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Yar, you be here: Blow-Up > Customer Reviews Blow-Up Customer Reviews (55 - 57 of 58 Reviews)A tad inflated.
Very influential "art" film of the 1960's, directed by Michelangelo Antonioni. At first blush the setting seems to be Swinging London, but the city is curiously abandoned: empty roads, empty parks, empty cafes. Is this by design? Or merely illustrative of Antonioni's lack of funds? And those who DO populate the city seem more like art-house ideograms rather than Swinging Londoners. In other words, here somber, there somber, everywhere somber somber (e.g., mimes; zombies watching a Yardbirds concert; a painter who doesn't even pretend to know what his paintings mean . . . and such). This isn't London; it's Resnais (slightly more frenetic Resnais). The worst that can be said of the movie is that it probably hasn't aged well . . . starting with David Hemmings' white jeans. Viewers who were born any year after this movie was made will respond to the mini-orgy scene and the pot-party scene with an exasperated, "Oh, so what!" and get bored fast. But it's important to recognize Antonioni's daring, perhaps especially if what titillated Sixties' audiences seems tame in 2001. In large measure, Antonioni (and other avant-garde auteurs, of course) opened the doors to freer cinematic expression with movies like *Blow-Up* -- and all on the coattails of MGM, in this case! And while the Sixties "commentary" is now hopelessly dated, the way our fashion-photographer hero stumbles onto an unseen murder is ingenious, and the presentation of it is worthy of a master. I also love that spooky park, with its ceaselessly whispering trees. All in all, a fun "puzzle picture", tailor-made especially for college grads. Not by any stretch one of the era's more rigorous masterpieces -- such as the director's own L'Avventura -- but still important. Enough!
I saw this movie when it came out and was very impressed (and also very bored by what seemed like hours spent enlarging the photo of the murder scene - well, none of these other "reviews" minded giving away the plot). As I recall (and I just stopped watching after about 45 minutes), it is not about the futility of hedonism at all. It is about the futility of the system. Life has no meaning, no purpose. None. The most a person can accomplish is, if not love, happiness, content. Maybe it's about the futility of everything, though our hero, the other "reviewers" notwithstanding, does believe very much in some things (and smiles frequently). So why did I stop it? I stopped it when our hero in his car nearly ran down a group of black men and didn't care. I should have stopped it 10 minutes earlier when he referred to the "queers and poodles" by the antique shop. Stereotypes and bigotry. At least the "queers" were a couple, they had each other. What did he have? I know that this "review" won't be posted, amply confirmed by the good people of California in particular who are moving mountains to combat "queers." And this film came out in 1966 in England, only two years after the Civil Rights Act in this country. The black men our hero nearly ran down got off lucky. This could have been a good movie, maybe it is. But after a week of hearing about the good people in California, I won't watch it. Worth the admission price
Blow Up's plot unravels quite slowly by contemporary standards. Indeed, it probably unravels quite slowly by any standards. If you've seen any other Antonioni films, you'll know that the man was not principally interested in plot. Indeed, Blow Up doesn't have much of a plot. None of this matters, because the film presents a convincing study of a time, a hedonistic life-style, and an attitude: in some ways it can be compared with La Dolce Vita; both about photographers, both quite drawn-out, both critical of hedonism, both quite impressive. One could argue that Blow Up is dated; it is very 1960's, very "swinging London", very hep - and some of the material in it that caused controversy at the time (Principally its brief nudity) wouldn't make a viewer blink now. But it presents us with an interesting portrait of a period, and a "scene" that could only have existed in that brief moment before the 60's turned into the 70's and this particular brand of "youth culture" was forever lost. And it is convincingly well-made. It isn't Antonioni's best movie, but it's not far off. David Hemmings is, as usual, top drawer as the almost-thuggishly bored, scowly fashion photographer, and the supporting cast are all fine. Don't buy it ahead of Antonioni's The Passenger, which is the superior film and arguably a masterpiece, but do take a look. It's worth the admission price if you're in the mood for it.
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