Ian Curtis cemented his name in musical history the night he hung himself in the laundry. As the lead singer of Joy Division, his voice spoke to a new generation in ways that few have done before or since. An unremarkable, slightly discordant sound, Curtis imbued his songs with heartfelt suffering he so clearly felt, and his audiences clearly related to. Depression was a constant companion that the love of family, friends, fans or the worldwide acclaim could not overcome. When he topped himself, Curtis joined a pantheon of artists including James Dean, Jim Morrissey and River Phoenix whose early demise secured their place among revered, wasted youth. Herein the dominant theme of Corbijin’s extraordinary film that traces the life of an unwilling star who became a legend: how does anyone keep control?

Another pallid English kid of the 1970s, Curtis grew up devoted to David Bowie in a dreary northern town. His friends had a band but no vocalist, he had a voice twinned with despair. It was a perfect match soon foisted upon renowned producer Tony Wilson (celebrated in Winterbottom’s 24 Hour Party People) who would take their success across the world. Yet sex, drugs and synthesisers are not Corbijin’s focus, although the film contains plenty of each. He is more concerned about understanding how a man who gets to live the dream can simply toss it aside. How unfailing love can ultimately fail. This is an everyman story coloured by a splash of celebrity colour.

As with all biopics, Control swings on the power of its lead actor. And with such an idiosyncratic character as Curtis, a lot rides on Riley’s performance. He swiftly and elegantly commands the troubled, shy youngster in an opener that establishes the film’s unique tone. He then proceeds to hammer it home with a presence that oscillates seamlessly between rock star and lost boy. This is less an act, more an embodiment of Curtis with Riley delivering a gripping, emotionally wrought performance. It is painfully beautiful to watch, as is Morton who adds another distinguished note of suffering as his loving, anguished wife. Her stoic determination kept Curtis anchored to one world while the band’s success and his subsequent affair with a French model pulled him toward another. Unable to reconcile the two, crippling depression and bouts of epilepsy led to an inevitable end. Ian Curtis lost control aged 23.

// COLIN FRASER