Taylor Powers an Absorbing ‘Warhol’

On the afternoon of June 3, 1968, feminist Valerie Solanas shot the king of Pop art, Andy Warhol, seriously wounding him and, in effect, marking an end to an era in his life and art. Many contend that Warhol, who died in 1987 after minor surgery, never fully recovered physically or artistically from Solanas’ attack.

Whereas many know a great deal about Warhol, few are familiar with Solanas, who was one of countless Warhol Factory hangers-on and had written an anti-male diatribe she called her S.C.U.M. (Society for Cutting Up Men) Manifesto.

Mary Harron’s ambitious and absorbing “I Shot Andy Warhol,” with Lili Taylor in a portrayal of Solanas as luminous as it is gritty and fearless, brings alive Solanas in all her scabrous humor and pain and rage as she descends into madness. It also does the same for the world of Warhol and his fabled silver-painted Factory, where he made his minimalist films and the silk-screen portraits that celebrated the power of commercial art and photography. The soft-spoken, often maddeningly monosyllabic Warhol had become a magnet for socialites, beautiful people, dropouts and misfits along with the genuinely creative.

It’s hard to go along with the film’s end-credit claim that the S.C.U.M. Manifesto is a landmark feminist work, so crazed is it, but Harron and co-writer Daniel Minahan make Solanas’ story eminently revealing and worth telling. They lay it out with care in the manner of classic film scripts, tracing Solanas’ troubled, poverty-stricken life--she claimed she was sexually abused by her father--through her college years and subsequent losing struggle to make it as a revolutionary feminist writer in New York.

In her increasing desperation to make herself and her views heard, she sought out Warhol in the hope that he would back a play she had written. The polite, detached manner with which Warhol (Jared Harris, dead right) treated Solanas--and most others--may inadvertently have given her false encouragement.

Anyone around Solanas’ age--she would have turned 60 this month had she not died destitute in San Francisco in 1989--who was acquainted with Warhol and a number of his colleagues can attest that by and large Harron has got it right on two fronts. “I Shot Andy Warhol” re-creates successfully the decadent magnetic atmosphere surrounding Warhol and calls attention to the pre-lib status of women who came of age in the ultra-conservative ‘50s. Tellingly, Harron plays suggestions of the anything-goes sex-and-drugs atmosphere of the Factory against the gutsy, upfront Solanas standing up to a proudly homophobic TV talk-show host.

“I Shot Andy Warhol” is almost as much about Candy Darling as it is about Solanas. The woman who shot Warhol was brought into the Factory by Darling, who was born Jimmy Slattery and died early from cancer--a result, the movie asserts, of too many injections of illegal hormones. Stephen Dorff captures perfectly the likable Darling’s breathy, movie-goddess looks and personality, her dreaminess and courage. Harron’s casting of other Warhol personages is uneven: For example, Tahnee Welch, in admittedly a peripheral role, conveys nothing of the fiery personality and outrageous wit of Warhol superstar Viva. Also key is a vivid Martha Plimpton as Solanas’ more resilient lesbian hooker pal, possibly a composite or fictional role.

Harron’s straightforward approach proves vital and illuminating even though it seems a bit impersonal; “I Shot Andy Warhol” might have benefited from a more satirical edge. In re-creating an era in the not-too-distant past, Harron--who brings to the film her seasoned documentarian’s respect for research--has had first-rate assistance on both sides of the camera.

Considering Warhol’s role in launching the legendary Velvet Underground, whose co-founder John Cale contributed some potent original music for the film, it’s too bad that the group’s other co-founder, Lou Reed, wouldn’t permit the use of their songs in the film. However, such key alternative rock groups as R.E.M., Luna and Wilco do provide covers of other songs of the era. In the end, “I Shot Andy Warhol” must be reckoned as a solid, impressive first feature on Harron’s part.

* Unrated. Times guidelines: The film has pervasive strong language, some drug-taking, some sex and nudity and some violence, and it is definitely not for children.

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‘I Shot Andy Warhol’

Lili Taylor: Valerie Solanas

Jared Harris: Andy Warhol

Stephen Dorff: Candy Darling

Martha Plimpton: Stevie

An Orion Pictures release of a Playhouse International Pictures presentation in association with the Samuel Goldwyn Company and BBC Arena. Director Mary Harron. Producers Tom Kalin and Christine Vachon. Executive producers Lindsay Law and Anthony Wall. Screenplay by Harron and Daniel Minahan, with additional scenes and dialogue from “The Letters and Diaries of Candy Darling,” edited by Jeremiah Newton, and from Newton’s “Tales That Deliver.” Cinematographer Ellen Kuras. Editor Keith Reamer. Costumes David Robinson. Original Music John Cale. Music supervisor Randall Poster. Production designer Therese Deprez. Ina Mayhew. Set decorator Diane Lederman. Running time: 1 hour, 43 minutes.

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