'Blade Runner' wasn't the only great sci-fi movie to come out in 1982

One of only several great movies of 1982

This weekend sees the release of Blade Runner 2049, the long-awaited (and long-delayed sequel) to 1982's Blade Runner. That Ridley Scott film, starring Harrison Ford as Rick Deckard, a burned out detective in a near-future corporatist dystopian Los Angeles charged with hunting down some escaped synthetic humanoids, wasn't a huge hit at the time. But its reputation has grown over the years, and it is now widely recognized as a visual masterpiece, influencing countless subsequent media both in and outside of the sci-fi genre.

But Blade Runner wasn't the only sci-fi/fantasy film to come out in 1982. For some reason, and despite lacking a Star Wars movie, 1982 hosted a near-embarrassment of riches for the genre, with the films released succeeding critically and commercially in establishing both genres. As a result, all of these films have been returned to, in some fashion, either given long-delayed sequels, prequels, or rebooted (whether openly or not). And all of the attempts to recapture the magic of 1982 simply have not measured up. Below I recall five of my favorites, and examine why their imitators fell short.

Yes, those are Montalban's real muscles

Star Trek II: The Wrath of Khan. This is by far my favorite on the list, and one of my favorite movies of all time. Directed by Nicholas Meyer, and starring the original series cast plus original series villain Khan (Ricardo Montalban, reprising his role), the genetic superman bent on revenge, "TWOK" wraps a surprisingly profound meditation on aging, loss, and death up in a rousing sci-fi adventure. Aided by a great score by the late James Horner (his first major film work), unexpectedly mature performances by William Shatner (as Kirk) and Leonard Nimoy (as Spock), and, of course, by Montalban's dynamic Khan, TWOK revitalized a franchise that had seemingly been heading into senescence. Please, PLEASE watch it as soon as you can, but not before watching the original series episode "Space Seed" that functions as its prequel. Both are worth your time. And then, while you're at it, watch Skyfall, the 2012 James Bond movie that is a stealth remake of TWOK.

In 2013, J.J. Abrams (whom I have defended before) directed Star Trek Into Darkness, which ended up being a not-so-stealth remake of TWOK. As a summer blockbuster, STID, was better and smarter than average. If I had not been so fond of TWOK, or perhaps had never seen it, then I probably would have enjoyed STID, maybe even loved it. But TWOK ruined it for me. STID plays coy with its reveal, but then tries basically to be the same movie as TWOK once it reveals its villain as Khan (played by Benedict Cumberbatch) (with annoyingly knowing winks and nods to fans about it). But since it takes place in alternative Star Trek continuity, Kirk and Khan's history gets stripped of its context and meaning, leaving behind all the pathos and thematic weight of TWOK in the process. A much better movie would have involved the villain being Khan's second-in-command, whose goal is to resurrect his leader, a goal Kirk and co. must thwart. The only defense of J.J. that I can offer here is that he never really liked Star Trek much, and so relied on the screenplay given him (from which he still executed a good movie) that he did not fully comprehend or significantly attempt to alter. Khan is an iconic villain, but you can't just steal him from a better movie and expect him to work the same magic.

Thief. Warrior. Barbarian. King. Bodybuilder, 

Conan the Barbarian. Despite having an absurd title, a then-novice actor (Arnold Schwarzenegger, then basically unknown), and a fantasy setting derived from a pulp book series of already decades old by the time the movie came out, Conan the Barbarian just works. (Also, I know this is a fantasy film, but I like it so much I'm going to break my rule. Plus, when Oliver Stone [!] wrote an early draft of the screenplay, he set it in a post-apocalyptic reprimitivized Earth, so maybe it is actually sci-fi.) I've already sung its praises before (in hoping that it gets a sequel), so allow me to quote myself:

Don’t let the title fool you: Conan the Barbarian is a great movie that deserves a proper sequel. Combining images and themes from disparate times and places, it creates a fantastic world, vaguely familiar yet appropriately alien for an era before recorded history, with a vast untold history and mythology. 

Much like 1977’s Star Wars, Conan put its own spin on ancient storytelling archetypes: the hero’s journey, trusted companions, noble sacrifice, few against many. As Thulsa Doom, Darth Vader himself (James Earl Jones) is one of its best assets: a sort of primeval Jim Jones, who orders followers to kill their parents (and themselves) at his whim to prove the “power of the flesh” over steel. It all unfolds amidst a mélange of practical effects and fascinating ideas from writer-director Millius (a fascinating man himself), set to a rousingly old-fashioned score by the late Basil Poledouris.

I don't have much to add to this. I do have something to say, however, about subsequent entries in the Conan franchise. First, there is Conan the Destroyer, which I have seen. This movie bizarrely abandons the mythic, just-short-of-bombastic trappings of the first film, adding Wilt Chamberlain (?) as a villain and dramatically upping the comedy and slapstick. Conan (and Conan) deserved better. The recent attempted reboot, starring Jason Mamoa, I have only seen a portion of; that was enough. Drenching the proceedings in CGI and forced darkness, this new Conan coasted on well-worn clichés rather than drawing from the epic tradition of human storytelling, as did the original Conan. The creators of the property were probably hoping that "brand recognition" would allow them to get away with creative laziness, but audiences and critics alike rejected the attempt, and squandered the legacy of the original Conan in the process.

When will we get a Freddy vs. Jason-style It vs. The Thing? 

The Thing. The Thing is a disgusting movie. I mean this as a compliment for it is disgusting in the best possible way. This sci-fi horror film, directed by John Carpenter, is about an Arctic research crew who have to contend with a fearsome alien that can infect any living thing and assume its shape. Kurt Russell is the lead, but Keith David and Wilford Brimley, among others, also contribute to the frightening, paranoia-drenched, claustrophobic experience. And oh yeah, it's gross. It was the 80s, so Carpenter and his crew didn't have access to CGI. You'd think that might be limiting, but you'd be wrong. Using nothing but good old-fashioned practical effects and animatronics, The Thing produces scene after scene of nightmare fuel; in one memorable instance, an actor reacts to one of the titular creature's transformations by saying "you've gotta be fucking kidding me." See The Thing, and you'll not only agree that this is one of the most honest horror movie reactions in film history, but you'll also find yourself mouthing the words in agreement. The Thing also inspired this hilarious video, which is another point in its favor.

Which brings me to the 2011 prequel, also called The Thing. Making a prequel is always a risky bet, and this was a bet that failed--or so I'm told; I have not bothered to see this movie. The only thing that needs to be said about it, in my view, is that it replaces the 80s-style gore-and-guts practicality of the original with the sterile unrealism of CGI. Practical effects can be bad; see, e.g., Plan 9 From Outer Space (and, for that matter, CGI can be good; see, e.g., The Force Awakens or Mad Max: Fury Road, both of which used more CGI than you might think). But, at their best, practical effects do not impede creativity, but facilitate it. When you can't just turn to a computer to render something for you, you have to think pretty hard about how to make it in the real world; as a result of actually existing, in some form, that created thing can then have more of a realistic bearing in the world itself, and therefore in the film. CGI, on the other hand, at its worst, liberates the imagination, but in a way that makes the deceptions on the screen obvious, and distracts from the intended effect. What I've seen of The Thing remake suggests the latter in abundance.

E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial: These days, especially with Stranger Things and It, nostalgia for a certain sense of the 80s--technology-free, biking from house to house, hanging out with your neighbors and communicating with him via walkie-talkie, walking around your small hometown, creating an entire world beyond the stifling presence of adults--is all the rage in our pop culture. This is due, in large part, to Steven Spielberg, especially but not limited to E.T. I hardly need to summarize its plot, which just about everyone knows at this point (kindly alien suddenly enters the life of a young, fatherless boy, changing everything), or point out the contrast with the vision of alien life presented by Carpenter in The Thing (consonant with Spielberg's earlier Close Encounters of the Third Kind, but clashing dramatically with his later War of the Worlds). E.T. was a box office and critical smash, cementing Spielberg as a legend, and crystallizing for those who saw it at the time and those who see it afterward the sort of gauzy 80s nostalgia so in vogue today, a kind of double recollection, one real, and one fake (with the two of them intermixing).

This is the one area in which our pop culture seems (so far) capable of competently and consistently drawing from its predecessor. Stranger Things (which I shall review soon on this blog), J.J. Abrams' Super 8, It, and other media have all profitably mined this vein of 80s nostalgia. In all cases, though, one wonders why this era seems to have such a powerful pull, whether it is truly worthy of the constant revisitation our current culture creators seem intent on giving it, or whether they are only doing so because of the fondness they hold for it as an accident of their birth, and, finally, whether the insistence upon returning to and homaging can instead lead to redundancy (as in the case of the competently made and enjoyable Super 8; sorry J.J.) and creative inhibition.

I already sang the praises of Blade Runner above, but I'll happily sing them again. Combining a moody, evocative, synthesizer-based soundtrack by Vangelis with images so unique in their presentation that we had to coin a new term ("tech noir") to describe them, and reinforcing all of that with heady meditations on what it means to be human, Blade Runner is simply incredible (but be sure to watch The Final Cut; there are many versions floating around out there).

As I wrote above, Blade Runner is getting a sequel this weekend, after 35 years. We don't know yet whether it lives up to the original, although early signs are good. But whatever happens, we will always have 1982. It was not a year of special significance; the significance of the year in film is in the lack thereof. These were just the kinds of movies being made in the early 80s. Today, we have made many attempts to try to recapture the magic--with much more mixed success. Something tells me there won't be many people trying to recapture the magic of 2017 in 2052.