Then I found the spell of the movie settling around me. Watching "Blow-Up" once again, I took a few minutes to acclimate myself to the loopy psychedelic colors and the tendency of the hero to use words like "fab" ("Austin Powers" brilliantly lampoons the era). The festival began with the emergence of the Beat Generation and advanced through Cassavetes to "Blow-Up"-after which the virus of Cool leaped from its nurturing subculture into millions of willing new hosts, and has colored our society ever since, right down to and manifestly including "South Park." This was at the 1998 Virginia Festival of American Film in Charlottesville, which had "Cool" as its theme.
Freed from the hype and fashion, it emerges as a great film, if not the one we thought we were seeing at the time. Over three days recently, I revisited "Blow-Up" in a shot-by-shot analysis.
Americans flew to "swinging London" in the 1960s today's Londoners pile onto the charter jets to Orlando. The twentysomethings who bought tickets for "Blow-Up" are now focused on ironic, self-referential slasher movies. Young audiences aren't interested any more in a movie about a "trendy" London photographer who may or may not have witnessed a murder, who lives a life of cynicism and ennui, and who ends up in a park at dawn, watching college kids play tennis with an imaginary ball.
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