Ridley Scott, Blade Runner, 1982

Once upon a time, science-fiction cinema took pleasure in painting clinical and aseptic universes in which every dimension of life came to resemble those smooth and perfect objects produced by the design of the 1960's. Even man himself -aerodynamic, wrapped in close-fitting suits and with a shaven skull- tended to resemble an impeccable machine, devoid of personality, with a great deal of transparency and transparency. Even man himself -aerodynamic, wrapped in tight suits and with a shaved skull- tended to resemble an impeccable machine, devoid of personality, of great transparency, pure prototype of what could be a retouched individual, simplified, rationalized by science, halfway between the original beast and the robot. His vehicles had the finesse and geometric precision, the aerodynamism that was so fashionable at the time. The places where they circulated were empty and clean, spaces of intersideral space, sidereal spaces made of glass, steel and plastic materials, more or less naïve projections of the urban speculations of modern architecture...[+]