Critics Campus 2026 participant Guuleed Ismail dissects the depictions of extremity, complicated humanity and the figure of the outsider in Mary Harron’s films I Shot Andy Warhol and American Psycho, highlighting the mismatch in public redemption faced by the two films’ protagonists.

“Give me 15 cents and I’ll give you a dirty word,” says Valerie Solanas (Lili Taylor) to publisher Maurice Girodias (Lothaire Bluteau).

“What’s the word?”

“Men.”

Mary Harron’s underappreciated feature directorial debut, I Shot Andy Warhol (1996), screens as a new 4K restoration at MIFF 2026. This ambitious character study focuses on Solanas, a radical feminist who attempted to assassinate Andy Warhol in 1968 and self-published her provocative literary work the S.C.U.M. Manifesto the previous year. At the time of its release, this film offered a glimpse into Harron’s interest in intense, outcast characters. Decades later, the director’s characters continue to resonate with audiences in deep and surprising ways.

In collaboration with Harron, Taylor presented Valerie as isolated, desperate and, importantly, misunderstood by Andy (Jared Harris) and those in his orbit. While Solanas used extreme rhetoric in her manifesto, Taylor’s performance brings to life the emotion between the lines of text, questioning how much of Solanas’s writing is literal and how much is justified frustration in response to women’s lived experiences in the 1960s and beyond. Taylor and Harron’s Valerie leaves room for a genuine examination of her behaviour as a result of outside factors including trauma, lack of human connection and oppressive male encounters. Harron does not depict her as a psychotic villain but, rather, establishes her as a victim of a sexist society.

Extending Harron’s vision, Taylor’s portrayal of Valerie intelligently avoids the trap of framing her as either a protagonist or an antagonist. She lands on an ambivalent lyricism shared with that of Marty Mauser (Timothée Chalamet) in Josh Safdie’s Marty Supreme (2025), another silver-tongued New Yorker who, despite being egotistical and insensitive, is an undeniably enjoyable presence on screen. Taylor’s performance lends Valerie an accessibility that gives the audience a bridge to empathise with her struggles.

Harron highlights her subject’s alienation by contrasting Valerie’s enthusiastic energy with Andy’s disinterest and nonchalance. Often humorous, Harris’s Andy gives dry one-word answers to the press, seemingly does no work in his studio and lacks sincere dialogue with his peers. Taylor’s Valerie, conversely, lacks a filter in any of her social interactions, and provides a quick-witted dark humour to the film. The result of this juxtaposition is a gravitational pull towards Valerie, who possesses some of the only colour and personality we see throughout.

Harron utilises excerpts from the S.C.U.M. Manifesto, filming Taylor reading directly to camera, mimicking Warhol’s filmmaking style. These stylistic detours are often preceded by scenes of dismissal or frustration experienced by Valerie, and serve as translations of the manifesto. These sequences show Valerie as her most composed, reassured self, sharing her art with the audience with an intense glare and proud snarl. But in the ‘real world’ of the film, Valerie struggles to connect with those around her and is constantly shunned. She often lowers her gaze, briefly making eye contact only when necessary. These dynamic changes in demeanour capture Valerie’s shifting confidence, which is tied to her art. Valerie also spends extended periods of time in New York City streets, asking for change and even offering sexual favours to make ends meet. These interactions with others are often transactional and rarely a refuge from her trying circumstances. In depicting an absence of healthy relationships, I Shot Andy Warhol highlights the tragedy of Solanas’s social reality and the possible sources of her extremist gender commentary.

I Shot Andy Warhol

A distinct feature of Harron’s filmography is her attraction to psychologically extreme – particularly, alienated and sexually challenged – lead characters. Valerie is deprived of encounters with people who connect with her work or personality. Andy and his posse are, at best, amused by Valerie, but mainly find her brashness off-putting. Harron’s subsequent feature, the pop-culture phenomenon American Psycho (MIFF 2000), centres on a similarly charismatic but prickly character, Patrick Bateman (Christian Bale), albeit one with a different set of social challenges. Bateman’s alienation is seen through his violence and cruelty despite being a member of the upper class; his criminal acts are ignored due to his elite status. Bateman’s identity as a white male in the corporate world is a defining factor for the lack of social friction in his life – and it is this that sends him into a spiral.

In recent years, the figure of Patrick Bateman has become an icon for the toxic manosphere. His psychotic, violent journey is a cautionary tale, but despite the story’s clearly satirical nature, he is now embraced by men who wish to emulate his lifestyle. Unfortunately, some regard Bateman as the masculine ideal, an embodiment of the recent ‘looksmaxxing’ craze. This idolisation is symptomatic of hypermasculine aesthetics prevalent on social media, which stew within incel communities across online platforms. It’s perhaps this antagonistic corner of the online world that has in part ignited a resurgence, if not a reinvention, of radical feminism today.

While Solanas is not revered to the same degree as Bateman, she is attracting renewed interest: in 2017, Lena Dunham played her in an episode of American Horror Story; in 2019, author Sara Stridsberg fictionalised her life in the novel Valerie; in 2020, The New York Times profiled her as “overlooked no more”; and in 2022, her play Up Your Ass was republished by MIT’s Sternberg Press. The hyperbolic catchcry “Kill All Men” seen on social media distils an understandable frustration with gender inequality and violence. In the past, such commentary largely remained fringe; today, however, the essence of Solanas’s work has re-emerged with a more unified voice. The development of a brand of feminism evoking the S.C.U.M. Manifesto is the result of sustained, painful experiences of sexist abuse inflicted on women and an urgent cry to redress this gender imbalance.

Bateman is cartoonish in his physicality and psychology; this creates a comedic barrier between him and the audience, who find him highly entertaining. Taylor’s Valerie is a more grounded and considered take on a real-life individual, demanding a more careful appreciation of her unfortunate character. It is ironic that, despite Harron’s intentions for Bateman, he is garnering newfound acceptance of the kind that has not been afforded to Solanas, a woman actually in need of understanding and acceptance.

I Shot Andy Warhol screens on Saturday 8 and Saturday 22 August as part of the MIFF 2026 program.

The above has been written as part of MIFF’s Critics Campus program. The opinion expressed is the author’s and does not necessarily reflect that of the festival.