Movie Reviews from the Dark

“Warhol’s Muses: The Artists, Misfits, and Superstars Destroyed by the Factory Fame Machine” by Laurence Leamer

These days the name Andy Warhol invokes images of the zany 1960’s and a cultural icon of the 1970’s. To hear the name Warhol more often evokes a snapshot of an era, rather than the legacy of the person. Images flash through our mind of Marilyn Monroe, Campbell’s Soup, Brillo Pads, and even celebrity photos from Studio 54. Author and biographer Laurence Leamer has an impressive track record of documenting the entourages and close ties of the women associated with celebrity men in some of his previous books: “Capote’s Women”, “Hitchcock’s Blondes”, “The Kennedy Women”, and this latest follows the travails of the women who took a swim through Warhol’s Factory.

Leamer pulls no punches. For those searching for more ‘flower power’ or ‘peace and love’, this is not the book for you. In keeping with that, this is not so much a history of Andy Warhol as it is a detailing of the line of “superstars” that entered and departed from the Warhol sphere of influence. Surprisingly, this makes for reading that is every bit as interesting (and a bit dispiriting) as the numerous biographies that have been written on the man himself.

What Leamer makes clear is that Warhol had a desperate need to be famous. His pop art that sells for such extravagant prices today, never seemed to be a passionate pursuit, and for years it only got him so far along the path of A-list celebrity. Instead, Warhol’s talent for using the beauty and presence of these women to open high society doors seemed to be his true commitment … and the cost to those women mattered little to him. In fact, a recurring theme is his lack of emotional ties. Warhol seemed to carry a void for all but his own image. Although a few benefitted at times, these are the women who paid the price for his public image.

The muses of the title and the ‘superstars’ of Warhol’s Factory are subjects of fairly comprehensive recording and analysis by author Leamer. The ten discussed are: (Baby) Jane Holzer, Edie Sedgwick, Brigid Berlin, Mary Woronov, International Velvet (Susan Bottomly), Viva (Susan Mary Hoffman), Ultra Violet (Isabelle Collin Defresne, Salvador Dali’s former lover), Nico (Christa Paffgen), Ingrid Superstar (Ingrid Von Scheven), and Candy Darling (James Slattery). You may recognize some of the names, but what mattered to Warhol was that each stood out in a crowd, and while clutching his arm, helped soften his homosexuality for the masses. Each brought a level of glamour and a form of respectability to a mostly reserved and often socially awkward man.

Of course, the other side of that coin is where Leamer spends his time. Sex, drugs, art, and parties all over Manhattan were keys. However, Leamer details Warhol’s “independent” films that seemed to offer little more than an outlet for his fetishes, while providing hope for stardom to these women. Warhol made these “underground” movies for his own pleasure and as a way to lure those he wanted as part of the Factory. His movies like “The Chelsea Girls”, “The Nude Restaurant”, and “Blue Movie” may have been the best known, yet ‘smut’ or pornography often was the most accurate label for a Warhol film. Leamer makes this point without dwelling in the gutter.

Self-destruction is a recurring theme throughout Leamer’s recounting the tales of the muses, and he usually provides the evidence of Warhol being the reason, or at least a big part of it. Even with death/suicide occurring all-too-frequently, Warhol rarely showed outward emotion or grief. His peeps were not just replaceable, they were in fact, frequently replaced. Author Leamer goes on to detail Warhol’s connection to and management of The Velvet Underground, as well as his being shot at the Factory in 1968 by radical feminist writer Valerie Solanas (“SCUM Manifesto”). There is very little about this book or its stories that we find uplifting. Actually, the opposite is true. Despair was the emotion I most often felt while reading Leamer’s book, yet it’s also so well researched and insightful that we find ourselves appreciative of pulling back the curtain on a secretive icon of an era.