Where my first review of the year was one of the latest releases hot off the projector, my second takes us back into the history of film. I enjoy watching films from all eras, obviously my Dad knows that well as he bought me a couple of archetypal 1960s films as Christmas presents - cheers Dad! I know he reads this blog and I guess he's hoping I liked them, well read on...Blow Up is a film that fascinated me for its whole run time. I think this was in part because I knew nothing about what to expect, and partly because what goes on has a constant mystical unreal quality to it. I kept watching waiting for answers, but secretly hoping they would never come for fear that bringing everything down to earth would spoil its ethereal qualities.
It is the 1960s. The world is a collage of the greys and browns of London still emerging from WW2 contrasting against the pastel print dresses and shirts of those who inhabit it. We follow David Hemmings as Thomas, an apparently successful David Bailey-esque photographer who lives in a doss house with people that might be friends or lovers and spends his days driving London's street in a soft-top Roller shooting images of anything that takes his interest. On one of his usual jaunts he comes across a small park in which he sees a young woman (Vanessa Redgrave) and an older man kissing. He takes a series of photos of the scene and the surrounding space before the couple realise what's happening, the woman tries but fails to get him to give her the negatives. At this point the story goes off on a slight tangent when the woman starts to say and do slightly strange things. When Thomas blows his photos up and discovers something unexpected the story swerves off the road completely.
Thomas appears to lose touch with reality as he tries to work out what it is he has photographed, and what to do with the information. He goes in search of the people he photographed and has a number of very confusing encounters including stumbling into a gig where everyone is staring stoney-faced towards the front, seeing the woman he photographed vanish and a final sequence when he returns to the park only to discover a group of mime artists pretending to play tennis. Space, time and sound (or lack of it) are very important in this film. The sequence where Thomas develops his photos is 10 minutes long and virtually silent as the process of him creating batch after batch of photos is laboured over. With very few signposts for the audience the mystery that Thomas discovers is revealed at a creeping pace.
One might be minded to say that Blow Up is pretentious - and I guess that by any sensible definition of the word it is. But if you're going to make a pretentious film you have at the very least to make it interesting to watch. 'Blow Up' starts out as a knock-about mirror into the way Britain was nearly 50 years ago, then becomes a melodrama, thriller and eventually spirals down into existential 'what is reality?' territory. If you're confused (and I was) it doesn't take much effort to Google it and find out a variety of theories on what the film means, most of which are actually quite satisfying as they tie a lot of the confusing threads together.
Ultimately an extremely satisfying film that despite some pretense provides an interesting contemporary view of 1960s London. Just don't be shocked if you're confused at first!
Interesting review. I grew up in the sixties so, perhaps, just perhaps that's why I am so confused? I was dazed and confused when I first saw Blow Up, a viewing that was prompted by the cameo appearance of one James Page. I'm no longer confused whenever I see that gig in the swinging London nightclub. I just recall tender memories, or is that confusion?
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