Film: Joy Division (2007)
May 24th 2008 07:12
Foreword: 2007 was the year of films about Joy Division, or, more specifically, Ian Curtis. And so, to use his own words, the Atrocity Exhibition continues. Perhaps this review would not be as caustic had I not been suffering from a bit of Joy Division retrospective fatigue following the admittedly excellent film based on Deborah Curtis’s depressing book*, but I can only call it as I see it. So here goes:
Okay all you simpering 2008-minted Joy Division fans – let’s have it out here. New Order was a far superior and more influential band than Joy Division ever were, but many of you will never be exposed to that brilliance except through films about their former incarnation. And that is a damn shame.
It is an unedifying experience indeed to watch this great band, billed as the ‘surviving members of Joy Division’, telling Ian’s sad tale for the 100th time in 20 years. And why? Because, unlike their friend and his beautiful corpse, they have lived to be scraggy old dads. Therefore, goes the rock myth, their story – 20 million sales, ten studio albums and an entire generation notwithstanding – does not have the cachet of the dead rock star. It is a story that, like the rock macabre of Altamont, Brian Jones and Sid Vicious before it, and GG Allin after, is more emo than rock, and needs to be laid to rest.
It is nothing short of painful to watch Hooky call upon every last reserve of (not substantial) acting talent to tell us he wished he’d seen Ian’s body – at the time (aged 22) he reckons he’d rather have been at the pub. It is cringeworthy to see the aimiable Stephen Morris, a mere bairn at the time of Ian’s death, who has lived his entire adult life as a member of New Order, recall something that happened so long ago it is barely part of his life story any more. Even Barny, clearly Ian’s closest friend in the band, strains from the repetition of his obvious regret over the loss of a friend. It’s exploitative. What’s more, it’s an insult to everything this band has since achieved, that they are still being wheeled out to give their account of their part in the cult of Ian Curtis and his death.
My cynicism might stem from being an observer, and devout fan, of both bands over the years. It’s painful to watch music phenomena dismantled, reconstructed and commodified over the years, until all that’s left is the T-shirt and the bargain bin Best Of collection. New Order has thus far survived this fate, but not so the band of their lost colleague. This film claims to be part of the solution to that process – indeed, there is a strong critique of the tendency of the music industry to eat its own – but it is in fact part of the problem. This is not to say it wasn’t a fascinating insight into the band and the era (for those who haven’t heard the story told a thousand different times before – the car trip where Ian first has a seizure, the morbid fascination with dead rock stars, the affair with Annik Honore etc.). It’s just that I, personally, did not need the legend of the person dissected, at the expense of the music itself.
As one of the films more pretentious commentators rightly puts it at the end of the film – ‘Unknown Pleasures and Closer were the works – everything else is merchandising’. He’s got it in one about this film.
*Re this book, I have many thoughts to share about it, for those that are interested.
Okay all you simpering 2008-minted Joy Division fans – let’s have it out here. New Order was a far superior and more influential band than Joy Division ever were, but many of you will never be exposed to that brilliance except through films about their former incarnation. And that is a damn shame.
It is an unedifying experience indeed to watch this great band, billed as the ‘surviving members of Joy Division’, telling Ian’s sad tale for the 100th time in 20 years. And why? Because, unlike their friend and his beautiful corpse, they have lived to be scraggy old dads. Therefore, goes the rock myth, their story – 20 million sales, ten studio albums and an entire generation notwithstanding – does not have the cachet of the dead rock star. It is a story that, like the rock macabre of Altamont, Brian Jones and Sid Vicious before it, and GG Allin after, is more emo than rock, and needs to be laid to rest.
It is nothing short of painful to watch Hooky call upon every last reserve of (not substantial) acting talent to tell us he wished he’d seen Ian’s body – at the time (aged 22) he reckons he’d rather have been at the pub. It is cringeworthy to see the aimiable Stephen Morris, a mere bairn at the time of Ian’s death, who has lived his entire adult life as a member of New Order, recall something that happened so long ago it is barely part of his life story any more. Even Barny, clearly Ian’s closest friend in the band, strains from the repetition of his obvious regret over the loss of a friend. It’s exploitative. What’s more, it’s an insult to everything this band has since achieved, that they are still being wheeled out to give their account of their part in the cult of Ian Curtis and his death.
My cynicism might stem from being an observer, and devout fan, of both bands over the years. It’s painful to watch music phenomena dismantled, reconstructed and commodified over the years, until all that’s left is the T-shirt and the bargain bin Best Of collection. New Order has thus far survived this fate, but not so the band of their lost colleague. This film claims to be part of the solution to that process – indeed, there is a strong critique of the tendency of the music industry to eat its own – but it is in fact part of the problem. This is not to say it wasn’t a fascinating insight into the band and the era (for those who haven’t heard the story told a thousand different times before – the car trip where Ian first has a seizure, the morbid fascination with dead rock stars, the affair with Annik Honore etc.). It’s just that I, personally, did not need the legend of the person dissected, at the expense of the music itself.
As one of the films more pretentious commentators rightly puts it at the end of the film – ‘Unknown Pleasures and Closer were the works – everything else is merchandising’. He’s got it in one about this film.
*Re this book, I have many thoughts to share about it, for those that are interested.
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