Deckard and the Fatal Jouissance
Written by Chris (Kru’23)
Blade Runner (1982) belongs to the popular trend of Sci-Fi works revolving around encountering the Other. In Rendezvous with Rama, Clarke utilizes a space object of mysterious identity as the focal point of tension: the Other which is foreign to us. In Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein, the titular protagonist created the Other himself. The Other is a being foreign to us, yet critically, its uncanniness must be sourced from a similarity to us. The Other cannot be totally foreign; it must bear resemblance to us, however small. Murakami’s 1Q84 illustrates this point clearly by flipping it. Just the existence of the other moon is enough to spread a feeling of uneasiness throughout the novel.
The Other has been the prized being of Sci-fi since its own conception. Through the reflection of us in the Other, we may study ourselves by studying the Other. In other words, the Other has traditionally been positioned as a tool for us — for our sake, our purpose.
This is the role the Replicant occupies in Blade Runner. A being that is not quite human, yet in form, is practically indifferentiable from us — this is where the film improves on the book: having actors play the Replicants, we perceive them as even more human, more like us.
Lacan takes a more literal approach towards the Other. In Lacanian psychoanalysis, being is only possible through the Other. The Other allows us to be ourselves. Lacan demonstrates this with Descartes’s “cogito, ergo sum”. “I think, therefore I am” has allowed man to avoid skepticism towards themselves for the better part of our history. Lacan provides two alternative outcomes from this statement: that 1) the I in both cogito and sum are the same subject, which would make the inference of sum from cogito superficial; or that 2) the I in cogito and sum are different.
The I who thinks is not the same I who is. The Cartesian subject is split into two, which Lacan signifies as the barred subject (S). It is through the Other, namely language and its epigones (culture, tradition, image), that the cogito (the thinker) becomes the sum (the being represented). The cogito and the sum are two opposite states, constantly at war for dominance in our psyche.
Lacan shows the error in Sci-Fi’s tradition of the Other. The Other is not some foreign, undiscovered object in space or in the future. The Other is instead already present in our current world, masked behind the projection of itself within us. The Other constitutes our existence, and in turn, we obscure their identity.
The Other in Blade Runner is therefore not merely the Replicants, but it is the sprawling force of a mechanical society. Blade Runner is a world of hyper-industrial capitalism full of signifiers: brands, advertisements, images, semblances of culture and language. This is the Other present in the film.
In this kind of society it is no wonder that our subject (Deckard, and most other humans) is found to have minimum will to live, practically depressed. They have no genuine feelings other than the remnants within the memories of a word. The play between “murder” and “retire” illustrates this point. They live in an overabundance of Jouissance — in a world which depends on it — and as a result, are given the most fatal Jouissance of all: to be human. Deckard is castrated of his own humanity, his will to live.
This is what Rachael becomes to Deckard: simply an object of desire signifying his objet petit a: to be human. Deckard, who lacks what he perceives to be human as (to love, to desire), projects these characters to the synthetic Rachael: for if even this synthetic robot can desire, can love, can become a “real” human, then surely he can too.
Rachael provides Deckard this hope. She becomes Deckard’s tool in his quest. This is why he rapes her: he doesn’t actually care about her; he only cares about what she represents for him: the hope of becoming human. He doesn’t care whether she wants to be human or not, he forces her to be one.
This is the point of Blade Runner. It is not the mere question “what is it to be human?”, but it is a critique for the dangers of being blinded by our questions; of being so preoccupied with our desire for existence that we forget what comes after it: how should we exist?
Deckard’s ignorance is juxtaposed by Batty. He too wants to live, to exist; but he realizes that for him to live, others must be hurt. So he surrenders his existence. However precious it is to him, it is not worth the violence upon others.
This observation is, ironically, even more evident in those who watched Blade Runner expecting a deep philosophical question and complaining when they didn’t get one. As if they are entitled to some grand answer from the film; as if the film is a mere tool, obligated to serve them some deeper meaning.
Like Deckard, they are blinded by their own egotistic quest. They are more than willing to force the film to be their tool rather than what it wants to be. And in the same breath they complain about Deckard’s character!
To the question “what is a human?”, Blade Runner only answers: what does it matter? Damn to be human! To love is not limited to humans.
