Blade Runner 2049 (Denis Villeneuve, 2017)

Thirty-five years it's taken, and the pressure that's created for it not be a cannibalisation of its iconic prequel has been quite substantial. It bodes well, of course, that even though the director has changed from Ridley Scott to the competent if less coherent Villeneuve, it has Scott's seal of approval and also the original screenwriter Hampton Fancher (albeit one that was dumped by Scott the first time around for penning something that concentrated too much on interior drama).
It's too much to expect that it could quite match the startling originality of the original, but it goes close enough. It's overlong, and while Ryan Gosling in laconic Drive mode occupies the screen comfortably as the replicant blade runner looking for the long-disappeared Harrison Ford and his own origins, he's also not allowed the acting licence Ford was due to the nature of the character. But my God, does it look stunning. The future is even more rain-lashed, toxic and grimy now. You'll be hard-pushed to find a film that captivates the eye so much in any genre. Also, unlike what the trailers would have led you to believe, it actually contains surprisingly little incessant action for a modern sci-fi sequel. This is also a good thing, because while they're sometimes fuzzily expressed, there's room for a lot of complex ideas about identity and purpose.
In short, it bombards you with mood for nearly three hours and then comes to a genuinely moving conclusion. A lot of questions are left open, even if some of the ones from the original film are also dealt with, so we'll just have to hope that the third instalment, when it comes, is handled with such panache.

8/10