Prometheus Usurping God: comparing Blade Runner and Mary Shelley's Frankenstein

Michael Travis BA/LLB (Hons) October 2000, University of Auckland English Department Please notify me if you wish to cite this paper, or use extracts in your work. A PDF is also available via Google Drive. Introduction While seemingly disparate works, there is in fact a common theme underlining both Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein and Ridley Scott’s Blade Runner (Director’s Cut). The novel and the film both concern Man’s usurpation of God’s creative role, and deal specifically with the creation of artificial humans. In Frankenstein it is the monster who has become eponymously linked with the title, and in Blade Runner it is the androids known as ‘Replicants’. Both creations are powerful and potentially murderous, and thus rightfully feared by the populace. However, in both works we are taught to empathise with these outcasts, and learn in fact that their ‘evil’ is a result of mistreatment at the hands of Man. It this intersection of theme that I wish to develop in detail, while recognising what I see to be the crucial distinction between the works - that they both represent the social and moral climate of their respective periods (19th and 20th Centuries). Frankenstein and frobidden powers Shelley’s Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus was written in 1816 and published in 1818. It was an important novel within the Romantic/Gothic traditions, and yet somewhat already more modern than both. While the novel has standard content like pale, sickly men tortured by guilt, and stormy, existential landscapes etc., there is often a coldness to the description, where the Gothic emotions give way to clinical dissection.             The novel’s central argument is a deliberation between the use, application and possible rejection of science and natural philosophy, and where the study encroaches on religion. The novel questions which has the greater benefit and potential, natural or applied science, and compares them with the ultimate power of God. Whichever is more favoured at one time comes and goes with the interests of Victor Frankenstein.             As a young man, Victor enthusiastically devours the work of the natural philosophers of classicism - Albertus Magnus, Cornelius Agrippa, Paracelsus etc. - but eventually tires of them. His finds his interest rekindled at University when he meets M. Waldman. Here the novel investigates the two faces of science; that which favours the “chimeras of boundless grandeur” versus the uncovering of  “realities of little worth”. The first is the branch of natural philosophy which seeks to “penetrate into the recesses of nature and show how she works in her hiding-places”, while the second (represented by the “modern masters” of applied science) seems only capable of bursting the perennial balloon, debunking concepts such as immortality and the alchemical philosopher’s stone.             Victor makes a disastrous choice when he chooses to favour the first branch of science; this is his “fatal impulse”. Science as a pursuit of knowledge in itself is acceptable, but not that which seeks to interfere with God’s domain (that is, mastery over nature). Thus when Victor is drawn to the study which might grant “new and almost unlimited powers [to] command the thunders of heaven, mimic the earthquake, and even mock the invisible world with its own shadows”, however honourable his intentions may be, they show too much hubris to be forgivable by the Christian public of the 19th Century. This explains the alternative title of the novel; Victor is the “modern Prometheus” who dares to steal that from God which no Man should have control over [1].             Victor’s sin is his pride, as he delights that “a new species would bless [him] as its creator and source” and that “many happy and excellent natures would owe their being to [him]”. He mocks God with his self-described claim of “I, the creator”. For this  sin it is inevitable that what he should create is but a mockery of life. That where God created Man in his own image, Frankenstein can only create monster - an ‘unalterable evil’ that will destroy his world. From this point on Victor curses the gratification of seeking knowledge and wisdom as “a serpent to sting”. Science is seen as a dangerous weapon, the lust to command it an “intoxicating draught”. Finally, Victor’s act is compared to that of Satan, who was plunged into Hell for threatening to usurp God. Having “trod heaven in [his] thoughts” and “exulting in [his] powers”, Victor is now “like the archangel who aspired to omnipotence” but is instead “chained in an eternal hell”. Shelley’s point is that when science transgresses on the territory of God, it can only be the author of destruction. Such a caveat is given in the form of Victor’s monster and in Walton’s pursuit of the North Pole - not as explorer - but to find the “wondrous power” for “the dominion [it could] acquire and transmit over the elemental foes of our race”. Fortunately, Victor’s story manages to dissuade him from this non-pious goal. So, firstly the point is made that man should not attempt to challenge the exulted position of God with science and pride. This also explains that where man is able to rival God’s power to some degree, it cannot ever be pure, but only perverse. While Victor “possessed the capacity for bestowing animation” and the “spark of being” was in his power to command, his creation was a monster. Likewise he was unable to fulfil any of the requirements of a Creator in respect to his creation. The monster complains thus:             “All men hate the wretched; how, then, must I be hated, who am miserable beyond all living things! Yet you, my creator, detest and spurn me, thy creature, to whom thou art bound by ties only dissoluble by the annihilation of one of us. You purpose to kill me.” His complaint comes to a head when he accuses Victor, “how dare you sport thus with life?” While able to accomplish the base task of bestowing animation Victor is incapable of extinguishing any of his duties as creator. Thus he has been reckless with the power of life. Also, where God is capable of infinite mercy, Victor harbours a murderous grudge against the monster for its crimes. Blade Runner: Man or machine? Ridley Scott made Blade Runner in 1982, based upon an unfocused novella [2] by sci-fi magnate Philip K. Dick. The novella was more concerned with man’s destruction of the natural world, than his creation of the Replicant species. However the film chose to concentrate on the question of Man’s creation of artificial life, and specifically, artificial humans. Nonetheless, fragments of the novel’s other concerns do enter the film in places, and where relevant, I will reference this as such. Taking as our starting point the Director’s Edition of the film (released 1993), a short synopsis is in order. Set in a future where our planet is a damaged and dark thing,  polluted beyond repair by mankind, we learn that a cybernetic company called the Tyrell Corporation has been designing androids to mimic the functions of human beings. The genius behind this work is Dr Eldon Tyrell, who personally designed the brains of the Nexus 6, a brand of android so perfectly real that the company motto is “more human than human”. The Replicants are indistinguishable from ordinary humans, except by extensive “Voigt-Kampff Empathy” tests, which measure the involuntary fluctuation of the pupils in response to a series of questions designed to garner an emotive response. While in the novel, humans share a collective empathetic guilt at their  annihilation of animal life (not shared by the androids), the film prefers to base this test on the assumption that where humans have emotions, Replicants usually don’t, having been only recently ‘born’ (though as grown adults [3]). However, the androids are capable of developing their “own emotional response[s]” in time, and there are models that have implanted memories to speed up this process. In such a case the Voigt-Kampff test is rendered virtually useless. This begs the question: at what point does a Replicant cease to be a “machine” and become a human? Nonetheless, the androids have built-in termination dates to prevent their ever becoming truly indistinguishable from humans, and rogue ones are hunted to death. “This is not called extermination. It is called retirement.” In an early conversation, Rick Deckard, a Blade Runner (special police who hunt Replicants), is questioned about the degree of certainty in his job. “Replicants are like any other machine,” he says. “They’re either a benefit or a hazard. If they’re a benefit, then they’re not my problem.” When asked if he has “ever retired’ a human by mistake”, he is trapped to admit that “in [his] position, that is a risk”. Despite sounding sure of himself, Deckard always looks visibly ill when he manages to ‘retire’ a Replicant. Their deaths are as every bit real and disturbing as human deaths. Creature Empathy Because the line between human and Replicant is so dubious (our protagonist even learning in the end that he has been an android all along) the empathy of an intelligent audience may be taken as a given. On one level the Replicants are tremendously vulnerable, hunted down and murdered as no more than rogue machines, and on another we respect their determination and greater physical abilities. We sympathise with their plight; four years or forty, they are a fellow species who are aware of their mortality. And yet even in that short time they have learned to live in a way that we should envy. Roy teaches Deckard this valuable lesson at the close of the film - despite Deckard having killed all of Roy’s fellow Replicants, Roy nonetheless saves his life. “I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe” he says, closing with words that “all these moments will be lost in time like tears in the rain”. In a way this important life lesson is lost because Deckard is actually a Replicant, and so Mankind never shares the realisation of the sanctity of all life. The same point about Roy’s experiences is made earlier, when he confronts the Tyrell scientist responsible for designing optics. “If only you could see what I’ve seen with your eyes.” It is times like this when we realise just how much these creatures have surpassed us in wisdom and experience. Yet is the strength of our empathy not damaged by the violence these Replicants are capable of? Surely it is natural to fear what might surpass us? Frankenstein finally refuses to create a partner for the monster on the grounds that they might breed, and “a race of devils would be propagated upon the earth who might make the very existence of the species of man a condition precarious”. Like the monster, the Replicants are capable of superhuman strength and advanced intelligence. Because they are human in appearance they are more of an enemy within, than a external threat. However, as they are hunted down one by one for their crimes, a familiar feeling shapes the audience’s emotions. The movie makes it clear that the Replicants are not in themselves evil, but were driven to their deeds in an effort to flee their slavery, and to prolong their lives against the built-in four year death sentence. Here we can begin to see the similarities between the plight of the Replicants, and that of Frankenstein’s monster. They too are “malicious because [they are] miserable”, and seek assistance from their creator. The monster asks, “to whom could I apply with more fitness than to him who had given me life?” Likewise, the Replicants relentlessly pursue personal conference with Dr Eldon Tyrell as their goal. When their leader, Roy, finally manages this confrontation, he is short and to the point - “I want more life, fucker” he demands. Upon learning that nothing can in fact be done (“We made you as best as we could”), he kills Dr Tyrell. This scene has fascinating metaphysical implications, and like Frankenstein can be described in Miltonian terms. Roy represents the fallen angel (literally fallen to Earth from space) [4], and Tyrell calls him the “prodigal son”. He seeks to challenge his creator face-to-face, and his grievances are justified. Again we see that when Man seeks to usurp God’s role, he must pay an awful price. Roy is able to kill Dr Tyrell, because his ‘God’, is actually no more than a human. Interestingly, the monster is less willing to take a superior stance with Victor. “Remember,” he says:             “...thou hast made me more powerful than thyself; my height is superior to thine, my joints more supple. But I will not be tempted to set myself in opposition to thee. I am thy creature, and I will be even mild and docile to my natural lord and king if thou wilt perform thy part.” But the monster is only willing to accept this ‘natural’ hierarchy [5] up to a point. If Victor isn’t willing to continue his role as Creator, with the duties that entails, then the monster will cease to be Victor’s “Adam” and “rather [be] the fallen angel”. When ultimately turned down, the monster cries out; “Slave ... you have proved yourself unworthy of my condescension ... You are my creator, but I am your master; obey!” Like Roy, when his Creator fails him, he is willing to take deadly action in revenge and frustration. Differences in period attitudes If we wished to be reductionist we could say that both Frankenstein and Blade Runner follow the same metaphysical path. We have the Promethean figure in Victor Frankenstein and Dr Tyrell, who, out of pride, challenge the power of God. We have their Neo-Miltonian creations who fulfil the role of Lucifer in rebellion. Both point out the danger inherent in playing God. For Frankenstein’s Christian audience, ‘playing God’ is a form of blasphemy, and a sin in its itself. For a modern audience it is less the non-pious audacity of the act, than its destructive potential that concerns us. In the wake of nuclear fission and genetic engineering, with cloning and artificial intelligence making the headlines, it is the real-life ramifications that are alarming. Blade Runner is a world stripped of natural resource, and rendered barren by science. The negative potential of science is made very clear in bursts of flame, and the rain which never ceases. More apparent is the attitude difference to the ‘creator’ question. In Blade Runner the Replicants pursue Dr Eldon Tyrell to make him answer for their in-built life-sentences. He replies that their short life-span is qualified by their powerful abilities; “the light that burns twice as bright, burns half as long; and you have burned so very brightly”. While a valuable statement, it fails to appease. Because of Tyrell’s inability to fix this problem, Roy kills him. Roy has effectively judged the actions of his creator and found them unsatisfactory - the analogy to our own position should not escape a modern audience. Afterall, we too have a unsatisfactorily finite life-span. Can we also ‘kill God’, as Roy, “the prodigal son” does? Has, in fact, our science and our philosophy done this already - as Nietzsche famously stated? Perhaps then it is our right to assume the mantle of creator, in order to repair the deficiencies of the original job. This is an argument I don’t think any serious Christian of Shelley’s age would dare to take seriously. And Victor rejoices that at least he has destroyed his research, and refuses to share the secret of life with Walton, or any other person. Another major difference between the two texts is their treatment of the artificial creature. Because of the challenge to God that the monster represents, Shelley’s audience, while pitying the creature’s misfortunes, would have no qualms in desiring its destruction (either way) as an aberration. Blade Runner strikes me as more prosaic. While the ‘bad’ Replicants are necessarily destroyed, it is as punishment for their crimes, not for their nature. To prove this point, the two ‘neutral’ Replicants in Deckard and Rachel are allowed to ‘get away’. Having monitored Deckard at an arm’s length the entire time, Detective Gaffe leaves him a message in the form of a tin unicorn. This shows that he knows about Deckard’s recurring unicorn dream - in other words, he knew of Deckard’s Replicant identity. But the important thing is that the tin unicorn is a sign that they won’t be pursued - they are being allowed to live. Gaffe even shows respect for Deckard’s ability, finally eliding the conceptual difference between Replicants and humans; “You’ve done a man’s job, sir”. The very fact that our protaganist is allowed to be one of the ‘enemy’ shows the film’s mature approach to where one can draw a line in such matters. I think this concept represents the mindset of the late 20th Century. Science is still depicted as a dangerous force that we ought not to play with, but nor is it suggested that we turn our backs on what we have created. Frankenstein says, ‘this should never have been, and so it will never be again’. Blade Runner says, ‘this should never have been, but now we ought to deal with it’. [1] The original Prometheus, we may recall, is forever chained to a rock having his liver pecked out by eagles. Meanwhile, the ‘fire’ he stole provides a boon for Mankind, but is also at the heart of the atom bomb. So we have to ask, even for something as central to our existence as fire, was it worth it? [2] Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? [3] Dr Tyrell explains it thus; “They are emotionally inexperienced with only a few years to store up the requisite experience which you and I take for granted.” [4] At one point he even quotes Paradise Lost; “fiery the angels fell, deep thunder rolled upon their shore, burning with the fires...” [5] Creator > creation.