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I've been watching Blade Runner again. We were poor, but we went to see it. My father felt strongly about supporting good science fiction films, so this was something we budgeted in. I was raised on science fiction and had read all the Dangerous Visions anthologies. I had never read the book, but loved Philip K. d**k's short fiction. I don't think we took Mom or Creach, as it was expensive and Mom was not big on SF, and my sister was impatient. We watched it with love and awe. Later, we'd watch it over and over on cable. I still vaguely associate it with Christmas, as we watched it on TV while he set up the train track and Christmas tree, and during the long decoration process, and because my soldier and watched it snuggled up in his Mother's living room the week of our first anniversary. There is that touch of sense memory, of cold, of the smell of pine, of the two living rooms superimposed. My dad and I couldn't understand why everyone didn't love it as we did. for the record, I prefer it without the voice over and the drive at the end.

It amazes me that it still as stunningly beautiful as it was the first time I saw it, that it's analogy effects hold up so well nearly thirty years later. That it's still a film worth discussing and arguing about. It amazes me still that Rutger Hauer never had a good career, as most of Roy Batty's characterization was all him, including most of his last scene. I still think it's Harrison Ford's best performance. It amazes me that after all these years, I take something new away with me every time, some detail or thought I'd never noticed or had before.