They came, they saw, and some of them conquered.
"They" are the boys of British rock and roll, those mod rockers and punk slashers who revved up rock in the 1960s and '70s. You know the names of their bands: The Rolling Stones, who will always be first on my list, The Who, The Kinks, The Beatles, The Animals, The Dave Clark Five, The Sex Pistols, The Buzzcocks, Herman's Hermits, David Bowie and any number of his incarnations, and myriad other tight-pants wearing, long-haired musical darlings of the teen set.
Many bands and singers succeeded, but there were also many others who almost made the grade. That trip over the Atlantic meant a lot to most of these fellows. It was the ticket out of some of England's messiest hometowns -- Birmingham, Liverpool, Manchester.
One of the bands was Joy Division, propelled by the awkward, herky-jerky arm flailing of its lead singer, Ian Curtis. In 1980, on the eve of Joy Division's first American tour, Curtis died. Without its heart, the band would spin off and become New Order.
But Curtis, and what he briefly delivered with the post-punk Joy Division, has earned a cult reputation in music circles, and his story is now the subject of an intense new movie entitled "Control." From the band's beginnings as the group Warsaw to the messy London concert during which Curtis almost died as he writhed on stage suffering an epileptic seizure, "Control" is a knock-out of a film, at once gritty and romantic. It's also filled with some of the best rock you may never have heard.
The movie is directed by Dutch filmmaker Anton Corbjin, who is the man behind videos and compilation movies for such groups and singers as Depeche Mode, U2, Metallica and Bryan Adams. Corbjin has crafted his tough-minded, black-and-white feature from a screenplay by Matt Greenhalgh that draws from the book "Touching From a Distance" by Deborah Curtis, Ian's widow.
The movie begins in 1973 as Curtis, a schoolboy with a sharp intellect, slowly lets himself be overtaken by the mystique of David Bowie. By film's end, Joy Division will be a on the brink of superstardom. The movie audience will feel the pressures Curtis himself felt: from his epilepsy, from his failing marriage (caused by his own wandering eye), from being a young father with a new daughter, from his lover (an alluring female journalist), and from the band, who relied on him to keep things on an even keel, a tough call considering Curtis' ill-health, mood swing and haunted-poet disposition.
Even though it's based on a wife's memoirs, "Control" doesn't whitewash the disintegration of a marriage. Mr. and Mrs. Curtis really were fresh-faced teens when they wed and certainly were not prepared for family life.
In spite of a loving wife, beautiful baby girl and promising future, Curtis seems like a hollow man. In every scene he's in, Curtis is the focus of the shot, but you feel the emptiness and regret slowing eroding his sense of reality. I've thought long and hard about revealing how Curtis died. I realize there are readers who know about him, but there are also readers who know nothing about him. My reviewer's sense of fair play tells me to let you experience his death for yourself. Suffice it to say, it involves that most banal of pop culture delivery systems -- the television, a song by Iggy Pop and the medical sword hanging over Curtis' talented head.
With exceptional monochromatic cinematography by Martin Ruhe, "Control" is a visual masterwork. You can almost taste the bleak English backdrops. Corbjin has made a film that deserves to be seen, and he's gathered a superb cast of mostly unknown actors and actresses. He's also very fortunate to have as Deborah Curtis, the magical Samantha Morton, the most well-known member of the cast.
Saving the best for last, Sam Riley is brilliant as Ian Curtis. He's a 27-year-old Englishman who has acted briefly, and only on television -- including, perhaps surprisingly, on "Law & Order." "Control" is his first movie. Not a bad way to begin a film career, believe me. Riley captures the essence of a tormented character as well as anybody I've seen on screen. He joins Emile Hirsch from "Into the Wild" as a potential best male actor Oscar nominee. He's that good.
Curtis was a true neophyte, in love with the glamour of Bowie, then in love with Deborah, who is actually his friend's girl, and then in love with the heady joys of singing in front of a crowd. Riley perfectly plays the part of a someone who is ill-prepared for much of what he accomplishes. Part narcissist, part boy-man, part genius songwriter, Curtis seems doomed from the beginning.
"Control" is a breath of fresh air. It's a biographical film so unlike how Hollywood would capture a life that it seems like a new form of storytelling.
An old form of storytelling can be found in "Sleuth." It's the classic two-character play, and for something like this to succeed you need great words and great actors. Fortunately, the movie has both.
It's drawn from the original Anthony Shaffer drama "Sleuth," which was made into a popular 1972 Joseph L. Mankiewicz movie starring Laurence Olivier and Michael Caine. Shaffer's framework has been polished up and given a new twist by director Kenneth Branagh and screenwriter Harold Pinter. In the early "Sleuth," Caine played the brash young secret lover of Olivier's wife.
This time around, Caine plays the wealthy, aging writer whose wife is having an affair with a sexy, swaggering Jude Law. The movie is a cerebral mystery, a cat-and-mouse game, and a battle of brutal oneupmanship with crackerjack dialogue and impressive performances from both Caine and Law. Who will get the better of whom? Is murder afoot? And whom will you root for? Be prepared to be surprised. Like the house in which the action takes place, the film is sleek and modern and should be a wellspring of satisfaction for people who cherish watching brilliant actors go at each other with a vengeance for 90 minutes. Watching Caine play against the exact same part he once played only adds to the movie's pleasure.
| Niagara Falls Reporter | www.niagarafallsreporter.com | Dec. 11 2007 |