I find the presence of Blowup on my movie page to be a degradation to all that is right and good in the cinematic industry, but my sense of civic duty has managed to overcome my painful gag reflex. Much in the same way that the world should be exposed to the truth about John Malkovich, it must come to understand the sheer horrible-ness of this cinematic travesty that dares to label itself "a classic."
I will preface my rant with this information: I very much wanted to see this movie. I was desperate to see this movie. The accidental photography of a murder - with the photographs as the only evidence - was a brilliant plot concept, in my estimation. Further, director Michelangelo Antonioni's vision had received such critical and artistic acclaim that my sisters and I actively sought out and rented this movie, on the premise that our cinematic studies were sorely lacking in exposure to this Gem of the Silver Screen.
After slightly less than 111 minutes (we sped through the vastly over-hyped menage-a-trois scene) of naked breasts, polyester pants and - I'm not making this up - tennis mimes, the film had devoted all of 13 minutes to developing a storyline purported to be the central plot. While I do not intend to be plebian in my viewpoint and while I understand that the director was attempting to convey some sort of 1960s message about the ephemeral qualities of reality, I feel compelled to point out to Mr. Antonioni that he could have spent far less time on actors playing with a nonexistent ball and having sex with barely pubescent girls without betraying the core of his artistic expression. Certainly, a more substantive storyline would have helped to increase the longevity of the film, and assisted in entertaining an audience far less intrigued with the inner workings of a mind, which is (quite frankly) rather dull.
Having incurred the wrath of the faded flower children, I am further compelled to suggest that the film would have been vastly improved by the addition of a little music to the (essentially) silent proceedings. The fact that there is a purchasable soundtrack for Blowup is utterly incomprehensible to me - I recall approximately 30 seconds of beating brums 2/3 of the way through the film, but nothing more! The sound was certainly not enough to rouse an already snoring audience.
Conclusion: If given the choice to rent Blowup or watch your own fingernails grow, choose the latter. Don't waste your time.
Posted by laura at January 28, 2003 07:26 PMI agree so whole-heartedly with this review, it's almost pandering. Please, people! Spare yourselves the agony....I would hate to think of you spending time with this movie when you could be...I dunno....watching an apple brown.
Posted by: Janice on January 28, 2003 08:11 PMI have to say that while not a movie I would really want to see again, Blowup represents an excellent window into 1960's art culture. Much of the action is not related to the 'central plot' because the point of the movie is to rebel against standard film-making practices; at least from the standpoint of 1966. Essentially, its difficult to make the criticism that the movie should have included more story, because that would have violated its purpose. Its analagous to saying that the movie "Patton" should have focused more on a British general. I think trying to add more plot to an essentially plotless film would be disasterous. Sure its an interesting concept, but he's making his point by taking that concept and destroying it.
Posted by: Mark on April 5, 2003 05:31 PMi loved it. the plot is incidental, the 60's ness is secondary - this is a character study at heart. we get to watch a man who has fallen into some kind of apathy get excited about something, the something being his art - even better. some beautiful and beautifully subtle shots - the woman disappearing, the fact that you can hear the tennis shots at the end (in the mind of the photographer!), the looks on the faces of the groupies - the kind of excitement that comes from being a little scared.
i would recommend it.
Phew! I was actually looking at this movie to put on my netflix list and am greatly relieved that I was instructed by Eleanor to read your review first. I think, instead, I will go watch my panty-hose dry.
thanks!
love,
auntlori