wonderful

Reagan 2022-04-21 09:02:30

When everyone pretends that tennis exists, does this tennis really exist? Likewise, if no one believed in the existence of a dead body, did the murder never happen? Real and Fictional Consciousness and Matter…

Sometimes we have the truth, but the truth is fleeting

As the environment changes, the guitar handle that everyone longed for has become a tattered piece in the eyes of people and no one cares about it... Philosophical thinking

What is true and what is false? Real or unreal, who is more real and who is more unreal? Should we believe what we see with the naked eye? The photographer took a picture of the woman on the grass, and then zoomed in and zoomed in on the photo. As a result, he saw the murder. It seemed that he was discovering a new reality from the real. It's all fictional.

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Extended Reading
  • Colt 2022-03-27 09:01:09

    Convinced again. After reading a murder that I thought was accidentally shot by a photographer, after thinking about it, I felt that it might just be an illusion of a crazy photographer, and the boundary between reality and illusion was blurred. This film offers a glimpse into the shadows of a series of arts such as photography, painting, rock and pantomime, as well as political protests, drug parties, and the creativity and confusion of young men and women in the art circle at the same time. The movie itself is pleasing to the eye.

  • Wendy 2021-12-22 08:01:14

    A movie that fascinated both Zizek and Dai Jinhua. The former is concerned with the physical tennis match at the end, and this blank is metaphorically directed to the corpse, or "spot"; the latter is concerned with the reflexive media in the process of photo processing and enlargement.

Blow-Up quotes

  • Verushka: [long-legged model awaits] Here I am.

    Thomas: Ready?

    Verushka: [foreign accent] I've been ready for nearly an hour.

    Thomas: Good.

    Verushka: I'm catching a plane for Paris at eleven, so I can't...

    Thomas: Can't what?

    Verushka: It doesn't matter.

    Thomas: [regards her over ostrich feathers] Who the hell were you with last night?

    [she smirks and moves on]

  • Patricia: I wonder why they shot him.

    Thomas: I didn't ask.