A stunning directorial debut from Anton Corbijn depicting the tumultuous times of the late Ian Curtis and Joy Division. Following the front mans slightly reclusive adolescence, his coming to terms with epilepsy, the forming and rise of the band and being torn between the two women in his life; his wife Deborah and mistress Annik, leading up to the inevitable suicide that helped propel the band to its ultimate status.

Shot entirely in black and white, the shooting style, cinematography, lighting and shading like Anton’s original photographs are reminiscent of the times and add to the iconography of the film.

At times it is very slow but never tiresome. Very matter-of-factly dry look at the world in which he once frequented, mixed with poetic readings of his own lyrics and even quoting Wordsworth makes it a bizarre but reasonably balanced account of his life and times.

Unfortunately too much time seems to be spent on the relationships between the two women instead of between the band members who almost blend into the background. There is very little on the dynamics of the band and shows him as the entity that is and the rest of the band simply as the others. But with Deborah Curtis as executive producer and the story based on her memoirs, it is an insight into the infamous front man that goes much deeper than the music alone.

There are some truly memorable performances from Sam Riley as the brooding and melancholy Curtis and some strong support from Nottingham’s local talent.

Although it almost goes without saying, an amazing soundtrack to boost. With plenty of Joy Division, Bowie and other things that heavily influenced the time.

by Ian Cook

Control
***

A biopic of troubled Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis was never going to be an easy project to bring to the screen. A faithful and adequate telling of a story known to many of the inner discord of a man put on a pedestal by many more while still appealing to the broader cinema audience has to tread some sensitive ground, and anything less than perfect could cause uproar.

Director Anton Corbijn has avidly stated that Control should not be viewed as a rock n roll film, but for all these wishes the music is naturally inextricable from the subject matter. As you’d expect from the renowned photographer/music video director it’s slickly shot, with an indefinable edge of cool – the monochrome palette evoking Corbijn’s own photography of the era, and the sweat-drenched concert scenes featuring much of Joy Division’s back catalogue truly bring the film to life.

Much of the story is given to the deep connection that was the basis of his relationship with Annik Honoré – a surprise considering the original starting point for the screenplay was wife Debbie Curtis’ autobiography Touching From A Distance. Here the affair is depicted as tender, loving and fulfilling, as Honoré is shown to be the only one who truly understands this complicated man, while his marital relationship is largely sidelined. Perhaps this is the point, as it was reportedly the case in Curtis’ own life, but not enough is made of the conflict between these two lives and the subsequent guilt that added to Curtis’ inner struggle and self-loathing that ultimately consumed him. It is touched upon, as is his dismay at the loss of control in his life through both the runaway success of Joy Division and the epilepsy which afflicted him, but it is not examined in enough detail as to show the only option left to him was suicide to escape it all, bar the fact that it actually happened. Granted, this is no mean feat when you’re trying to recount the story of a man who ultimately no one understood, but taking a little artistic licence in this respect may have helped add that extra layer of depth, facts be damned.

It is, however, a tour de force of superbly well judged and emotive acting performances. Newcomer Sam Riley is a joy to watch in the lead role, while relative veteran Samantha Morton brings real depth and empathy to the role of Deborah Curtis. The film’s humorous moments are also disarmingly funny – the highlight being Toby Kebbel’s outstanding portrayal of Joy Division’s bluntly forthright manager Rob Gretton – look out for this man in the future.

It’s slick, it’s pretty, the performances are outstanding, and the soundtrack is obviously brilliant and will make you run back home to dig out that old copy of Unknown Pleasures. But as a depiction of the inward decline of a troubled soul consumed by the onslaught of his own manifested dreams while struggling to hold on to his identity, it doesn’t quite come off.

In fact it seems the film infers prior knowledge of the man’s life to string together one excerpt to the next without any real flow, meaning for the casual audience things could seem patchy and episodic, while for those knowledgeable on the subject there is nothing revelatory here. It’s more life than story, and more style than substance (pun not intended), but still a worthy addition to the music biopic pantheon that will most certainly keep the die hard Curtis fans happy.

by Phil Dixon