- Rock
- Rated R
- 2008
- Buy the DVD
Reviewed by Mojo Flucke, PhD
(mojo@bullz-eye.com)
here are a million jumping-off points for evaluating this documentary, which works as a companion piece to legendary rock photographer, Joy Division freak, and first-time filmmaker Anton Corbijn's movie "Control" about the life, times, and suicide of the group's lead vocalist, Ian Curtis. Let's start with the subtitle, and add a word (in italics) that makes it more correct: "The True Story of the Meteoric Rise and Fall of One of the Most Influential Cult Bands of Our Time." A cult band that put out two records, and which the press and the band’s label have build a giant mythical sandcastle around issuing books, endless singles and B-sides compilations, and now DVDs. Surviving member Peter Hook puts it straight away in one of the many informing interviews -- Joy Division was two works, the albums Unknown Pleasures and Closer, and all the rest is merchandising.
The postpunk Joy Division were innovative, sounding the early tones of the Goth movement. They didn't know what it was they were doing; it would take a few years of sorting out the noise into categories like power pop, goth, cowpunk, new wave, and all that stuff, but Curtis and Co. knew they wanted to go a little deeper than punk and instead of being aggro, be introspective and lash out at the darkness within instead of kicking the stuffing out of the guy next to you. They also, along with the Buzzcocks, started Manchester's claim to being a center for new music. "Joy Division" runs down many of the main characters, from Factory Records' Tony Wilson, producer Martin Hannett, John Peel, and designer Peter Saville. Even members of the Buzzcocks and Throbbing Gristle toss in their two cents on what they remember. Where people haven't survived, the producers did a great job of exhuming video and audio footage from radio and television shows and dropped in the material seamlessly.
It's good journalism, and considering the rotten live raw footage extant, it's clear there wasn't much to work with. So the filmmakers attempt to capture the design ethos coming out of the early-‘80s run-down industrial city caught in the groundbreaking album covers and photography of the era -- and it kind of distracts the viewer from the fact that the documentary is, in essence, a lot of talking heads remembering as much as they can about a little known, short-lived band. Joy Division was discovered after it died; Curtis killed himself on the eve of the band's first -- and likely breakout -- U.S. tour after playing mostly around Manchester.
The problem is, perhaps it was too good of a journalism job. The legend dies along with Curtis here, who is painted as a frail, fragile guy who sang like Jim Morrison and danced weirdly, herky-jerky and possessed -- but without the chemical help the Lizard King needed to pull off his act. His peculiar mannerisms and moody lyrical poetry could be traced to undiagnosed bipolar disorder and later, definitely diagnosed epilepsy -- and the prescription drugs he needed to take to control his affliction. The changes Curtis undergoes in his stage act are glaring, even frightening, but at no point does one get the idea that they're watching one of the most influential bands of all time. In fact, anyone into '80s Madchester knows that New Order -- formed when Curtis's survivors carried on without him -- scaled higher heights, probably because they were more accessible to the pop charts.
Hook's legendary aloof arrogance permeates the production, no greater than in one statement tucked away in the droning, almost insufferable 75 minutes of bonus (read: shoulda been left on the cutting-room floor) material included with the documentary: “After Ian died, U2 (in not so many words) stole our act and became what we would have.” It's just not true. And that's the problem with the myth of Joy Division: Interesting characters who started an important scene and helped lay a foundation for a hundred more bands that saved us from Michael Jackson, DeBarge, Cinderella and Cutting Crew. But they weren't ever U2. They weren't even Bauhaus. This DVD just confirms what those of us who were too young -- or too far away -- to witness Joy Division firsthand probably suspected all along: Good, yes. Great, possibly. Flawed and tragic? Definitely. Interesting and innovative? Yes. Hall of Fame material? No. Excellent DVD, but there's less there there than we've been led to believe.