Lyzsi SinclairControl
Control (2007)
Director: Anton Corbijn
Starring: Sam Riley, Samantha Morton, Alexandra Maria Lara
What kind of man kills himself at the age of 23, at the peak of his success with an internationally renowned band? This is the burning and mildly voyeuristic question that likely motivates many viewers to see Control, a biopic on Ian Curtis, singer of inimitable post-punk band Joy Division. The answer, as it turns out, is…a fairly ordinary man.
Control is a masterpiece of subtlety by director Anton Cobijn, from the moody black and white cinematography to the understated performances and minimalistic script. Sam Riley plays a Curtis who is a quiet and rather opaque character, melancholy without dramatics.
Ian Curtis is not portrayed as a charismatic pop star in Control: in fact, he seems to be almost devoid of personality, with a few key revealing moments. For Ian Curtis, the fame seemed to be unexpected and cumbersome, the womanizing tore him apart, and the only drugs were to treat – ineffectively – the epilepsy that was to become an overriding concern in his life. Occasionally Curtis would take a leap of faith, only to find the results did not satisfy. “I think we should get married,” he says to his girlfriend at the age of 19, only to later discover that it was too young, and greatly mistaken. “Let’s have a baby,” he says, then finds no feeling of attachment to the child, no correlation between the way he sees himself and the nappies and bottles littering his house. He begins an affair only to find that it doesn’t rejuvenate or restore him in any way, but instead it fills him with guilt and desperation and confusion. His band gained a success that he sought, but he did not consider the unavoidable consequences and responsibilities. And, following a fight with his estranged wife and a severe epileptic fit, Curtis hangs himself without much ado in his kitchen.
Corbijn could have made quite a different film. While the final scene is heartbreaking, Riley’s performance as Curtis deliberately avoids dishonestly engaging the audience by presenting the singer as a tortured, charismatic artist. The result is a believable portrayal in which the viewer could not possibly feel manipulated towards an emotional response. Moments of humour exist, such as a scene before a gig in which Curtis has an attack of the farts from nerves, but these are played out with a light touch and seem almost subliminal in their effect.
Control did not leave me depressed, but it did leave me feeling rather flat and empty. While I found the subtlety worked well and lent a feeling of honesty to the biopic, it may be just too understated for those who like a bit of action or who prefer their protagonists with big personalities. Knowledge of Joy Division and their music may be an added bonus, but it is certainly not necessary in order to enjoy – and be affected by – Control. It may, however, lead to a greater appreciation of Riley’s successful renditions of Curtis’ infamous dance style.
Director: Anton Corbijn
Starring: Sam Riley, Samantha Morton, Alexandra Maria Lara
Photo courtesy of Google. Photo may be copyrighted.
What kind of man kills himself at the age of 23, at the peak of his success with an internationally renowned band? This is the burning and mildly voyeuristic question that likely motivates many viewers to see Control, a biopic on Ian Curtis, singer of inimitable post-punk band Joy Division. The answer, as it turns out, is…a fairly ordinary man.
Control is a masterpiece of subtlety by director Anton Cobijn, from the moody black and white cinematography to the understated performances and minimalistic script. Sam Riley plays a Curtis who is a quiet and rather opaque character, melancholy without dramatics.
Ian Curtis is not portrayed as a charismatic pop star in Control: in fact, he seems to be almost devoid of personality, with a few key revealing moments. For Ian Curtis, the fame seemed to be unexpected and cumbersome, the womanizing tore him apart, and the only drugs were to treat – ineffectively – the epilepsy that was to become an overriding concern in his life. Occasionally Curtis would take a leap of faith, only to find the results did not satisfy. “I think we should get married,” he says to his girlfriend at the age of 19, only to later discover that it was too young, and greatly mistaken. “Let’s have a baby,” he says, then finds no feeling of attachment to the child, no correlation between the way he sees himself and the nappies and bottles littering his house. He begins an affair only to find that it doesn’t rejuvenate or restore him in any way, but instead it fills him with guilt and desperation and confusion. His band gained a success that he sought, but he did not consider the unavoidable consequences and responsibilities. And, following a fight with his estranged wife and a severe epileptic fit, Curtis hangs himself without much ado in his kitchen.
Corbijn could have made quite a different film. While the final scene is heartbreaking, Riley’s performance as Curtis deliberately avoids dishonestly engaging the audience by presenting the singer as a tortured, charismatic artist. The result is a believable portrayal in which the viewer could not possibly feel manipulated towards an emotional response. Moments of humour exist, such as a scene before a gig in which Curtis has an attack of the farts from nerves, but these are played out with a light touch and seem almost subliminal in their effect.
Control did not leave me depressed, but it did leave me feeling rather flat and empty. While I found the subtlety worked well and lent a feeling of honesty to the biopic, it may be just too understated for those who like a bit of action or who prefer their protagonists with big personalities. Knowledge of Joy Division and their music may be an added bonus, but it is certainly not necessary in order to enjoy – and be affected by – Control. It may, however, lead to a greater appreciation of Riley’s successful renditions of Curtis’ infamous dance style.
