I think it has a great stylization and I loved the shots made in the car. The theme of the transference of alienation to an obsession with a photograph it's really good, and I was a lot creeped out by the "non-shape" of the amplified image. But this is not at all the Antonioni I fell in love with.
I think I'm condemned to this feeling of disappointment whenever I finish an Antonioni film. Yet again, in "Blow-up", we get some stunningly beautiful scenes (like the photoshoots in the studio and the park, and the imaginary game on the tennis court) but an overall impression that the film is being dragged towards its end without any sort of resolution or closure whatsoever. It's like there's a second part missing.
Among the greatest films ever made. Antonioni's masterpiece is a haunting meditation on the differences b/w art & reality. As a photographer, Thomas is in the business of capturing what is presumably the objective world but we can see from the outset that he is also subjectively playing with his images, making them more erotic. Where does one end & the other begin? Is cinema even capable of revealing objective truth?