Friends, even boyfriends, recall Vincent’s elusive, secretive quality. She harboured dreams of a singing career.Īnd yet the more the pieces fit together in the story, the bigger the gaps appear. The beautiful, charismatic, capable and ambitious London-born product of Indian-Caribbean parents, she had a wide and occasionally glamorous social circle, which included people in the music industry. Morley spent five years tracking down people who knew Vincent and recreated her life and demise partly through traditional documentary means but also via reconstructed (or imagined) scenes using actors.Īs we soon discover, Vincent was far from the stereotypical image of a recluse, or a social misfit. And the television remained on, breezily, constantly, chatting away to this nightmarish scene. The woman, 38-year-old Joyce Vincent, was sitting on the sofa, surrounded by part-wrapped Christmas presents. The bedsit was in a complex directly above a busy shopping centre, surrounded by other flats. The details of the scene are eloquent and appalling. It carried the grim tale of council officials breaking open the door of a north London bedsit to find the decomposed remains of a woman in her late 30s, who had seemingly been dead for almost three years. The genesis of the film came when Morley picked up a discarded copy of the Sun on the London Underground in 2006.
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