Karen Gillan is pretty and picturesque with a near-perfect clipped Jean Shrimpton accent, but the real drama of the film is between Helen McCrory's stuffy aristocratic sub-editor of Vogue, and the brash, foul-mouthed David Bailey (or "Bailey" as he likes to call himself) as portrayed authentically and confidently by Aneurin Barnard. These two chalk and cheese types are at each other's throats for practically the whole film, so much so that it slightly distracts from the interest of the pictures and the story, well played though the roles are.
Whether Bailey really had this much trouble with his bosses is speculative, but he certainly must have ruffled a few feathers in those early days (and his photos in truth, make for gritty but otherwise surprisingly poor use of Manhattan.) Whether this iconic photo shoot was really the birth of the Swinging Sixties is also open to doubt (Bailey himself has no love of the Beatles who are heard on the radio back home), and the New York of 1960 was probably not quite as clean as the New York of today, but the pictures are nonetheless well captured, and the film is enjoyable as an account of two young people's journey of discovery.
Whether Bailey really had this much trouble with his bosses is speculative, but he certainly must have ruffled a few feathers in those early days (and his photos in truth, make for gritty but otherwise surprisingly poor use of Manhattan.) Whether this iconic photo shoot was really the birth of the Swinging Sixties is also open to doubt (Bailey himself has no love of the Beatles who are heard on the radio back home), and the New York of 1960 was probably not quite as clean as the New York of today, but the pictures are nonetheless well captured, and the film is enjoyable as an account of two young people's journey of discovery.