Michelangelo Antonioni's Blow-Up (1966) is a psychological mystery that invites audiences on a journey to uncover hidden meanings within the artifice and emptiness of Swinging London. It captures the vibrant spirit of the 1960s, with its infectious atmosphere that draws people towards a deepening sense of liberation and rebellion, all to the soundtrack of Herbie Hancock’s jazzy score.
Antonioni's debut English-language film follows a day in the life of commercial fashion photographer Thomas (David Hemmings). Despite his success in the world of mod fashion photography, he grows increasingly frustrated with the conventional shoots, yearning to express his creativity in a more unconventional manner. This leads Thomas to a park, where he starts capturing images of an unsuspecting couple. The woman (Vanessa Redgrave) pursues him, insisting he hand over the film.
One of the most striking scenes unfolds as our hero develops the park photographs alone in his darkroom. It dawns on him that he could have captured so much more than just a mere flirtation. As Thomas "blows up" his work, Antonioni expertly weaves between the photographer and his images, drawing us in deeper until we begin to see the photos as tangled patterns of shadow and light - an intricate mosaic of dots and blots, pointillistic in style - that might reveal a corpse on the ground or a figure lurking in the woods. Has he inadvertently documented a murder?
The plot revolves around his ultimately inconclusive efforts to uncover the truth about what happened in the park. Here Antonioni deliberately engages with the fundamental issue of realism, exploring the relationship between signs and their meanings, as the audience comes to question whether a murder even took place. Antonioni chose the protagonist to be a photographer for this reason: he is a man who can observe but cannot truly see.
Thomas's initial motivations and approach are somewhat superficial, focusing primarily on aesthetic appeal. With the exception of brief sexual experiences or ostentatious purchases, such as an antique aeroplane propeller, he photographs life without ever experiencing it. Ironically, his personification of the traditional masculine gaze also adds to his own weaknesses. But his viewpoint progressively widens as he digs more into the murder, starting a process of self-discovery.
The murder conspiracy is enriched by a captivating element as Antonioni juxtaposes Thomas with the park shooter. Both men hide in the bushes at the scene of the crime, providing a crucial clue to the film's deeper themes. While photography is usually viewed as a way to eliminate intermediaries, the film suggests that human involvement is always a part of representation.
At its core, the film deals with the transition from modernism to postmodernism. Modernism is generally defined by its interpretative style, it changed film from being the reproduction of reality to an art form, taking on the philosophy that anything can be art. On the other hand, postmodernism questions the very purpose of art, asking if art is in everything? And must an object undergo human interpretation to be considered art? In an interview at the time, Antonioni stated, “It is not about man’s relationship with man, it is about man’s relationship with reality.”
The focus here isn't on what occurred, as you would find in a typical murder mystery, but rather on the connection between a world of signs and a constructed realm of meaning. The photograph serves as a sign that requires interpretation. Is it merely a reflection of Thomas's imagination? Must he imbue his art with meaning and significance to feel purpose, even if it diverges from reality?
The film shows that questions about knowledge are really about representation. The photograph isn’t just a clear image; it acts as a way to discover deeper truths. This approach embodies a kind of ultimate realism - a narrative that openly acknowledges its fictional nature. Similar to David Lynch’s Mulholland Drive (2001), it suggests that we cannot fully trust our perceptions.
In several moments, Thomas's friends question whether abstract art holds any genuine value or if it merely reflects our own thoughts and imagination. Bill, his neighbour and an artist, shares his perspective while showcasing a cubist painting: “They don’t mean anything when I do them - just a mess. Afterwards I find something to hang onto - like that - like - like… that leg… And then it sorts itself out. It adds up. It’s like finding a clue in a detective story.” Discovering meaning in Bill’s painting is entirely subjective. That meaning emerges by chance, just as much during the viewing experience as during the act of painting.
Realism’s quest to establish a connection by adhering to objective truth is ultimately futile. Thus, anti-figurative art highlights the dilemmas that realism cannot resolve. Blow-Up powerfully demonstrates how the rationale of realism inevitably leads to failure.
In another iconic scene, Thomas walks into a concert where the audience stands still like mannequins or sway slowly as if zombies. When the guitar is smashed and its neck is tossed into the crowd, they spring to life, eager to grab it in a frenzy, with Thomas ultimately emerging as the victor. He exits the club clutching the guitar neck but pauses outside and drops it to the ground. What seemed significant inside the club now appears meaningless; it's just a broken piece of wood. Again, this moment encapsulates the essence of postmodernism - art is merely an object, devoid of inherent meaning unless significance is ascribed to it.
As the film comes to a close, he watches a group of mimes playing an imaginary game of tennis. When they urge Thomas to fetch their nonexistent ball that has gone off the court, he joins in. As he tosses the imaginary tennis ball back to them, he acknowledges that his imagination holds truth and that the murder is merely a mental projection. The camera pulls back to emphasise his isolation, as no one else can see his creations as he intended.
Antonioni shifts our perspective on what we've been observing; as the camera retreats, we are literally drawn out of the narrative frame and placed at the level of the filmmaker. This film will be interpreted differently by each and every viewer.
The narrative of Blow-Up might feel anticlimactic, presenting a story rich with potential, yet ultimately withholding resolution from the audience. However, as frustrating and complex as it may be, it prompts us to reflect on not just film but all forms of art: can we appreciate something even if we don't fully understand it?