"Control"... Beyond Biopic

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I have to admit to being a bit of a novice when it comes to Joy Division, however anyone with any semblance of interest in music would need to have been living under a rock not to know of this preeminent band, and the tragic, premature demise of their front-man, Ian Curtis.

"Control", released in late 2007, was a film I had planned to see, but for whatever reason, didn't - until Friday night.  It's an extraordinary movie, not least because of the story it tells, and how that story unfolds.  Back-lit by Ian's immense talent, complexity and darkness, "Control" leads you through a series of events - the defining highs and catastrophic lows - resulting in Ian's decision to take his own life.  At times, the viewer finds themselves uplifted by Ian's youthful adoration of Deborah, his wife and the intensity with which he pursues success for Joy Division - but at all times, you're cognisant of the fact that this man was utterly different to his surroundings and those occupying them.  His descent from the brave [betimes, brashly-so], intensely intelligent, poetic and witty man, to the frightened, isolated, addled individual he leaves us as, is a stark and heart-wrenching portrait of his sense of the world and what little choice it had left him.

Corbijn's dexterity as Director is well-illustrated in his ability to transpose Curtis's emotional terror and turbulence through lighting, colour and imagery - the result of which is a penetrating and emotionally rich depiction.  The music [played live by the cast, an admirable and just decision] provides a robust centre-piece, around which the story revolves.  An impeccable ensemble of actors adds boundless weight to the film - particularly actors Sam Riley and Samantha Morton, playing Ian and Deborah Curtis.  At times, you can find yourself second-guessing whether it is Curtis you're watching during performance scenes, such is Riley's ferocious embodiment of the singer.

This modern tale of a man - talented beyond his own comprehension or management, battling reality, decisions and circumstances beyond his control - despite the darkness of its content, is exquisitely depicted.

Curtis's inevitable death is shocking, despite your awareness of its impending arrival; and the delicate orchestration of what, in essence, is such a brutal end of life, adds more weight to this sentiment.  Having lost a friend many years ago to the same end [at the exact same age as Ian Curtis] those closing scenes regenerated some old feelings, particularly that gut-wrenching finality of suicide.

All that can be said is this: Curtis was definitely unique in his extraordinary talent, but like many before him and some contemporary examples, he became a victim of circumstance.  The man's sensitivity and ability, and the decisions he made lead him toward a minefield from which he could see no return.  As the credits roll, you find yourself thinking: twenty-three. It was just the start of things. But he couldn't see that.  All that was left was darkness.