A documentary by James Rasin. Unrated. Opens Friday, July 29, at the Pacific Cinémathí¨que

Transsexual Andy Warhol muse Candy Darling was all about playing with appearances, and this biographical pic stays mostly on the surface too.

Born a boy, James Slattery, in suburban Long Island in the 1940s, Darling grew up reading movie magazines and set one goal: to become a female film star. Considering the time and place Slattery was coming from (you could get arrested in New York for stepping out in drag), it is amazing that Candy achieved her goal—sort of. Darling didn’t just star in Warhol flicks like Flesh but even took top billing in a Tennessee Williams play and was eternalized in Lou Reed’s “Walk on the Wild Side”.

The film is a straightforward mix of diary entries, archival footage, and talking heads like John Waters and Fran Lebowitz. What strikes you most is what a glamorous presence Darling was, with her porcelain skin, Marilyn Monroe–like purr, and immaculately coiffed blond hair. Beautiful Darling becomes most interesting as a study in Darling’s transsexuality: her diary, read by Chloí« Sevigny, says: “I’m not a genuine woman, but I’m not interested in genuineness.” As someone else observes, “She was her own artwork.” Darling created a fantasy and lived it—at least until Warhol cast her out and the toxic hormones she was on finally took their toll.

Where the movie is less successful is in digging into her darker realities. There are hints that she managed to look great while living on peanut butter, and whispers about her turning tricks to survive, but the documentary rarely pries beneath the mystique that Candy so carefully created. Too much focus goes to Jeremiah Newton, a coproducer of the film and one of the friend-servants who took care of her.

In the end, Beautiful Darling isn’t nearly as outsized or stylish as the grand dame herself, but, really, it would take Louis B. Mayer to do her justice, darling.

Watch the trailer for Beautiful Darling.