Books like Blade Runner

As a longtime fan of Ridley Scott's "Blade Runner" as well as an excited newcomer to the British Film Institute’s Modern Classics series, it saddens me to register my disappointment with Scott Bukatman's short monograph for the series about the film.For those of you who are not familiar with it, the BFI Modern Classics series is, according to the inside cover, "a series of books devoted to individual films of recent years [wherein] [d]istinguished film critics, scholars, and novelists explore the production and reception of their chosen films in the context of an argument about the film's quality and importance."Although Bukatman's is only the second book that I've read in the series -- the first being Joshua Clover's about "The Matrix" -- I've actually come to expect a lot from the series. Clover's, while certainly couched in a particular argument about "The Matrix," was an exceptional little book, and I still borrow from its ideas today (especially his discussion of 1999 films). After reading it, I researched the BFI's website and learned that they’ve published books on dozens of great films, including "Jaws," "Blue Velvet," and "The Thin Red Line,” among others. But a book about "Blade Runner," a film near and dear to my heart? Well, that just takes the cake.Cut to a few weeks ago when I receive Bukatman's book in the mail, and I'm brimming with excitement. I cracked it open, and to be honest, the introduction, “On Seeing, Science Fiction and Cities,” didn't disappoint. Take, for instance, this early passage about the presence of visual imagery in the film:"'Blade Runner' is all about vision. Vision somehow both makes and unmakes the self in the film, creating a dynamic between a centred and autonomous subjectivity (eye/I) and the self as a manufactured, commodified object (Eye Works). The city is also known through vision. Vision actively makes the metropolitan world in a sustained encounter with delirious detail, yet because 'Blade Runner' under-determines the lessons of that encounter, it effectively undermines interpretive certitudes." (7-8)After reading this, I said to myself: Yes! Here's someone who's going to give this great film a compact, accessible, and yet still critical overview, and it's all available in this pocket-sized book! Hallelujah!Well, this attitude didn’t last long.For Bukatman then pulled a fast one on me as he then provided a nearly 30-page chapter re: how the film was made (i.e. the behind-the-scenes production side of things). A mostly factual account that wasn’t salvaged by its moments of analysis that were too few and far between, this section just didn't excite me in the least. For the record, it's not that there isn't good information here, because there is. Not to mention that when we're talking about a film with a history like "Blade Runner," it does need a little contextualizing (the film, as many people know, HAS BEEN through three very different cuts, and at the very least this needs to be explained). But for some reason, Bukatman just loses me in this section. Maybe it's because the book is only about 80 pages in total, and when we account for all of the pictures and film stills -- some of which are so arbitrarily placed, it's silly -- this first chapter constitutes about half the book. Who thought this was a good idea? Can't I get all of this information on Wikipedia? (In fact, I'm pretty sure that I have.) Then again, the book was originally published in 1997, before the Internet really took off, so perhaps the author deserves some benefit of the doubt. In other words, I’m sure that I could have dealt with this first chapter if I felt as if the whole section featured some overarching argument, but it doesn’t. There are no clear transitions or relationships between the subsections -- an annoyance that becomes more pronounced in the later, more analytical chapters. Naturally, I got a little miffed at the end of each subsection because I knew that I would have to prepare myself for an entirely new argument in the next one (and sometimes the subsections themselves didn’t feel like arguments). I imagine the feeling is not dissimilar to what it would be like if drivers had to stop their cars at each red light in order to turn off the car and restart the ignition (and it’s probably a good thing that cars aren’t made this way.) Admittedly, it may sound like I’m exaggerating a bit since each of the three chapters features a general theme that’s supposed to hold it all together -- the making of the film, the city, & replicants/mental life. However, they all manage to feel so tacked on, so unanimated and dull.But above all else, what really irks me about Bukatman's book is his writing style. Now, before I go on a tear about something as seemingly arbitrary as an author's style of composition and how well (or not well) it sits with a reader, I would like to preface said tear by saying that someone’s writing style, while something that I often quibble with, is rarely (if ever!) something that I wholeheartedly disagree with and cannot stomach. Bukatman appears to be an exception to this rule. Another reviewer noted how Bukatman's book is like "the worst kind of film lecture, where the professor is more interested in impressing you with his massive vocabulary than anything else." I mostly agree with this assessment, except it's not the vocabulary itself that frustrates me. I mean, I'm the type of person who loves to slog his way through the densest and most obtuse kinds of writing, such as one encounters in philosophy and critical theory. Bukatman's writing attempts to mimic this, but it simply lacks musicality and cadence. Every sentence somehow sounds exactly the same.I’m going to turn to a random page right now to offer up some evidence for what I’m saying. Okay, here’s one: “From the text of the opening crawling titles to the virtual absence of narration, to the way the story ended, significant differences existed throughout” (36). Maybe my ears are just sensitive, but for me so many problems abound in this sentence that it’s painful. When I was in college, a professor often remarked to me that good writers know how to end their sentences. I'm of the opinion that each sentence should drive into the next one, creating continuity and anticipation w/r/t what’s to follow. That being said, I’m sure you can empathize with how I felt upon (re)reading “significant differences existed throughout.” I’ll put it like this: If I were a teacher and this were one of my student’s papers, I would uncork a fresh pack of red ballpoint pens and write “YUCK!” next to these four words. I mean, is this not bush league? Also, I don’t know what that comma is doing after “narration,” and I wonder if I’m the only who registered a bit of irony when I read the word “crawling,” since it basically sums up how I felt as I (re)read this sentence. Maybe this is a good time to lodge a final complaint: Bukatman just feels too detached from some of the things he says. While it’s difficult to explain to someone who hasn’t read the book, it’s as if he wanted to weave this complex tapestry of slick, artful writing about this film, and I’m on the other side of the page thinking to myself: Dude, it’s f*cking “Blade Runner”! This movie rocks my socks off! Why aren’t you excited!? Don’t you want the world to know how much you love this film?Well, that's my review. Now it's time to contact the BFI to ask if I can write the book about "Donnie Darko."