A biography of Joy Division's Ian Curtis based on a book by Curtis' wife Debbie, Control tracks the tormented singer's life from his late high school years, through his improbably early marriage, through the founding of the band, their rise to fame, his long standing affair with a Belgian diplomat, his late onset epilepsy, and -- finally -- to his death by suicide at age twenty three.

The subject matter of the film is well familiar to any child of the time as Joy Division's influence loomed huge throughout the eighties, not least of which through the massive success of the band that rose from it's ashes -- the surviving members founding New Order following Curtis' passing. As history there's really nothing new here, there are no sudden revelations to come by, but the film excels as a simple, heartfelt portrait of the man himself.

Corbijn reins his trademark sense of style way, way back. The film is a quiet, subtle affair that resists all urges to name drop or dip into nostalgia. Yes, the soundtrack kicks ass and, yes, we see the band in action at several key moments in their career but Corbijn always plays things straight, shooting in beautiful black and white with an almost verite style camera. This is no rock doc, the focus remains on Curtis as a man rather than Curtis as a star, his emotional story told via his relationship with the two key women in his life rather than his music. In fact, it quickly becomes clear that Curtis' writings were dominated early on by his feelings for Debbie and Annik and his overwhelming sense of guilt, shame and helplessness in the face of an affair he couldn't find the strength or desire to end.

The film is kept centered on two key fronts. First, there is the cast. Though Samantha Morton is the only recognizable face in the cast -- at least to North American eyes, there may well be some faces more familiar in the UK tucked away in there -- the entire cast is remarkably strong, every one of them bringing admirable depth and humanity to roles that it would have been simple to play as types rather than real people. And second is Corbijn's remarkable dedication to neither demonizing nor mythologizing Curtis himself, neither apologizing for nor glossing over the man's own failings.

Given the nature of Curtis' muse it seems somehow appropriate that a film about his life is one of the quietest, most introverted rock films to hit the screen. It's a fitting representation of the man and his work and sometimes it's just good to be surprised by people doing things right.