I could potentially chalk a lot of these interpretations up to this bias -- if it weren’t for the final act of this movie. The act where Deckard combats his Queer desire in a metaphorical bathhouse.
…the only ‘coming’ happening through a glory hole is spelled with a U.
After Deckard kills Pris at the Sebastian residence, Roy returns from having just murdered both Sebastian and Tyrell. He sees Pris’ body and senses Deckard is still in the house. His posture lowers and his facial demeanor changes. In this moment, he has become the predator and Deckard has become the prey. The dominant chasing the submissive. They enter a portion of the house that appears either decrepit, under construction, or both. As the rain pours down on the city outside, the walls of this home glisten with sheets of rainwater. As Deckard hides behind a corner, he hears Roy Batty’s voice echoing: “Show me what you're made of.” Hot. Suddenly, Roy smashes a hole in the wall, grabbing Deckard’s arm and pulling it through the other side. We see opposing shots, of Roy holding Deckard's arm and of Deckard writhing in anxiety and fear pressed against the wall. This is now just a glory hole. This is glory hole behavior. Roy grabs one of Deckard's fingers and snaps it as Deckard howls in pain on the other side. It’s a glory hole for pain. Roy lets go of Deckard's hand but stays just out of eyesight below the hole. Deckard peers through looking for something, anything on the other side. Roy beckons: “C’mon Deckard, I’m right here. But you’ve gotta shoot straight.” Deckard fires a shot through the gloryhole and misses. Roy responds: “Straight doesn’t seem to be good enough. Now it’s my turn. I’m going to give you a few seconds before I come.” Straight doesn’t seem to be good enough = you’re not satiated by your heterosexual existence. “Now it’s my turn,” which just implies a juxtaposed or opposite approach to this straight approach. It’s a gay approach. That’s the deal. Also, “before I come.” I mean I know the cinematic implication is “before I come after you” but the only ‘coming’ happening through a glory hole is spelled with a U.
Warner Brothers (1982)
I understand that the trope of “hunter becoming the hunted” is an intentional device in this movie, but when painted over the laughably un-nuanced backdrop of cruising in a bathhouse, it becomes a causal Dom/Sub fantasy. As Roy dashes away into the cover of shadow, Deckard snaps his finger back into place, letting out a howl of pain. We cut to Roy in another room hearing these howls in the distance. Now, if we hadn’t just seen Deckard snapping his finger back into place, you could easily hear this sound as a howl of ecstasy. Somewhere in the distance of this bathhouse, the sounds of unmitigated pleasure resonate through the damp corridors of future sexual encounters. Similar to Pris existing in a visually femme space and subverting the expectation of character through violence, Roy has done the same in this moment. Since our current popular heteronormative and bigendered expectation for male-presenting people is any shade of blue, rugged textures, and general discomfort, adding a level of overt homoeroticism into the space causes the expectation of heterosexual desire to be subverted and gay sex to reign supreme.
Based on these examples, it seems next to impossible not to equate replicant existence with queer identity. Especially in the early eighties, a time where queerphobic rhetoric was not only commonplace, but encouraged. As an allegory for personal and internalized homophobic turmoil, I think Blade Runner is excellent. Even as a movie alone, allegory aside, it’s fantastic. And it is also very gay.