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Film Features Film/TV

Film About Joy Division Lead Singer is Effective Rock Biopic

When the Replacements were drunkenly stumbling toward indie-rock immortality in the mid-1980s, lead singer Paul Westerberg was still living and writing songs for his band’s major-label debut in his parents’ basement.

Why aren’t these revealing economic realities ever shown in movies about artists? Maybe most moviegoers can’t stomach the sight of poverty; maybe they like their cult heroes to emerge from the head of Zeus fully formed, rich and famous.

Director Anton Corbijn’s new film Control, about the life of Joy Division singer Ian Curtis, is a bracing success in part because it stares long and hard into what writer Michael Azerrad called “the yawning gap between critical acclaim and financial reward.”

Read the rest of Addison Engelking’s Flyer review here.

Categories
Film Features Film/TV

An effective biopic of alt-rock icon Ian Curtis

When the Replacements were drunkenly stumbling toward indie-rock immortality in the mid-1980s, lead singer Paul Westerberg was still living and writing songs for his band’s major-label debut in his parents’ basement. Why aren’t these revealing economic realities ever shown in movies about artists? Maybe most moviegoers can’t stomach the sight of poverty; maybe they like their cult heroes to emerge from the head of Zeus fully formed, rich and famous. Director Anton Corbijn’s new film Control, about the life of Joy Division singer Ian Curtis, is a bracing success in part because it stares long and hard into what writer Michael Azerrad called “the yawning gap between critical acclaim and financial reward.”

Like I’m Not There, Todd Haynes’ graduate thesis in Bob Dylan semiotics, Control rejects many biopic conventions, although some of these, like the grinding psychic toil of life on tour and the emotional fallout from the hero’s on-the-road philandering, now seem like an inevitable part of every rocker’s life story. I’m Not There is about the theory of cultural stardom; Control is about the everyday reality of a cultural star, especially before the royalties start rolling in.

Sam Riley plays Curtis as an intelligent, working-class Bowie-phile whose drive to create art co-existed uneasily with his decision to marry young, settle down, and have kids with his wife Deborah (a fierce and vulnerable Samantha Morton, whose gigantic, expressive eyes burn through a paper-thin role). One early sequence succinctly captures Curtis’ discrepant desires. The camera tracks Curtis’ morning walk to a government office, where he works as an employment counselor for people with mental and physical disabilities. Halfway through his walk, the camera glides behind him to show the word “HATE” scrawled in white on the back of his black jacket.

Unlike many rock-star pictures, Control is not interested in showing the fun of emerging stardom. Although they worked hard, the members of Joy Division don’t seem to share many moments of unambiguous creative joy. Their songs were notoriously “assembled,” sometimes instrument by instrument, in the recording studio. And the music they made could hardly be called cheerful. Still, the band’s following steadily increases, as Curtis’ desultory affair with a Belgian woman (Alexandra Maria Lara) and his increasing bouts of adult-onset epilepsy further unmoor him. Riley bravely underplays Curtis’ final days, suggesting that his suicide was somewhat motivated by the way the massive daily doses of prescription medication limited his ability to think clearly about the world around him.

Like many rock stars, Curtis was more in charge of his life when he was onstage, where he could simultaneously act out and escape his troubles. The recreations of Joy Division’s live performances are tense, strange, riveting; like Curtis, Riley dances in a weird march that makes him seem part sleep-deprived jungle trooper and part music-activated android, as if he were endlessly fighting a battle between self-expression and rigid, assembly-line conformity.

Control’s final shot of smoke blowing into the sky (while Joy Division’s “Atmosphere” plays in the background) offers a hint of resolution to Curtis’ struggles. It strikes notes of regret, melancholy, and hope that are as inexplicably affecting as the band’s best music.

Control

Opens Friday, December 21st

Ridgeway

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Editorial Opinion

If It Is Broke, Fix It!

One of the most tiresome aspects of the current political situation in this country is that our two major political parties — which, until quite recently in our history, were aggregates of various constituencies, not ideological monoliths — now oppose each other almost solely on the basis of catechisms.

Nowhere is this more odious than when it comes to dealing with taxes and government expenditures. Everybody on both sides toes a party line. Though few Democrats like to admit it, their party has indeed, as the rival GOP charges, been too dependent on throwing money at intractable social problems. A case in point was the debate in the Tennessee General Assembly this year, in which the Democrats, at Governor Bredesen’s behest, insisted on routing an expected $230 million tobacco-tax windfall into state education. The state House of Representatives’ Republicans proposed a panoply of amendments whereby the money would go to this or that alternative worthy cause — eliminating the sales tax on groceries, for example. Unfortunately, it was generally recognized that the GOP’s strategy was to get the bill amended so it would have to be approved all over again in the Senate — where the Democrats at the time happened to have a couple of absent legislators. Meaning: disapproved. The sad fact is that too many Republicans think no public money is ever required to do anything at all.

Though here and there some brave and independent souls — Democratic state representatives Mike Kernell and Larry Turner of Memphis were two such — broke with party discipline (in their case, to advocate a serious catch-up program in health care), the argument came down to My Pork versus Your Pork. Or more precisely, Pork vs. No Pork. And, nationally as well as statewide, variants of that argument continue on a more or less party-line basis. (See Preston Lauterbach’s “Pork Product?,” on p. 11.)

But maybe the recent bridge catastrophe in Minneapolis will be a prod to both parties, as the Gulf Coast’s devastation by Hurricane Katrina was — or should have been — in 2005.

Unfortunately, not much has been done to amend the still perilous circumstances facing New Orleans and the rest of the Gulf area. The current national administration seems to believe that Katrina was a freak event, not due to be repeated for another thousand years or so. (That’s one thing that comes from a willful disbelief in global warning.)

But, encouragingly, Minnesota governor Tim Pawlenty, who only a month ago was basking in the praise of his Republican colleagues for refusing to approve two different tax proposals to fix his state’s aging infrastructure, has experienced a sudden enlightenment as a result of the lethal collapse of the Interstate 35W bridge. “He’s open to that” is what a spokesman for the governor now says about a new tax for repairing infrastructure.

To paraphrase the poet Schiller, he comes late but he comes. Hallelujah! Having just learned from the federal government’s latest National Bridge Inventory that no fewer than 150 bridges right here in Shelby County are adjudged to be either “obsolete or deficient,” we’d just as soon that our own state government rethink its own priorities — free from all the tired old arguments about “pork” and taxation.

We live here, and we happen to think public safety is worth paying for.