|Waaah, I was controlled by a fey man in a grey wig waah.|
|Yes, that's Stephen Dorff. Now move along.|
|"Oh, wow, that's so amazing. I'l just leech off you like a fungus until I'm through and need another wig."|
The other position that Harron takes with Solanas, one that had me respect the film very much, was not giving an easy point of view with her protagonist's worldview. What she says about female repression by men, and how they've fucked up everything that's come about in the world, is not wrong, and that women have been put into a position for what seems like forever of expected roles, those that she thinks need to be broken. Harron is more than sympathetic to tenets of her feminist ideology. But she's also in way over her head, one step away (if not just) one of those bums on the street rambling on or, of course, panhandling, and Harron doesn't sugarcoat how messed up she really was. There comes a point right before the film enters its third act that Solanas could have things going more her way. The self-destructive edge, as happens to a lot of so-called or actual revolutionaries, gets in the way.
As a character study it really rocks, for lack of a better description, and as a feat of stylistic integrity its very solid as Harron naturally-cleverly mixes around realism with a fantastic sense of the Factory, of its decadence and overblown self-importance (that is she doesn't make it look it, her point of view reveals how shallow and stupid it could be as an overrated hang-out for The Pop Artist), and then with black and white images of Solanas giving her manifesto words to the camera. In a sense I Shot Andy Warhol is the much darker and less satirical version of The King of Comedy, where a nobody tries to reach out to a somebody, and it becomes a self-fulfilling prophecy.