Last night I watched Blow-Up again. It is my go-to movie whenever I start feeling nostalgic for the 60's. It's also one of my all-time favorite movies from my favorite decade for movies. I watched a lot of movies in the 60's, by the way. My maternal granddad, a Stetson-wearing, boot-scootin', skirt-chasin' rancher, was a big movie buff, though his tastes generally ran towards the dynamic pairings of two Johns: Ford and Wayne. All the better if Jane Russell or Maureen O'Hara were co-starring. I mention my grandfather because he is central to my development as a film lover; together (and sometimes with my grandmother), we watched countless old movies on television when I was growing up, as well as at the local drive-in picture show. My grandfather did not introduce me to Blow-Up, by the way. To be honest, I doubt if he ever heard of it. By the time 1970 rolled around, he, like many of his kinfolk, pretty much lived fulltime in a John Wayne western (minus the