I Shot Andy Warhol (1996)

Stephen Dorff and Lili Taylor and Jared Harris are all great in this film, particularly Dorff. But the film's biggest weakness is that everyone in the movie is so weird you don't really care what happens to them. Only Dorff manages to invest his character with enough humanity and vulnerability that you are actually interested to learn of his ultimate fate. I was kind of surprised to learn that Solanis is held up as some kind of proto-feminist lesbian guru when it is obvious she's only twisted and insane.

Imagine if the situation were reversed and Solanis was a man calling for the cutting up of all women and denouncing women as an inferior race. Such a viewpoint would be considered monstrous! Solanis is a crank and a fool, so it's impossible to take her character's world view any more seriously than the guy down by the subway station who mumbles to people who aren't there.

The entire Factory scene is rightly exposed as the pretentious, ridiculous collection of sub-mediocre talent it was. So the viewer isn't surprised when Solanis shoots Warhol, as he couldn't say no to anyone around him and surrounded himself with so many weirdos it was inevitable.



Would this film have been lauded had it been a biopic of Mark David Chapman? I don't see much difference between Solanis and Chapman frankly...both complete, colossal failures in life who managed to gain notierity through murder or attempted murder.

In summary, this was a well-executed take on a rather idiotic topic. I'd rather see the director use her talents to make a movie about people who deserve the effort. Not worthless no-talents like Warhol and Solanis.

Fmovies: Lili Taylor gives a savagely kinetic performance in this representation of a disturbed individual who may just also have been a genius despite, or because of, her treatment at the hands of various men throughout her life.

Judging biopics in terms of historical accuracy is for the most part a futile exercise. There is no 'truth', only interpretation, but if you want to get closer to the facts you really should be in the library, not the movie theatre. The story of Valerie Solanas is especially vexing in this case, because were this a work of complete fiction, the script would never have been made. The 'so what?' factor is superseded by the fact that this actually happened, and the legacy of Solanas still divides contemporary feminists.

As cinema, the film succeeds through the charisma exuded in Taylor's performance. Her descent into madness is sudden, vicious and uncompromising. The depiction of the shooting, the moment the film has been leading up to, shows a human being divorced absolutely from her conscience. The groovy scene around Warhol's the Factory is both decadent and, viewed from the 21st century, slightly twee. The pastiche of Sixties nostalgia is less foregrounded than Solanas's brutal victimhood. The film begins with a reading of her psychiatric evaluation, where a litany of unpunished crimes inflicted upon this woman by various men is laid out. The female director sets her stall out straight away - what you are hearing now leads through a direct line of cause and effect to the monstrous act you will see committed by Solanas later.

If the film has a major flaw, it is the title. Audiences could be mistaken for thinking it is about a documentarian of Warhol's life and work. Solanas and her SCUM manifesto, for better or worse, have made their mark, and perhaps 'Solanas' would have been a more fitting (if less marketable) title. Did it take the shooting for that to be the case? A polemical moment in recent history relayed straightforwardly, this is competent, entertaining, edifying cinema.

Lili Taylor plays Valerie Solanas, an educated loose cannon, guerrilla female activist and self-described 'bull dyke', who was taken into custody in June 1968 after shooting and wounding Andy Warhol at his New York City office/hangout The Factory. Good-looking movie investigates a hazy chapter in history, yet leaves some unanswered questions in its wake (I wasn't aware that apparently an assistant was also shot, though the film makes no attempt to explain what happened to him). However, this small-budgeted film captures a decadently apathetic, coolly indifferent time and place quite vividly, as good as any post-'60s movie has yet managed. Taylor is appropriately forceful and ungainly in her role, which is more complex than one might think, and yet hers is the least interesting or intriguing character on display. Stephen Dorff does a pretty terrific job as transvestite Candy Darling, Tahnee Welch is unrecognizable as Warhol's most famous starlet Viva, and Jared Harris is flawless as Warhol (he nails it). Terrific art direction and composition, but the film lags a bit in the narrative department, with Solanas meeting an anti-bourgeois activist which doesn't come to much and has a facetious, puzzling relationship with publisher Maurice Girodias which seems half-baked. **1/2 from ****

I Shot Andy Warhol fmovies. If you shoot someone whom others consider "important" I suppose some filmmaker will want to make a movie about you. I can think of no other reason why anyone would want to make a film about Valerie Solanas (Lili Taylor), the spunky, chain-smoking, foul-mouthed, self-centered, lesbian feminist who, in the summer of 1968, shot Andy Warhol (Jared Harris). Warhol was a New York City painter/artist ... or something ... and guru of all things avant-garde, who attracted the chic and the trendy to his New York City "Factory", the center of counterculture pop art.

In the film Solanas, who harbors an enormous grudge against men, comes across initially as assertive and resourceful. She makes a living hustling the streets: "Pardon me sir, you got 15 cents? Pardon me sir ..." On the rooftop of a high-rise she types her S.C.U.M. "manifesto", outlining her complaints against the male species.

But whereas Solanas is passionate about her cause, Warhol is a study in emotional detachment and indifference. He, and those in his orbit, sees Solanas more as a hanger-on. At one point, Solanas shows Warhol her typed manifesto. Warhol flips through it and responds in a deadpan manner: "Did you type this yourself? I'm so impressed. You should come type for us." Marvelous.

The film's best element is the acting. Lili Taylor is terrific. She really gets into the Solanas persona. Jared Harris also gives a splendid performance. The film's tone teeters between seriousness and tongue-in-cheek humor. Costumes, prod design, music, and lighting are all credible.

For modern day feminists, "I Shot Andy Warhol" probably is required viewing. For others, the film offers a cinematic study into the mindset of a quirky, sincere, but ultimately self-deceptive and delusional young woman who got her fifteen minutes of fame by carrying her political cause a little too far.

If Peeping Tom was directed by a woman, then it would probably resemble Mary Harron's wonderful I Shot Andy Warhol. Like Peeping Tom, I Shot Andy Warhol is about how misunderstandings between the sexes can lead to violence. What was so great about I Shot Andy Warhol is how it takes a woman who most people would consider a psychopath and it humanizes her. We see what drives Valerie Solanas to commit her "insane" act of shooting Andy Warhol, and we come to understand why she did what she ended up doing. In other words, I Shot Andy Warhol successfully gets into the head of "insanity." After watching this film, I thought of a poem from Emily Dickinson: "Much madness is divinest sense. . . to a discerning eye. Much sense, the starkest madness. Ascent, and you are sane. Demure, you're straightaway dangerous, and put into chains." Now, let's see what Mary Harron does with another story about a "psychopath," American Psycho. . .

Lili Taylor, as I think I've said here before, is one of my favorite actresses, but I have to admit I was hesitant about seeing this film, especially when a friend told me he found it overrated. I have a hard time with people who type people in general terms, and this movie seemed, at first, to say "All men are scum." And the opening 15-30 minutes seem to indicate this is just going to be a rant. However, you do gradually get to empathize with all the people involved, and you do get an idea of how things were at that time. Taylor and Jared Harris were fine as Valerie Solanas and Andy Warhol, respectively, but the real surprise for me was Stephen Dorff as Candy Darling. I've never thought much of Dorff, but he really shone through here, refusing to stereotype Candy or inject too much pathos.