Ian Curtis and Joy Division are such obscure topics, I figured Hollywood couldn’t ruin nor fabricate their brief, tumultuous tale much. Thankfully, I was right! Even though an early death has always been a smart career move (see the Doors, SRV, Jeff Buckley, Lynyrd Skynyrd, Marilyn Monroe or Elvis), the biopic films that follow are usually dreadful (see previous list). Well, Hollywood had nothing to do with the making of Control outside of its distribution so there’s my immediate explanation of why it was good.
The film is based upon Touching from a Distance written by his widow Deborah Curtis which made it really focused on Ian and little on the band. Eventually, the documentary Joy Division will be making the rounds for those wanting to see more about the music.
Control starts in Manchester 1973. The UK’s overall decline is pretty evident and nowhere is it more pronounced than in the North. Like many of the area’s disaffected teenagers, Ian is a detached, sullen kid who feels he has no future so he resorts to drinking, smoking and taking recreational drugs. However, he has a love and knowledge of poetry and through Deborah’s observations, he also enjoys writing because his work is organized into categories: lyrics, poems and novels. Glam Rock is currently the dominant trend in popular music and youth culture which explains why the David Bowie, Lou Reed and Roxy Music posters and records in his room—these are the true influences of his work and his contemporaries unlike the Sex Pistols. On the surface, Ian appears to be another moody, wannabe poet yet there’s a charisma to him. Deborah is eventually swept up in Ian’s better attributes because when they met she was originally dating another boy. By 1975, they’re married at age 18.
At first, married life seems to be okay. They have a place of their own. Ian works at the unemployment office placing people into jobs, a rather dark, funny fact of his life. Restlessness inevitably sets in and he tries his hand at being the singer for a band called Warsaw because he’s friends with the guitarist and bassist—Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook respectively. The chemistry between them leads to bigger and better things: the name change to Joy Division, TV appearances, a record contract and performing outside Manchester. And as it goes with the age-old story of Fame, there’s a price to it. For Ian, it’s his marriage: he feels his marriage to Deborah was a mistake and begins an affair with Belgian groupie/”reporter” Annik yet he doesn’t want to divorce Deborah. Then it’s his health: the late nights, booze and the randomness of medication lead to more frequent, devastating epileptic seizures—ignorance doesn’t help neither, many audiences thought his manic jerking motions were part of the show. Finally, it’s his psyche because he feels the band’s success is too much for him to handle and people want to see a character, not necessarily him. Everyone knows how the story concludes because every mediocre DJ on an Alternative radio station has to remind us constantly after a playing a New Order song…he takes his own life at age 23.
Although I was only 11 when Ian’s story “ends” and never even heard of New Order until 1985 in Spin magazine’s review of low-life, he and John Belushi were my generation’s Jimi Hendrix, Janis Joplin and Jim Morrisson. That weird, ghoulish obsession popular culture fixates on in a mythical way, a secular martyr of sorts. He was only known in a small circle of college students—Goths and Music Geeks mainly—but it was a position he held until the more popular Cobain took his place. Control helps de-mystify his suicide in my opinion. It was probably an impulsive decision on his part because depression, chemical imbalances and being emotionally overwhelmed are powerful enough to turn off self-preservation. There’s no obsession over what he listened to, watched, said, etc. Those were just details (not clues or symbols) when his wife last saw him. Deborah probably figured he was his usual drunk, moody self while he yelled at her. There may have been warnings from Ian yet most of the time people sense it nor do the truly suicidal telegraph it. Ian Curtis was a creative person who was swept away by the pace and circumstances of his changing life.
Despite it being morbid, I honestly liked Control yet I think most audiences will be bored by the movie which will keep it to “cult” status. One huge factor is its length, two hours. On the other end of the spectrum will be those who are disappointed by its shortcuts to keep it more succinct: they skip over Joy Division going through three drummers, Bernard’s last name is Sumner the whole time never Albrecht (his real name), time is compressed from 1973 to 1977 within the first hour, etc. Much like Miracle, I can live with these details being truncated since it doesn’t destroy the “larger” story’s point. Being a black and white movie was a nice touch too. It amplifies the dreariness of what England must have been like then, the general malaise affecting the country then. I was only a little American kid in 1973-1980 so my perceptions and understanding are based upon what was written about those years. The casting director did a marvelous job on getting actors who resembled the band members too. Right away you recognize these two guys in a pub with Ian and Deborah as Peter and Bernard when they first appear. Same goes for the closing minutes of Peter, Bernard and Stephen all being sad; sitting next to Stephen, comforting him is Gillian; a little foreshadowing of the quartet New Order which would remain in Ian’s shadow for years. Lastly, other than the band members being shown as two-dimensional characters (Peter is gruff and likes to say “cocks,” Bernard is a neat freak and rather prissy and Stephen is just fills space), it’s still fair to the other major players. Annik the mistress isn’t portrayed as a home wrecker or a celebrity leech, driving a wedge between Ian and his wife—Ian made this choice, Annick was no temptress. Deborah the wife isn’t a strident, needy vampire who drove Ian to Annik either; she isn’t phased by popularity as she says at a party, “He isn’t famous to me, I still wash his underpants.” Ian isn’t a lecherous person, just a victim of his fame, indecision and unwise choices. He then realizes too late that he isn’t strong enough to commit to either woman, to the band or to himself.
Worth Seeing? If you’re a fan of music, namely its history, then this little sliver portraying an element of Joy Division will go on to be mandatory. Today there are bands demonstrating Ian and the others’ influences: the Editors and Interpol are two obvious examples. Fans of biographical pictures? Maybe, yet I doubt it, Ian Curtis isn’t well known. Everybody else, I would recommend avoiding it unless the song “Love Will Tear Us Apart” brings tears to your eyes. Call me dorky, wimpy or whatever, but the first time I heard it I couldn’t help it, still do occasionally. My roommate had told me basic story or myth built up around the single while we listened to it. Ian’s baritone and lyrics really convey how much anguish he must have felt when sang it.
