Being Andy And Becoming Jane: 2 Films Recently Seen.

Perhaps these shoes (painted by Andy Warhol** ) once belonged to his beautiful muse Edie Sedgwick? We'll never know.

All I know is: I like the vibrancy of the colours, the mingled shapes, the unmistakable "feel" of an era.

They're images in the style of a time that was passing; New York, 27 years ago.... that's when the painting first appeared.

Last week I watched Guy Pearce and Sienna Miller in "Factory Girl", directed by George Hickenlooper; they play Andy and Edie, whose names sound like those of an ordinary couple from Rochdale . And I'd been looking forward to this film; both the era AND the Warhol/Sedgwick relationship fascinate me.

It's probably best to blame that fascination on Du Maurier's "Trilby", and her Svengali, who I discovered in a sunny garden in summer, '63.

OR perhaps blame Cathy and Heathcliff on the Yorkshire moors

OR Romeo and Juliet in Italy

OR even Tristram and Isolde ( I got the poster, but not the T shirt...)

OR you COULD blame the boredom of a labour ward in the 70's, before the arrival of my first son. Between contractions, I read a book I still have (" Nicholas and Alexandra" by Robert K Massie ) which the previous Prima Gravida had left. Inside it, was an article about Picasso and his muse, Dora Maar. From then on, I was hooked on Muses and fascinated by The Intense Relationship...

YES. The film was entertaining and colourful and I enjoyed the sets; Warhol's Factory, the sizzle of 60's New York and the music, particularly " Velvet Underground". Everything buzzed in all the right places, just as it should.

And Sienna Miller was pretty, a polished actress, who will have been applauded for her capable interpretation of a hedonistic young woman.

BUT the big star was Guy Pearce, first spotted by me and my children in "Neighbours", as we drank Smoothies and watched Kylie all those years ago.

And has Pearce Grown Up! ( I'm probably the only person in the world who doesn't know WHAT he's been doing since " Neighbours"...)

David Bowie was great as Warhol in Schnabel's " Basquiat" ( 1997) but Pearce's Warhol was superb; he was ice-cool, talented, white haired, pitted-skinned. He was often child-like, he was often the most lost of people. He played Warhol as an enigma, an icon and as such, Pearce was BRILLIANT.

THEN yesterday I saw " Becoming Jane", directed by Julian Jarrold.

This film is about Jane Austen's supposed love affair with Tom Lefroy. It paints pictures we've come to expect of a particular time in English history. It has lush countryside with massive oaks, shimmering lakes. It has ladies in empire dresses playing harpsichords in pastel-painted rooms. It has women in Jemima Puddleduck bonnets ( sorry, wrong film) shawls fetchingly draped around slender shoulders, it has women who shiver with repressed emotion as they cluster together with numerous sisters. And it has men in breeches, men in tights and men running stark naked into woodland ponds in broad daylight..

The film, too, has leering rustic faces, cobbled courtyards, ballrooms where sedate people dance and glance, it has unrequited love, sobs at night, pewter tankards, ample women and stage coaches, which rattle with people, luggage and horses, cantering to London at dawn.

It also has huge shabby houses with furniture we'd die for... and carpets ( faded and Turkish) and curtains ( damask and dusky and satin and silk)....

AND there's James McAvoy ( cheeky, irresistible) who plays Jane's lover, Lefoy. And Anne Hathaway is Jane ( dead ringer for Lizzie Bennett) perfectly cast with beguiling brown eyes, youthful elegance; this Jane exhudes intelligence, romance and ( I have to say it) 21st Century woman.

There's a supporting cast including Julie Walters (Mrs Austen ) Maggie Smith (dreadful wealthy neighbour ) and the late Ian Richardson, in what I imagine was his final film, superbly playing Lefoy's pompous disapproving uncle.

Ultimately, it's a light and pleasant film telling a sad love story; whether it's accurate isn't really its point. ( Its end actually disappointed, spluttering squib-like to the final credits...).

Its point is, I suppose, audience pleasure, Box Office success, The Rising of Stars...

BUT what would Austen make NOW of her "Becoming"?? What would she make of her love life stretched so "imaginatively" for all to see, of her desire to write exhibited, along with the turmoils within her family?

And what would Warhol make of the depiction of his Factory, his even crazier Edie?? Of his talented ludicrous life?

What'd they make of these fantasies,these glossy 21st Century views of their private, intimate selves?

Just imagine: Sitting together on a fluffy pink cloud, high as kites ( in celestial terms, of course) Andy and Jane, looking down together on films in 2007...two folk, different as chalk and cheese.

What in heaven are they thinking?

** Art Print "Shoes" Andy Warhol ( 1980)