control

CONTROL Genius Products, 122 mins. When Control opens, Ian Curtis is a malnourished Manchester lad living on a diet of David Bowie and pilfered prescription meds. By the end of the film, he’s a suicide case only two days away from a promising tour of the states as the lead singer of Joy Division, next in line to inherit Britain’s well-tarnished title as “Best Band in the World.” Rock history is littered with these tragic ironies, victims of success and excess who’ve ascended to the throne of musical martyrdom. Outside of the UK, Curtis is only a minor figure, like some lesser saint who only attracts the most desperate prayers from his small but devoted faithful. Control, based on the book by Curtis’ widow and directed by video auteur Anton Corbijn, isn’t interested in making the man a legend; but turning the legend into a man. Shot in B & W, the cinematic equivalent of pressing on vinyl, Corbijn (who snapped shots of the band early in his career) meticulously recreates the groups’ appearances on shows like “So It Goes” and restages some of their more well-documented live shows. He seems intent on not only capturing the essence of Curtis, but the broken-down factory from which he sprung: Macclesfield, a city of drab skylines and depressing interiors. Of course, we’ve seen plenty of other self-centered rock stars implode. With the benefit of hindsight they seem almost predictable, as is much of Control, which isn’t immune to over-glorifying the band and Curtis’ “genius” as a latter-day Burroughsian poet. Actor Sam Riley’s spot-on vocals and spastic choreography might raise the most goosebumps, but Corbijn keeps his camera focused on the domestic disintegration at work behind-the-scenes. Control has a distinctly feminine perspective, painting Curtis as a conflicted husband / father and selfish sod. During an argument about his longstanding affair with a music journalist, child-bride Debbie pleads “But you love someone else” to which he replies in true wanker-fashion “What’s that got to do with us?” Although it’s obvious Corbijn still has his eye glued to the viewfinder (any particular shot could be matted and framed), he elicits surprisingly strong performances from his two leads. In fact, it’s the saving grace for a film that could have easily been dragged down by the weight of its artistic pretensions. When Control finally reaches its penultimate moment - Curtis’ suicide which is then swallowed up by the success of New Order - it’s almost an afterthought; as unglamorous and working-class as one-bedroom flat he died in. Extras: Corbijn contributes a feature commentary and separate on-camera interview to go along with a Making Of featurette and collection of Joy Division music videos. JOY DIVISION Genius Products, 96 mins. Grant Gee’s documentary is much more than a companion piece to Anton Corbijn’s Control; it’s essential viewing to balance out the story. While the shadow of Ian Curtis’ death looms large over the proceedings, there’s little here about the domestic drama that drove him to suicide. Joy Division looks at the big picture, made up of interviews, bootleg concert footage and TV appearances. From their formative years as Sex Pistols posers to rewriting punk rock diction – the rebellious “Fuck you” agenda evolved into a more reflective “I’m fucked” in a matter of three short years. Gee gathers the remaining members of the band, along with Factory Records founder Tony Wilson, to relate the facts and lets the music speak for itself. Extras include over 75 minutes of additional interviews and a music video for Transmission