The fame of an “It Girl” may be fleeting, but watching a re-creation of it can be interminable. George Hickenlooper’s “Factory Girl” buys into the myth of Edie Sedgwick, a beautiful woman consumed by a celebrity and addiction that eventually killed her.

A stunning creature with a pixie cut, Sedgwick was Andy Warhol’s “It Girl” of 1966, and as quickly as she won the adoration of the art world, she lost it. Unable to cope with her lack of success or control the drug habits she cultivated at Warhol’s famed Factory, she suffered a fatal overdose in 1971 at 28.

“Factory Girl” lays Sedgwick’s demise at the feet of Warhol and a composite character based on Bob Dylan (Hayden Christensen). Warhol (played by the Australian Guy Pearce) plays the mentor who used her up and spit her out while Mr. Dylan becomes a lost lover who could have saved her. Glomming on to their celebrity, the film pits the two icons as jealous figures fighting for Sedgwick’s affection, but this is just one of many oversimplifications that undermine attempts to add weight to Sedgwick’s story.

In trying to capture the halcyon days of Warhol’s Factory, the film ends up with a cheap replica. “Factory Girl” displays some beautiful people and exposes the disposable nature of fashion and celebrity, but adds no insight to the era or the iconic artist who made the commodification of art — and people — into an art form itself.

Fascinated with the flittering butterfly of Sedgwick, the film tries to display her appeal and influence on the era of stick figures and twirling dresses. But recreating the attention and focus of the art world is about as difficult as retaining it in the first place.

Ms. Miller’s resemblance to Sedgwick is often uncanny. The women share a coltish beauty and, to some degree, reputation — shot to stardom as style “It Girls,” and quickly retreating from the public’s admiration. But watching an It Girl try to prove why people should be watching her can get very tiring.

Sedgwick was a beautiful girl with a distinctive look, but that’s about the extent of her legacy; history knows her more for her inability to cope with life than any contribution she made to art.

“Factory Girl” suffers from the carbon curse of biopic in its extremity. The excitement of watching icons onscreen is tempered by the unavoidable comparisons or the actors and their real-world counterparts in any celebrity biopic, but in the world of a man who spent his career focused on forms of duplication, recreation has proven especially illusive. Crispin Glover (“The Doors”), Jared Harris (“I Shot Andy Warhol”), David Bowie (“Basquiat”), and now Mr. Pierce have all made attempts at portraying Warhol on film. The artist’s signature look may be easy enough to capture, but a white wig does not a Warhol make.

Similarly, Mr. Christensen clearly mimics Mr. Dylan’s look, but botches his delivery. Mumbling and knowing looks define his interpretation of the folk singer. As Sedgwick’s friend and director, Chuck Wein, Jimmy Fallon looks like uncomfortable scenery with a bad dye job. Other star casting adds little to the plot, and the film never breaks through the veneer of these iconic 1960s figures.

The attempts here merely flatten their images, rather than adding to them. Part of Andy Warhol’s brilliance lay in his ability to blur the lines of whether his work reflected or transformed the culture. “Factory Girl” does neither.

mkeane@nysun.com