As often with Antonioni, a film riddled with moments of brilliance and scuppered by infuriating pretensions; full of longueurs, it works neither as a portrait of Swinging London, nor as a bona fide thriller. But as it establishes its metaphysical mystery - Hemmings' vacuously trendy photographer discovers a purpose to his life when he enlarges a picture that may or may not prove that a murder has taken place - it does become strangely gripping, questioning the maxim that the camera never lies, and settling into a virtually abstract examination of subjectivity and perception. Deep stuff, then, though the surrounding dross - sex'n'fashion'n'rock'n'roll - makes it pretty hard to watch. Still, at least Carlo Di Palma's camerawork leavens the brew.
Cast and crew