A filmmaker sets out to discover the life of Joyce Vincent, who died in her bedsit in North London in 2003. Her body wasn't discovered for three years, and newspaper reports offered few details of her life - not even a photograph.
It's 1969 at a strict English girls' school where charismatic Abbie and intense and troubled Lydia are best friends. After a tragedy occurs at the school, a mysterious fainting epidemic breaks out threatening the stability of all involved.
This is, without a doubt, the most egotistical film I have ever seen. Carol Morley takes a camera and interviews a bunch of people who knew her when she was of her head all the time. Some of these people are famous, presumably roped in to give this thing a selling point. They all comment on how messed up she was , then we see some POV footage while someone drones on the voice-over. None of this is the least bit interesting, unless you are Carol Morley or one of her mates, and then only maybe.
It's kind of like a home video of your aunties wedding but infinitely more depressing and boring.
Several years later it ends, and we know precisely eff all about the subject. But then again why should we care? Who the bleedin Christ is Carol Morley anyway, why would she assume that people would be interested in her?
Just like sitting next to a total drunk on the bus home as he tells you his life story and how it all went wrong...
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