Review of Blow-Up (1966) by Robert H — 30 Jun 2009

Antonioni proves the critics who think 'art film' is slang for 'pretense and pornography' right. His 'analysis' of the relationship between photographer-spectator, and the lines between seeing and believing, holds interest only accidentally, when these insights fall between the cracks of his choreographed erotica; even when he finally seems to be grappling with it, he loses his edge--the finale is so far down the rabbit hole that it barely retains being a critique.

But Antonioni is, really, like Hemmings, merely a fashion photographer; more concerned with lining women up for choreographed sex play with his misogynist lead. The film is so anti-feminist that, 'Swinging London' or not, one must question its motivation.

Little is said here that is not better said in Powell's "Peeping Tom" or Hitchcock's "Rear Window." Doesn't amount to much.