Somewhat sweet in its misguided earnestness when not merely wincingly bad, the latest Hollywood appropriation of Andy Warhol's bawdy "Factory" universe comes across as a clumsy, drag version of an already overexposed scene. Hayden Christensen's bizarro-Bob Dylan, which the film's creators insist, against the strains of impending lawsuits, is not meant to represent any individual but rather a composite of a type (they just call him Folk Singer), is an absurd and fractured stereotype that will cause even devoted Dylan fans to sort of start to loathe him.
Through the distorting lens of decades of commodification, this film presents the Warhol scene in its prime as nothing more than a prolonged, obnoxious, and really dorky therapy session among privileged white wannabes. In a final twist of irony, viewers may find themselves sympathizing with Sedgwick’s monstrous, sexually abusive father, who commands the anemic and stammering Warhol to order a steak, rather than with Edie, who is pathetically bewildered when she runs out of unlimited old money to be squandered on her fabulous “bohemian” lifestyle.
Opens February 2
Through the distorting lens of decades of commodification, this film presents the Warhol scene in its prime as nothing more than a prolonged, obnoxious, and really dorky therapy session among privileged white wannabes. In a final twist of irony, viewers may find themselves sympathizing with Sedgwick’s monstrous, sexually abusive father, who commands the anemic and stammering Warhol to order a steak, rather than with Edie, who is pathetically bewildered when she runs out of unlimited old money to be squandered on her fabulous “bohemian” lifestyle.
Opens February 2
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