The Pagan Agenda

Rating:

2007 is quickly becoming the year when filmmakers got musician narratives right. My list of top ten films for the year is punctuated by three solid testaments to this fact: Once, I’m Not There, and now Control. The hype surrounding Anton Corbijn’s ‘Control’, a biopic on the life and all-too-early death of Joy Division lead singer Ian Curtis, has steadily rose since its premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival in September, where it was one of the great word-of-mouth recommendations circulating the line-ups. It has since made a believer out of me with its brooding trailer in stark black and white depicting a very convincing Ian Curtis slowly imploding on himself. Despite my recent biopic fatigue with the formulaic Ray Charles and Johnny Cash varieties, a film like ‘Control’ has the power to enchant me with its promises of real human insight.

Now ‘Control’ is in many ways a conventional musical biopic: Ian has noble aspirations for music which are eventually undermined by the demons in waiting of his subsequent fame. It is to the credit of the direction, performance, and ultimately the script that despite these common tropes, Ian Curtis becomes a formidable person in the film, one with complex mental and emotional problems that give context to the headlines and tragic arc we are all so familiar with. The band dynamics of Joy Division are largely ignored in this film as the focus keeps tight on Ian and his psychological torment. The songs just seem to happen effortlessly, there as incarnations of the inner battle, delivered in the now famous spasmodic performances of Ian on stage. In a way, the entire film is a contextualizing of Joy Division’s pop masterpiece, ‘Love Will Tear You Apart’, used effectively to mark the moment when Ian acknowledges his disintegrating marriage, the ‘bad decision’ that he, in voiceover, insists has led to his downfall.

I gravitate towards the bleak in film, having endured a nasty bout of depression in my early twenties. During that time I encountered the film ‘Sid and Nancy’ and it egged on the bad feelings. Sid Vicious became an emblem not unlike Kurt Cobain of living life with a hard gemlike flame and burning out fast. Had I watched ‘Control’ during those dark days it would have impressed on me in ways far more dangerous than they did when balanced. It is a very bleak film about a person who unlike Kurt and Sid appears to have some fighting chance for survival; Ian holds down a day job and is depicted as a very courteous and friendly employee of an employment agency who does his best to find jobs for the underprivileged of society. He is a sensitive soul, all too sensitive perhaps, and adopts the family man role early in his life, entering into the music industry with his feet set firmly on the ground. His fatal flaw appears to be his youthful inexperience and the problems his early success pose on his development ( that and a late developing epilepsy which only enrages his sense of the meaninglessness of life). I felt myself wanting desperately to see Ian resolve his issues with his wife and with himself, to grow into his new identity, but as is now common knowledge Ian instead choose to hang himself at age 23, on the eve before Joy Division’s first American tour.

This kind of absurd end to a life that had such great potential, now consummated into a film, left me incredibly sad yesterday. Some may venture that there is nothing new to this story or no real point but to dwell on the sadness, and only further deepen the wounds of those undergoing some kind of chemical imbalance. I sort of agree with that sentiment. Though beautifully arranged and told, it offers no hope or release for the feelings but leads you towards Ian’s own definitive end. Thus ‘Control’ will not be for everybody. Though left emotionally ruined it was the kind of catharsis that I was requiring, to feel the sadness from a safe distance, to remember what it is to be like Ian, but have built yourself back to something.

I cannot leave this review without first drawing emphasis to the note-perfect performances by everyone involved, most notably, Sam Riley as Ian Curtis, who is not acting but clearly channeling, and Samantha Morton as his wife, Deborah. Their various emotional meltdowns are so convincing I felt a bit embarrassed listening in. There are not a lot of laughs in this film but virtually all of them derive from one figure: Joy Division’s mouthy manager, Rob Gretton, herein played by Toby Kebbell. Wardrobe plays half the performance, granted, but every time he opens his mouth some kernel of comedy gold utters forth.

Here is a clip for your consideration, Academy.