Conventional wisdom is that the status of women progressively improved throughout the 20th Century.
I have a competing theory. My observation is that the treatment of women got worse from approximately 1965 to 1970.
Just a guess: the sexual liberation movement and the increased availability of birth control temporarily posed a challenge for young women. Men were able to exploit and objectify women in a virtually consequence-free environment.
The most outrageously sexist era of cinema history was 1965-1970. It was the heyday of sexist secret agent flicks. “The Graduate” and “M.A.S.H.” were culturally important mega-hits and they are the most sexist movies I have ever seen. They make “Animal House” look like it was directed by Germaine Greer.
“Blow Up” demonstrates that this era of degradation wasn’t just an American phenomenon. Michael Antonioni’s first English-language film is a devastating attack on Swinging London for its shallowness and sexism.
If your culture is so chauvinistic that it is offensive to Italian guys, that is a serious red flag.
The chauvinist creep in question is Thomas (David Hemmings): a popular London photographer.
Remember that scene in Austin Powers when he has a camera and starts barking ridiculous orders at the model? That’s Thomas. Except Thomas keeps spouting stupid orders even when he’s not at work. “Stop dancing,” he tells a houseguest. “Now dance again…against the beat.”
I was aware that the slang term for woman in Swinging London was “bird.” But I didn’t understand until “Blow Up” that the word was used to patronize and dehumanize people.
Thomas’s disgraceful life is shattered one afternoon when he is developing the latest roll of film that he shot in the park.
Hey, there is a gun visible behind that fence…there’s a dead body… Thomas obsessively blows up sections of his photos, creating a crime lab in his living room. Suddenly, we are watching a thriller. Suddenly, Thomas’s ennui is replaced with excitement.
But he has no one to share it with. Thomas runs to tell the girl he likes. But it’s Swinging London, so she’s in the middle of having emotionless sex with another man. Thomas runs to tell his best friend, but he’s too doped up to even pay attention.
Thomas has been a selfish, shallow snake and now he’s all alone with his secret.
[Huge Spoiler Alert] Antonioni’s ending is mind-blowingly original. Thomas is walking through the park, looking for clues. A gang of mimes shows up. Two of them start playing mime tennis. Thomas stands there and watches the fake match.
There is a close-up of Thomas. He begins to hear the sounds of rackets and the ball, even though they don’t actually exist. Then it dawns on Thomas: what if there was no murder? Maybe it is all in his head – merely a desperate attempt to bring meaning to a life that has none.
Thomas isn’t just a jerk; he’s a victim. A society that dehumanizes women degrades and diminishes everyone.