‘Nico, 1988’ Review: Trine Dyrholm Brings the Chelsea Girl Back to Life in a Singular Biopic — Tribeca

‘Nico, 1988’ Review: Trine Dyrholm Brings the Chelsea Girl Back to Life in a Singular Biopic — Tribeca
A little girl stands on the outskirts of Berlin and watches from a distance as orange fire melts the city into a shapeless candied glow. Twenty years later, she reappears as a blonde chanteuse in Andy Warhol’s New York City, her stage name attached to one of the most influential records in the history of popular music. Twenty years after that, she sits in a Manchester radio station, patchy and strung out and shutting down any questions about her stint with The Velvet Underground — she’ll be dead in two years, but it looks as if she’s already decomposing.

The first 90 seconds of Susanna Nicchiarelli’s gloomy and grounded biopic visit all three of these periods (though the rest of it is almost exclusively set in the last one), “Nico, 1988” introducing its subject as someone who can’t extricate her present from her past. Several decades into a tortured and compelling solo career,
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