Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis may be rock’s ultimate death-and-rebirth archetype. Like Kurt Cobain after him, his early suicide ensured that his visionary music would live long after he did. But in Control, director Anton Corbijn is more interested in the man than the mythos.
In 1980, Curtis became the “Rock ‘n’ Roll Suicide” that his idol David Bowie romanticized eight years earlier. Before that, he was just a young pop fan immobilized by epilepsy, petty cruelty, and a loveless marriage.
Newcomer Sam Riley is a revelation as Curtis. We feel his near-constant sense of dread, even while he’s hardly speaking. When he sees his newborn child for the first time (looking like Jack Nance in Eraserhead), all he can muster is, “I need a cig.” But Samantha Morton, playing Curtis’s put-upon wife, is the true heart of the film. Right through the moment she finds Ian’s dead body, she’s always suffering because of her husband’s self-absorption.
Joy Division’s music still touches listeners because it remains so enigmatic, its magic hard to define. It’s bigger than a simple rise-and-fall biopic. One of the overriding sentiments of the original post-punk movement was a push toward demystification (the kind Corbijn seeks here). The record sleeves of ’70s/’80s Welsh outfit Scritti Politti taught consumers how to make and distribute music themselves; Leeds act Gang of Four referred to affairs of the heart as “contracts in our mutual interest.” Popping the bubble of rock ‘n’ roll mystique was proper etiquette.
But Joy Division was always out of step with that mentality. Their monochromatic sleeves reinforced the mystique. Martin Hannett’s chilly vacuum production perfectly complemented Curtis’ “touching from a distance” persona. Even Corbijn’s own hazy black and white photographs came to define the band’s elusive appeal. Having never toured the States, only a lucky handful ever even saw them live.
Control is a similar snapshot of Michael Winterbottom’s 24 Hour Party People, which chronicled the rise and fall of Factory Records. Comparisons between the two are inevitable; they both pray at the tomb of St. Ian. But where Winterbottom saw life colored with playful aplomb, Corbijn’s Manchester is all desolation.
Control attempts to humanize Ian Curtis, and it succeeds. It goes for hard emotions, and Corbijn captures each one.
– Stephen Gossett
Control
Director: Anton Corbijn
121 minutes, The Weinstein Company
Opened 10/10/07 in limited US release
Control: momentum.control.substance001.com
The Weinstein Company: www.weinsteinco.com