The story of Ian Curtis - singer in Joy Division - has been mythologized to the point of romanticism. Like many a dead rock star - Cobain, Hendrix, or Morrison - Its a simple rags to riches story sparkled with an exceptional talent and an exceptional tragedy. its one of teenage love, rock stardom, and the greyness of 70s tower blocks and punk rock; only in a peculiarly British way. Find that girl in your small hometown, settle down, get a job, get a house, have a baby, and somewhere along the way, find yourself a rock n' roll star.

Control is the second film to tell this story; However, the first - 2002's 24 Hour Party People - concentrated on the story of Tony Wilson, the manchester entrepeneur who discovered the band, which is really like watching a film about the Beatles from the perspective of Brian Epstein rather than John Lennon. For Control, Ian Curtis is central, pivotal figure; and whilst vast swathes of this story are familiar from the first half of 24 Hour Party People, Control is a more measured, more heartbreaking, much more staid experience. Whilst 24 Hour Party People was played a self-referential biopic, Control is a cold, grim, unrelenting piece of work - difficult to love, easy to admire, and unflinching in its portrayal.

Anyone who remembers growing up the seventies and eighties will recognise the world of Control. Highrise tower blocks, bungalows in council estates, terraced houses, rotary phones, the crackle of vinyl as the turntable spins, pastel coloured cars, and naff wallpaper. With the fledging love of his teenage sweetheart Debbie, their eager marriage and their daughter, Ian finds himself a job with the local employment exchange and settles down. But his love of Bowie and Poetry never goes away, and a couple of friends ask him to join their band. A record deal, TV appearances, albums and tours follow. Joy Division - the band - become the next big thing in the music press. The Front Cover of the NME, the criticial acclaim. The touring begins. New friends are met. Some are more than friends, as he finds himself torn between his wife, his home, his daughter and the life he has made for himself ..... and the life of the man on the road, flattered with female attention as he plays away from home - on stage and behind his wife's back. And complicated with that, is the medication for his epilepsy. The tablets he takes, to stop him losing control. Thats what it comes down to. Control.

As the pressures of the band, the touring and the two duplicitous lives he is leading all bear down, it leads to an ending you hope never comes to pass. A man torn apart by love, commitment, and an obligation he can never possibly hope to fulfil; there's one particularly haunting scene on the staircase at home, where he tells his wife he loves her - but love is not what he means. I love the fact you saved me, you protect me, he means. thank you, he means.

With Ian Curtis played by Sam Riley in a memorable stand out performance, its one that is much more so than the acclaimed Samantha Morton, whose portrayal of his wife Debbie is a bedrock upon which the rest of his life falls apart, but is little more dependable and staid. Along with a cinema verite style approach (the greyness of the era is enchanced by the monotone of the black and white film), Control is by no means an enjoyable watch. With moments of very occasional humour, it encapsulates the bleak era of the 70's almost perfectly ; If we'd never had it so good, why the hell was it so bad? Dutch photographer Anton Corbijn - whose work with Joy Division encapsulates the band itself - is the perfect choice to direct this biopic, having been an ardent fan of the band and also working with the band during their band's career, such is his first hand knowledge of the subject. But this is no hagiography - this is more of a psuedo-documentary than a film is its air of realism rather than a mere fan flick.

It is easy to mistake Control for being a film about music. Its not; the music is incidental here. Music was what he did, not what he was. Its about the person, his failings, his insecurities. And it does so in a nakedly honest, unflinching, brutal way. For all the mythology and nostalgia, he was no saint. He was no hero. He was a man, sometimes not a very good man, and this is an often unflattering portrait of a troubled life.Stark, bleak, and with a final scene that is saddeningly tragic, Control strips behind the myth and hits home to a deeply flawed, fractured personality.

Control is best described as endured rather than enjoyed. Its a measured, controlled, fractious postcard from a past long gone, and also the portrait of someone on the edge of collapse. Beautifully and artfully shot, Control is a film which should be seen if you can. Good, not great, worthy but not deliberately so, Control is a powerful and  affecting debut from Anton Corbijn. If he stopped making Promo videos for rubbish bands and instead concentrated on feature films, he could well inherit the mantle of someone like Bergman. Much like David Fincher and his transfer from pop promo's to feature films, there's a lot of potential and he could well be on the edge of doing great things. Bearing that in mind, there's always the new Mashing Flumpkins promo to shoot....and mores the pity. Because Control shows more potential than most films ever dream of. Are you listening to me, Brett Ratner?

 Didn't think so..