Losing Control

Control, for those who haven't already heard its phenomenal critical reception, is the story of Ian Curtis, frontman of the band Joy Division. Curtis killed himself at the age of 23, and the band then went on to become New Order, making music in a very different vein. For the first half of the film, I was questioning it pretty deeply. When a film is that highly praised, it's either genuinely unquestionably good, or is incredibly pretentious and panders to the art crowd. Control upsets this equilibrium by being extremely cerebral and minimalist, while also managing to convey a great deal of emotion and plot, and hence borrow heavily from both columns.

Macclesfield - home of tall tower blocks, old people
and sad kids.

In terms of scene length, it squares neatly up to 2001: A Space Odyssey, but still each moment manages to stay pregnant with emotional significance. It's tempting to be controversial and say that it's a very simply-made film with the benefit of a powerful story and a strong cast, but that's not really true. It is, however, the kind of film whose technical brilliance and directorial nuance get lost in the actual watching of it. This is largely due to the audience's feelings towards Curtis himself, but more on that later. For now, it is just important to note that the praise is justified, and Control is an extremely well-made film. The scenes are set with confident authenticity and a real sense of drama, and each frame of the film looks like an NME publicty shot. This one, specifically:

It's even re-staged in the film, folks!

But moving on - Curtis' portrayal in the film is brilliantly dispassionate. It would be entirely possible to succumb to showing him as a true poet, a Byronesque genius who wanted too much, loved too fiercely and died for his efforts. However, director Anton Corbijn takes the far braver route of portraying him as a mess. Why does he cheat on the wife he loves so much? Why does he allow his fame to occupy his life so totally? Why does he kill himself, ultimately? Because he can't cope with where his life has led him. He falls in love with two women in two severely different intensities, he's terrified of his worsening epilepsy, and he's creatively frustrated. He switches wildly from poetically verbose to utterly speechless. It's this dichotomy that plagues the viewer and makes it so hard to sympathise with him. It's not until the final quarter of the film that the viewer really sees what the film is trying to say about Ian Curtis, and when this realisation dawns, the emotional impact is palpable.

You see what happened in that last paragraph? I stopped talking about the film and started talking about Ian Curtis. That's exactly what happened to me in the cinema, too, and this is what marks Control out as an exceptional film for me. I was so taken in by the complex minimalism of the film's character development that I couldn't step outside it to analyse it. There's no question that it's a good film - instead, the you find yourself asking if Curtis was a good man. This is exacerbated by the fact that it's adapted from his widow's autobiographical account of their relationship, which puts a certain skew on the film. But as I say, by the time the credits roll, there is no question where the audience's sympathies are supposed to lie - that is, more or less, everywhere.

Duffel tear us apart, again.

The story deals, as I've said already, with duality. There's the Curtis who stalks around in skinny black jeans, disgusted at the limitation of living in Macclesfield, and there's the Curtis who gazes with warm elation into his wife's eyes and says 'let's have a baby'. Both of these are brought to life perfectly by relative unknown Sam Riley, whose young face shifts constantly from confused schoolboy to brooding rock-and-roll ne'er-do-well, sometimes within a matter of seconds. Samantha Morton also does typically sterling work as Debbie, his wife, taking on her usual calibre of role as the girl who gets left behind, but ensuring by sheer screen presence that the audience never forgets her.

This photograph is not taken from Control. There
are no photographs of Samantha Morton in Control.
She is An Underappreciated Actress.

All-in-all, this is an incredibly moving portrayal of one of pop's most troubled souls, which tells a story that by now has become almost generic, but still manages to surprise and affect, with humanity to spare for everyone involved. If you've never heard of Ian Curtis, it doesn't matter. If you're a huge Joy Division fan, this film captures the moody spirit of their music perfectly. Kudos all around. Just don't expect an easy viewing experience.

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'Beat' Nick went all serious for this one.