THE life and times of '60s "It" girl Edie Sedgwick, the blue-blood American princess with a Harvard education and startling beauty, comes into focus in George Hickenlooper's controversial biopic.

Factory Girl chronicles the meteoric rise and fall of the blonde bombshell against a backdrop of sex, drugs, rock 'n' roll and unfettered creative expression in the city where Andy Warhol held court in his fourth floor studio workspace, the Factory.

With her intoxicating combination of heartbreaking vulnerability and trend-setting style, Edie became a muse to Warhol and an icon for a generation.

However, like so many bright young things, Edie tragically crashed and burned in the white-hot glare of the media spotlight.

She died from a drugs overdose at the age of 28.

At the time, style doyenne Diana Vreeland said of Edie: "She was after life, but sometimes life doesn't come fast enough.'' Hickenlooper's film is book-ended by therapy sessions with Edie (Sienna Miller), as she recalls her life of fame and fabulousness. A year after these scenes she will be dead.

Factory Girl rewinds to trace Edie's departure from California with friend Chuck Wein (Jimmy Fallon), and her arrival in the Big Apple, where she immediately catches the eye of the enigmatic Warhol (Guy Pearce).

"She's beautiful!'' he gasps as Edie dances without a care in the world in the middle of a party.

Installed as Warhol's muse, appearing in a number of his experimental films, Edie becomes a media darling and thrives on people's adulation.

However, her love for a high profile musician (Hayden Christensen) proves Edie's undoing as she falls spectacularly from grace, with no one to catch her.

Factory Girl is a fascinating portrait of an era when anything seemed possible, and fashion and style were as much driving forces as the drugs coursing through New York's veins.

Production designer Jeremy Reed and costume designer John Dunn recreate the mood of the time, from Edie's trademark look (blonde hair, kohl-black eyes and dark tights underneath geometric dresses) to Warhol's studio space, lined with silver foil and cluttered with soup cans and prints.

The soundtrack is a treat too, sashaying from Jacques Dutronc and The Birds to Martha Reeves & The Vandellas and The Strangeloves.

Miller and Pearce both look the part but neither actor gets beneath the skin of their emotionally scarred alter egos.

Christensen mumbles every line and is Bob Dylan in all but name (the character remains anonymous for the entire film).

  • See it at the Odeon