MAGNET contributing writer Jud Cost is sharing some of the wealth of classic films he’s been lucky enough to see over the past 40 years. Trolling the backwaters of cinema, he has worked up a list of more than 500 titles—from the silent era through the ’90s—that you may have missed. A new selection, all currently available on DVD, appears every week.
Blow-Up (1966, 110 minutes)
“Swinging London” was an amorphous term that embraced everything young that flourished in the re-emergence of the British Empire in the mid-’60s. What better example than the worldwide domination of the Beatles. But couture clothing by fashion mavens such as Mary Quant, who created the mini-skirt, could be found in trendy London boutiques in Carnaby St. and the Kings Road, where nearby hair stylists reproduced the happening, geometric look of Vidal Sassoon. Music that drove this growing army of British youth ranged from peach-fuzzed combos like the Who, Small Faces, Kinks and Rolling Stones to eventually include the psychedelic sounds of Cream, Jimi Hendrix and Pink Floyd.
The film that best depicts elements of this phenomenon is Michelangelo Antonioni’s Blow-Up. Its central character, Thomas (David Hemmings), is a fashion photographer who makes enough money shooting magazine layouts with hot runway models like Veruschka to afford a royal blue Rolls Royce Silver Cloud III convertible. Unfortunately, wealth hasn’t kept him from frightening the women he photographs by treating them like department-store mannequins.
Thomas wanders down to London’s Ricky Tick club just in time to hear the Yardbirds play “Stroll On.” Jeff Beck rams his hollow-body into an amp to produce feedback, then stomps the guitar to death and throws its fretboard into an unruly mob. Without changing gears, the band’s other guitarist, Jimmy Page, carries on nicely to finish the cortex-frying workout.
And yet, all this scenester stuff is mere backdrop for something odd that occurs while Thomas snaps random photos in Charlton’s Maryon park on a blustery spring day. He begins to shoot a young redheaded woman and an older man walking together up a steep hill, holding hands. Taking multiple shots, Thomas gets closer to the pair as they kiss when, over the man’s shoulder, the girl (Vanessa Redgrave) spots what’s been happening behind her back. Breaking away from her companion, she jogs toward Thomas shouting, “You can’t photograph people like that! Give me those pictures!” He stands his ground. “Who says I can’t? I’m only doing my job. I’m a photographer.” Near tears, she pleads, “This is a public place. Everyone has a right to be left in peace!” He refuses to hand over the film and, noticing her companion has vanished, she runs back up the hill.
That night, Thomas reviews the roll from the park with an eye toward using the pictures in a coffee-table book he’s about to publish. He discovers, instead, something odd in the brush near the picket fence surrounding the park. Not trusting his senses, he blows up the telltale shot for a better look, then quickly takes another photo of the blow-up and magnifies it until he’s convinced. Somehow, he’s caught a murderer in the act: a man in the bushes holding a gun and a body lying in the grass.
