Control (feature film)
Anton Corbijn is a logical choice perhaps as the director for a music biopic: he has an extensive CV both as a photographer and film maker in the company of rock and pop artists, not to mention having first-hand experience with working alongside Joy Division, the earlier incarnation of the band that would later be known as New Order. His style makes an interesting transition to Control, an unavoidably gritty and ultimately tragic adaptation of Touching from a Distance, the story of Joy Division’s frontman Ian Curtis told from the point of view of his wife Deborah. It charts their first meeting as teenagers and follows Curtis’ tragically short life as a young husband and father, then vocalist of an upcoming band through to his eventual suicide from a combination of illness and personal demons; most importantly it is keen to portray Curtis the man rather than Curtis the rock icon.
The Northern England setting takes on an almost poetic and beautiful atmosphere thanks to Corbijn’s choice of grainy black-and-white cinematography; his influence as a photographer inevitably bleeds into his films and Control is no exception. Even the generic-looking terraced houses, rainy streets and run-down rehearsal rooms are shot in a very artistic light, which surprisingly compliments the ‘grim up north’ kitchen sink drama that forms the narrative’s focus rather than detracting from it. The film does not make a conscious effort to get deep within the mind of its tortured star though, nor does it try to paint he or those around him as villains or saints. In some ways it keeps a respectful distance from any controversial aspects but it does manage to convey his humanity and the background he came from.
Sam Riley’s mesmerising turn as Curtis deserves recognition not just because it’s his debut in a lead role: from the awkward shyness of a working class rock fan who quoted Wordsworth, through his early marriage, pressures of stardom and suffering from epilepsy and depression, to his eventual self-destruction, Riley captures the nuances of his character (both on and off stage) so well that it feels almost eerie. The difference between his usual shy demeanour and the animated, eccentric behaviour he showed when performing live was stark but Riley plays it perfectly and the resemblence is uncanny too.
The supporting cast are also outstanding but feel almost under-used: Samantha Morton plays Deborah with great dignity and the likes of Joe Anderson and Toby Kebbell (Joy division bassist Peter Hook and manager Rob Gretton, respectively) inject some much-needed dry humour into the piece. Fans of the band’s music will be delighted to know that the actors make a thoroughly convincing job of performing the songs too: these moments make up part of a soundtrack comprised of contemporary material which adds to the authenticity of the time and setting.
Curtis’ most private thoughts and the influence of the band’s music in the grander scheme of things are omitted from this adaptation, which may be a disappointment to those looking for a documentary-style analysis of Joy Division’s legacy. On the other hand it’s a very personal tribute to the man who comes across as neither blameless or flawless, but one trying to come to terms with domestic responsibilities and the possibility of stardom (Deborah at one point quips “He’s not famous to me. I still wash his underpants.”). This balance between portraying a character convincingly and descending too far into the despair that claimed his life is one crucial factor that makes this film gripping without being depressing.
The fact that Curtis is not placed on a pedestal nor is his name (or that of anyone else he knew) dragged through the mud also makes this a watchable and significant work for fans. Control does not condone his affair with journalist Annik Honore for instance, but avoids pointing the ultimate finger of blame at anyone apart from the spectres of long-term illness and circumstances that could happen to any other well-intentioned individual. It does however show the emotional fallout for all concerned and as a result shows Curtis as a human being who made mistakes instead of some stylised image of a hero that fans are sometimes exposed to. It is perhaps an incomplete picture of one man’s life but is complete enough to remind us why his influence - and inner termoil - should be remembered.
In Summary
Although there are several well-executed music performances, Control is decidedly focused on the people behind the music and is for the most part quite underplayed in its style. It is first and foremost a story about Curtis and how his family, bandmates and close friends influenced him during his final years of life; the acting cannot be faulted, nor can the compelling rendering of 1970s Macclesfield as a backdrop to the people and events. I can recommend this most to fans of Joy Division’s music but even those who aren’t interested in that aspect are likely to be moved by the drama that unfolded behind it; this is one of the most affecting and striking UK films of recent years.
Posted on May 14th, 2008 @ 7:30 pm
I’d agree with your assessment of the movie. An excellent biopic of Curtis, who was already almost a legend by the time I got seriously into music (just a couple of years after his death).
Just out of interest, I watched Control back-to-back the other night with Michael Winterbottom’s ‘Madchester’ movie 24 Hour Party People, a semi-fictionalised account of Factory Records. It made for a fascinating comparison.