The Anti-Celebrity Cinema of Mary Harron: ‘I Shot Andy Warhol,’ ‘The Notorious Bettie Page,’ and ‘The Anna Nicole Story’

I’ve always thought Mary Harron’s work was the perfect example of why we need female directors. I think the films she produces provide a perspective we would never see in a world unilaterally controlled by male filmmakers. Harron appears to specialize in off-beat character studies of the types of people a male director may not gravitate towards, nor treat with appropriate gravitas. She treats us to humanizing takes on sex workers and sex symbols, angry lesbians and radical feminism and makes them hard to turn away from.

This post by staff writer Elizabeth Kiy appears as part of our theme week on Women Directors.


I’ve always thought Mary Harron’s work was the perfect example of why we need female directors.

I think the films she produces provide a perspective we would never see in a world unilaterally controlled by male filmmakers. Harron appears to specialize in off-beat character studies of the types of people a male director may not gravitate towards, nor treat with appropriate gravitas. She treats us to humanizing takes on sex workers and sex symbols, angry lesbians and radical feminism and makes them hard to turn away from.

Her work is so different from what we are used to that, it’s usually depressing to read anything about the making of her films, which always seem to struggle for financing and spend years in development hell.

Harron’s film are like long monologues, focusing on the experiences of a single, larger than life character. In my head, I’ve compared them to less glossy magazine profiles.

Though she is best know for her controversial take on American Psycho (which starred Gloria Steinem’s stepson, Christian Bale), I find her biopics, a triptych focusing on Bettie Page, Valerie Solanas, Anna Nicole Smith, her most interesting works.

These are difficult women to portray in an even handed fashion. Their personas and actions have transcended the truth of who they are and in the cases of Bettie and Anna Nicole, tend to be seen rather than heard. They are also women who have appeared difficult to defend and explain from within a feminist framework.

Harron, who wrote for Punk Magazine in 1970s New York, mixes feminine aesthetics and masculine grit to find beauty in the often ugly experiences of her subjects. She takes daring subjects and portrays them in a formalistically unique style, using different film stocks, gorgeous cinematography and fast kinetic edits to portray different time periods. The Notorious Bettie Page, uses a Wizard of Oz style switch from black and white to lush colour, to portray the character’s feelings of freedom. She lets her actors breathe and inhabit the characters and when her films succeed, they do on the lead character’s stand out performances.

Though it is often unclear what she is trying to say with them. As a whole, her oeuvre does not present a cohesive sense of auterusim or even stick to a specific genre, medium or perspective. Harron’s main interest appear to be intriguing stories.

If her films do have one message, it’s that people are more complicated than we assume. They don’t make a snap judgement about the characters. Mary Harron doesn’t tell us Valerie Solanas was “crazy” or Bettie Page was exploited or Anna Nicole Smith was a gold digger. She says, there are good and bad parts of everyone. What seems to matter is being interesting.

I Shot Andy Warhol

I Shot Andy Warhol (1996)

I Shot Andy Warhol is a little art scene movie about Valerie Solanas (Lili Taylor), a lesbian writer famous more for the delusions that lead her to (non-fatally) shoot Andy Warhol in 1968 than for her feminist treatise, the S.C.U.M. manifesto (Society for Cutting Up Men).

The film is Valerie’s show, portraying her as a desperate person living on the fringes of society and struggling to make a living, who comes face to face with Warhol’s beautiful world and its superstars and hopes to be invited in. She comes to believe Warhol is trying to control and exploit her when she cannot get him to produce a play of hers.

The film doesn’t seem to take a stance on Solanas, but allows the audience to try to understand her based on what they have been shown. We are helped along by Taylor’s performance, intense to the point of being frightening, which makes her character come alive.

Notorious Bettie Page

The Notorious Bettie Page (2005)

In Harron’s portrayal of the life of 50s pin-up Queen, Bettie Page (Gretchen Mol), we meet a woman who is a living contradiction. She is portrayed as an innocent who doesn’t understand the idea of pornography yet enjoys posing naked. Even the most aggressive bondage scenes where she is tied up and gagged seem to be a great game for her.

Though the film is about pornography, Harron skillfully avoids giving us overtly sexualized or salivating gazes of her star. The nude scenes are either awkward as Bettie fumbles unsure in the beginning or triumphant in portraying Bettie’s proud nudism and her sun-kissed body, glowing. I think Gretchen Mol’s portrayal of Bettie really helps here; she is wide-eyed and perpetually stunned. The way she inhabits the character makes her sexuality seem natural. She enjoys her body and the film’s switch to technicolor emphasizes that happiness.

It's unclear what we are supposed to think of Bettie's bondage work

However, it’s a film with a lot to unpack. Because Harron opens it with scenes of Bettie’s rape and abuse, it’s easy to believe she’s suggesting Bettie’s sexual openness is because of her rape. It’s gets slightly heavy-handed in one point where she is invited to show a private moment in her acting class and she begins to take off her clothes.

The relatively short span of Bettie’s life Harron focuses on cuts out her later mental illness and the extent of her evangelicalism. It’s discomforting to see younger Bettie enjoy her work when contrasted to older Bettie whose conversion suggests she begins to view what she participated in as exploitative.

Harron successfully walks a fine line and avoids sexualizing Anna Nicole

The Anna Nicole Story (2013)

The Anna Nicole Story is a Lifetime movie, it’s campy and trashy, but it has aspirations. Harron gives Anna Nicole the Marilyn Monroe treatment, telling us that she is a misunderstood bombshell hiding a deep sadness. Though, the device of the ghostly figure of an older glamorous Anna Nicole guiding her through her life is a bit much.

There’s a fine line between campy trashy and exploitation trashy and Harron is fairly successful here. For the last years of her life, evidence that Anna Nicole Smith was mentally unwell and struggling with drugs was turned into a joke and her weight gain was excoriated by men who just wanted her to get hot again. While Anna Nicole was various exploited and exploitative herself, the film tries to rein in her image to something palatable to the viewers at home. Agnes Bruckner tries to make her seem human, but though we are left unsure of the motivations behind many of her stranger actions.

It seemed like every interview Bruckner did for the film was about the enlarged breasts she sported as Anna Nicole. She was asked “How were they made? or “How did they feel?” over and over.

In the finished picture, too much fun is had with Anna Nicole’s breasts, whose size the film enjoys exaggerating and displaying, though this may come with the territory. The scene where she bring cantaloupes to display the size of implants she want is played for laughs, as is the revel of her new large breasts getting her attention at the strip club.

Anna brings cantelopes to the surgeon to show the size she wants for her implants

As it’s a Lifetime movie, Harron is hampered by a PG rating, a low budget and shot production schedule, but she still gives us something interesting to explore.

She always has.


Elizabeth Kiy. is a Canadian writer and journalist living in Toronto, Ontario. Someday she will take over the world.

But Where Does The Road Go?: Journeys of Self Discovery in ‘Electrick Children’ and ‘Blue Car’

I suppose its no coincidence that many coming of age films feature runaways. The coming of age plot is, after all, the search for self realized through the search for something external. It doesn’t really matter what the search was originally for: an old home, a long lost father or a missed connection; in the end, it’s the journey, both literal and figurative, that matters.

Poster for Electrick Children
Poster for Electrick Children

 

When I was a kid, I used to run away from home.

I’d pile on all my favorite things, all my most special clothes, until I could barely walk in all the layers and stuff my plastic purses full of necessities for my new life, like Barbie dolls and plastic dinosaurs.

But I only ever got a far as the end of driveway. I just sat in the car and imagined what my family would be reduced to without my presence. Eventually I went in again. After all he point was only to make a scene, I only wanted to show that my emotions were serious.

I suppose its no coincidence that many coming of age films feature runaways. The coming of age plot is, after all, the search for self-realized through the search for something external. It doesn’t really matter what the search was originally for: an old home, a long lost father or a missed connection; in the end, it’s the journey, both literal and figurative, that matters.

In Electrick Children, the 2012 debut of writer-director Rebecca Thomas, 15-year-old Rachel (Julia Garner) leaves her fundamentalist Mormon community to search for the father of her baby, whom she believes is the true love God has chosen for her. Likewise, Blue Car, a 2002 film written and directed by Karen Moncrieff, introduces us to Meg Denning (Agnes Bruckner), a 16-year-old girl who longs for a father figure, a parent who will love her unconditionally and believe in her specialness. Both Meg and Rachel set out on the road, not sure exactly what they’re looking for and what they’ll find standing at its end.

Rachel’s enjoyment of  the cassette recalls a sexual experience
Rachel’s enjoyment of the cassette recalls a sexual experience

 

Electrick Children has a fiercely original set up: a sheltered religious teenager listens a song (a cover of “Hanging on the Telephone”) on a blue cassette tape. It’s the first rock song, even the first secular song she’s ever heard and as she listens, dancing alone in her nightgown, she experiences great pleasure, suggesting her first orgasm. When she later finds she has become pregnant, she is sure the singer on the tape is the father of the baby.

Despite all the sermons she has grown up hearing, about the evils of rock music and immaculate conception, no one in the community is willing to believe Rachel’s pregnancy is a miracle and religious leaders blame her brother “Mr. Will” (Liam Aiken) for impregnating her and try to force Rachel into a shotgun marriage.

Instead, she packs her things and escapes to the glittering lights of the nearest city, Las Vegas. A lost little lamb in the big city, Rachel limps along until she meets a group of skaters, musicians, and stoners. Naive Rachel and Mr. Will, who follows along behind her, would be easily exploitable prey, but because this is a movie, they are taken in by the group, who recognize them as fellow outsiders in need of their support.

The gang of Las Vegas teens welcome Rachel and Mr. Will
The gang of Las Vegas teens welcome Rachel and Mr. Will

 

Along the way, Clyde (Rory Culkin), a sensitive skateboarder notices Rachel and they begin to fall in love with each other. Clyde’s friends tease him for desiring Rachel, as a pregnant girl she is “damaged goods,” he doesn’t care.

Electrick Children is a gorgeous film, stuffed with vivid colors and textures, beautiful scenery and indie rock. However, one might view it as troubling that the origin of Rachel’s pregnancy is never revealed. Commenters on IMDb suggest the film hints that Rachel was drugged and raped by her stepfather, the leader of the religious community, though this is never addressed in the film. Though Rachel’s views of both the religious and secular worlds complicate as she begins to think for herself, one thing that never changes is her belief that God fathered her child. In the main text of the film, her relationship with Clyde, who offers to marry her and raise the baby, suggests a modern update of relationship between Mary and Joseph in The Bible.

 

As his student, Meg relies on Auster to provide guidance
As his student, Meg relies on Auster to provide guidance

 

As Blue Car begins, Meg Denning is the new girl at school. Her parents have just separated and she is sullen and depressed. Her mother seems to work all hours, leaving Meg to take care of her troubled younger sister, Lily. Lily is taking their father’s disappearance much harder than Meg, refusing to eat and making delusional statements about her appearance and identity. Meg resents having to look after her and begins to hate her mother for failing to notice both sisters’ unhappiness.

In school, Meg tries her best to fade into the background, but all this changes when her English teacher, Mr. Auster (David Strathairn) begins to take a shine to her. Auster tells her she has the potential to be brilliant poet, if only she will allow herself to express the true depth of the pain and anger she feels and put it into words. He gives her a light at the end of the tunnel, a national poetry competition in Florida that she is a shoo-in to win, as long as she can find a way to get there.

As imagined Meg begins to come into her voice, with Auster’s guidance. Though his influence is initially set up as a positive force, as the film draws on, it slowly becomes clear that Auster’s own goals are tainting Meg’s newly realized talent. Meg constantly clashes with her mother and drives away everyone else in her life who had supported her or attempted to get through her hard exterior. She comes to view her father as a villain for leaving her and her mother as wicked for working, refusing to see them as three-dimensional people with their own lives.

 

Meg is lost and confused when Auster’s attentions become sexual
Meg is lost and confused when Auster’s attentions become sexual

 

From here, the film’s trajectory is familiar. As viewers, we are not surprised when the older teacher takes advantage of his young protege, but Blue Car runs through this familiar plot in a way that is genuinely affecting to watch. The film refuses to allow either Meg or us as viewer to see her parents as cardboard cut-outs. Meg ultimately recognizes her mother is a person as well as a parent, an imperfect, broken person who had made missteps raising her but is trying her best. Even her father, who we only see briefly, comes across as well-meaning and kind, a marked contrast to the picture of him in Meg’s bitter poem.

In both films, the road ends with a discovery that the road never really ends. Self-discovery is a life long project, but at least Rachel and Meg know where to begin.

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Elizabeth Kiy is a Canadian writer and journalist living in Toronto, Ontario.