"Control" Tops? Not Exactly.

I went to the New York premiere of the movie "Control" last night. It's a biopic about Ian Curtis, the lead singer of Joy Division who ended up hanging himself. The place was absolutely jammed with paparazzi, and flashbulbs were popping by the millions, which confused me. How many newspapers want pictures of Helena Christiansen? Is there a huge demand somewhere for photos of a disheveled Harvey Weinstein?

I really wanted to like the movie. It looked absolutely gorgeous, in artsy black and white. But it desperately wanted to be one of those "Angry Young Men" British films from the 60s by folks like John Schlesinger, and unfortunately the story fell short. I'm not sure it's possible to make an interesting story about a boring, depressed young man, even if he wrote great songs.

Its main fault, though, was that it suffered from Documentaritis: you know, where ordinary people feel compelled to say things nobody really talks about. I still remember them from history class in junior high:

MAN: Well, if this isn't PHILADELPHIA in 1742! THOMAS JEFFERSON, how go your efforts to form a CONTINENTAL CONGRESS?

That's how the dialogue is in "Control."

IAN: You're my very first girlfriend, DEBBIE CLEVELAND, and I'd like to marry you.

DEBBIE: Gosh, okay! I never knew life could be so grand in dreary MACCLESFIELD, ENGLAND!

IAN: Let's go to the pub and celebrate. Look -- there are my old school chums who formed a band. Hi BERNARD, STEPHEN, PETER! How's the band going?

BERNARD (sullenly): Not so good. We need a lead singer.

IAN: I can sing! And I write poetry, when I'm not listening to Bowie shirtless on my bed and daydreaming.

STEPHEN: Well, then, IAN CURTIS, welcome to the band! Hooray!

PETER: Look! There's TERRY WILSON, the influential TV host. TERRY, you have to put our band WARSAW on television!

TERRY: Sure! In fact, I'll even sign you to my label, FACTORY RECORDS. Let's head to the studio now to record an EP, though they won't be invented for another fifteen years.

RECORDING ENGINEER: That new song TRANSMISSION is a classic! What's the name of your band, anyway?

IAN: I just changed it to JOY DIVISION. That's a reference to the enforced prostitution of women in World War II prison camps.

RECORDING ENGINEER: Oh. Okay!

But here's the real problem with the movie: it's long and slow and boring. And since we all know the ending, we start hoping it'll get there soon. Ian seems very sweet and awfully sad but we just can't help ourselves. He plays with a piece of string and we cross our fingers. "Go for it!" we silently urge. "Choke yourself!" When he heads for the bathroom we boo. "No! Not the medicine chest -- the closet!" And then it happens: we see the clothes line stretch then hear a thump as something heavy falls.

He did it! we think. He finally did it! I'll be in the bathroom in two minutes, and eating pizza in ten. Then the camera cuts back: he's safe in his bedroom. It was just a daydream.

God damn it. C'mon, buddy -- step up to the plate!

Finally he does it. We don't know why, so we don't care. The rest of Joy Division are left sitting around, distraught, and we expect a journalist to walk in:

JOURNALIST: Tough break, BERNARD. This is certainly a sad day in MAY OF 1980.

BERNARD: Horrible. Absolutely miserable. The end of the OLD ORDER. Really a BLUE MONDAY, eh?