the paparazzo who shagged me

Blow-Up is a critically-acclaimed arthouse film from 1966. It is about a fashion photographer in London who lives a life of dissipation. If you've ever watched the Austin Powers movies, this (in addition to 60's spy movies) was what Mike Myers was making fun of.

I figure, you either are interested in 60's art culture, or else this movie will put you to sleep before it gets around to forwarding the plot.

Personally, I found it worth watching, although mostly meaningless. While Antonioni's portrayal of his artistic contemporaries is mildly amusing at times, the cinematography is pretentious, and the script is affectedly blasé. Reminded me of something between Alphaville and a Quentin Tarantino look-at-me-I'm-cool flick.

Really, though, I watched this movie in the hope of finding out a thing or two about commerical photography. Instead, Blow-Up is only slightly more documentary than Zoolander. I realize now that all our stereotypes perpetuated in sitcoms and slapstick movies about fashion photographers started with Blow-Up. For instance, the protagonist does use a tripod during one shoot, but all his best work seems to be done handheld. Surely, this is a concession to keeping the action moving in the movie, since I find it hard to believe that a photographer successful enough to drive a Rolls would prefer a tripod in his fashion work.

One thing I found interesting: is it true that as late as 1966, fashion photographers used black and white film? The protagonist's proofs are clearly in b&w. But the movie, as was the case with most movies by 1966, was in color. I mean, what is film, but a long roll of 35mm film? I guess a color movie still couldn't compare to a b&w still back then.

The defunct Los Angeles Herald Examiner called this the best movie of the year in 1966. Compared to What's Up, Tiger Lily? or 'Manos' the Hands of Fate maybe. But better than The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly?