Control

No, not another post about how the government is robbing the citizens of this great nation of more and more freedom through their ever expanding control of this nation, although, Lord knows, there is an near infinite amount to write on that particular topic. Instead, this post is about Anton Corbijn's Control.

As always, there are spoilers ahead.

You'd be forgiven for thinking that the story of Ian Curtis would not lend itself easily to the creation of an enjoyable movie. For anyone not in the know, Curtis was a Manchester born post-punk musician, known for his brooding, intense - almost gothic- music. He was the lead singer of Joy Division, who were about to become nationally famous when he took his own life on the eve of an American tour. He left behind a wife, a baby daughter and a Belgian lover. A compelling story perhaps, but not one that would necessarily translate into a good picture.

Yet Corbijn manages to make the film eminently watchable, and also, on some levels, enjoyable. He remembers to include some humorous moments, with both the portrayals of Rob Gretton and Tony Wilson being very entertaining. He resists the instinct to film the areas around Macclesfield and Manchester as unremittingly bleak, and allows moments of beauty to permeate what could be a very dour film. The black and white print again could make the film drab, but actually makes it more realistic.

But the perhaps the best part of the film is the sensitive presentations of the main characters, and particularly the central love triangle of Curtis, his wife and his lover. There are no heroes and no villains. Without having to spell it out, the film makes it clear why Curtis married, why that marriage did not work as well as it could have done, and why his lover appealed to him so much (and vice versa). There is also a very telling scene, where favourite colours are discussed, that shows that Curtis is still very young and very immature. The film indicates that Curtis found himself with a choice between living the typical life of a man born and bred in Macclesfield - wife, child, two up, two down house - and living the life of an avant garde rock star. And given his immaturity, his illness (epilepsy) and his depression, he managed to paint himself into a corner - and he felt that there was no way out. Hence his tragic, premature, death.

Ultimately the film manages to be sad and tragic rather than harrowing and depressing. And given the subject matter, that is a triumph for Corbijn.