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It seems more than appropriate to mark the 30th anniversary of the death of Ian Curtis on such a day as this, overwhelmingly gloomy, hung with droopy clouds and covered in misty rain. It's a day rife with melancholy, and a perfect day to reflect upon what was lost 30 long years ago today.
Whether you love him or hate him, see him as a sinner or a martyr, there's no getting around the level of talent Ian Curtis, and his band Joy Division, had in spades. Something in his voice, and in those lyrics, captured the spirit of the times, and captured the spirit of what was to come. In the pain and anguish of his soul, there was something beautiful and free. Someday we'll know what Curtis found that day in May years ago, but for now we're left with the songs, the songs that continue to inspire to this day.
Spare a thought for Ian today, and a thought for all the lost souls gone too soon.
mp3: Disorder (Joy Division from Unknown Pleasures)
mp3: Means To An End (Joy Division from Closer)
I saw a preview for “Joy Division” while watching my DVD copy of Control for the first time. Naturally, I felt compelled to watch the documentary version of the dramatic version of the true story of Ian Curtis and Joy Division. Finally, it arrived in my Netflix queue. And it was so good, I kept it two nights, instead of my usual “watch it and return it” process.
Where the drama starring pretty young things was pretty bloody great, so too is the doc featuring the genuine articles.
We begin with a Marshall Berman quote (from All That Is Solid Melts Into Air), stark white text on a black screen: “To be modern is to find ourselves in an environment that promises us adventure, power, joy, growth, transformation of ourselves and the world – and at the same time that threatens to destroy everything we have, everything we know, everything we are.” These words ring true of so many, undoubtedly, but for our purposes, they certainly apply to Ian Curtis. But this film, unlike Control, is not just about Ian Curtis.
It’s as much about the city of Manchester as it is about the musicians she spawned: a “story of a city” as they say in the opening seconds. Vintage photos and news footage shape the impression of Manchester in the 70s as a grim, grimy, desolate modern wilderness, caked with the soot of industry and left to ruin, with giant apartment blocks going up one after the next adding to the soulless feel. It’s no wonder one of the greatest post-punk bands (and so many great, yet moody bands) emerged from the crumbling city.
Interspersed with tales of Manchester are the threads of the Joy Division story. The Sex Pistols gig did indeed inspire Peter Hook and Bernard Sumner to start a band, which they called Warsaw. Ian was next to join, followed by drummer Stephen Morris. The band was renamed Joy Division after something Sumner read in World War II-related book House of Dolls. Hearing these stories come from the mouths of those who were there really gives life to the legend, and additional testimony is added from Very Important Persons in the saga of Joy Division like Tony Wilson and Ian’s Belgian gal pal Annik Honoree. There’s tons of vintage footage from Joy Division gigs and TV appearances to hit home just how good a band this was. All in all, “Joy Division” is a touching, visually-stunning, important film about the doomed pioneers of post-punk, and a valentine to the musical legacy of Manchester.
"Control" is a band biopic, a love story, a tragedy. It is uber director Anton Corbijn's homage to and interpretation of the myth of Joy Division, a stark black and white opus powerful in its bleak austerity. Mostly, it is the story of Ian Curtis, whose tragically brief story is fairly well-known at this point, though Corbijn's thoughtful flick gives new insight into the troubled, doomed Curtis.
"Control" is a fitting name for the film, because in addition to the song "She's Lost Control" being one of Joy Division's best-known songs, the theme of control is central. Be it Ian's control over his destiny, his lack of control over his health and his fate, the control Curtis' familial obligations have over him as his story unfolds, and ultimately the lack of control anyone has in saving Curtis from himself.
We first see Curtis, played brilliantly by Sam Riley, as a teenager, nicking pills from elderly ladies and swanning about in his bedroom to David Bowie. After proposing in a sun-dappled pastoral scene, young Ian marries his school sweetheart Debbie (Samantha Morton), and they move into a small house together. At this point, the movie sunlit and bright, as was Curtis' future. Inevitably, darkness begins creeping in with Ian's diagnosis of epilepsy and subsequent prescription-related problems. Cracks also appear in Ian and Debbie's marriage, despite the birth of a daughter. Curtis meets and falls in love with Belgian fanzine writer Annik, who seems to represent the opposite of Ian's safe, predictable life in gray Macclesfield. As with most, this love triangle doesn't end well.
It's all there, Joy Division's first television appearance, the contract with Factory Records written in blood by Tony Wilson, the announcement of the U.S. tour, and Curtis' dark final few hours watching Werner Herzog. But in addition to what we already knew, Corbijn deftly presents a portrait of an artist as a young man, a troubled soul in turmoil, and a gifted singer with incredible talent. It's an incredibly sad story, and the glimpses of happiness are rendered that much more acute when pitted against so much gloom and doom. It's perfectly acted, perfectly shot, and just about flat-out perfect. "Closer" is a must for anyone who loves Joy Division, and pretty much anyone who likes great movies. If you're anything like me, though, make sure you've got some tissues handy.
