Joy Division - The Documentary

Yesterday's quatrain was brought to my attention through the excellent documentary by Britain's finest documentarian, Grant Gee. He's infamous on this blog for his integral hand in the Radiohead documentary, Meeting People Is Easy, possibly the most ambitious film project I've ever seen, and for his recent account of the music and times of Scott Walker, that enigma of sound who inspires such greats as Radiohead themselves, in 30th Century Man. The latter follows the structure of a more generic documentary, talking heads and the like, which similarly forms the basis for Joy Division, recounting the rise and relapse of the band from Manchester that culminated in the tragic suicide of their epilepsy-ridden frontman, Ian Curtis.

His widow, Deborah Curtis wrote a memoir entitled, Touching From A Distance, which retells the story of their shaky and impromptu marriage that became a significant, destabilizing feature in Curtis' life. Unfortunately, Deborah declined any involvement in Gee's project, presumably for the active resentment she must still harbour for Curtis' love interest, Annik Honore (who does appear in the documentary), who unintentionally became extraordinarily divisive in Curtis' life. Annik, a sophisticated French journalist and promoter, was more than just an awe-beguiled groupie; it's clear that Curtis was deeply reciprocal in her love. Indeed, it was only she who warned the other members of the band that Ian's lyrics were deeply melancholic and sad, and importantly, deeply personal; only after Curtis' suicide did the other people involved in his life take the time to study and reflect upon his lyrics.

The documentary itself is highly emotionally charged, relying solely upon the memories of the people around Curtis at the time to recollect the events. Whilst Deborah Curtis struggled to bring up Ian's son in Salford, Joy Division became something the band members could never have foreseen.

In the creative film adaptation of Ian Curtis' life, Control, also released in 2007, the screenwriters struggled to capture the visceral disconnection that Curtis felt for his wife, and the pains it brought him to covert Annik. We now know that Curtis was obviously a manic-depressive, alternating between two states. Throughout his life you can witness these forms of division, from his clear intellect to his narrow minded naivety, from his aggressively outward stage persona to his penetrating introspection. His diagnosis of epilepsy polarized his psychology yet further by demanding a rigid discipline be applied to his daily life. It's equally clear that he was in love with both Deborah and Annik, and it was this dialectic that he found so heart-wrenching, leading to his first suicide attempt, and to his untimely death on May 18th 1980.

And so, I bring you a further recommendation, dear reader, although the word 'recommendation' sounds too mild. I press you to watch Gee's piece; it's masterful. I leave you with lyrics taken from the song that became Curtis' epitaph, Love Will Tear US Apart:

Why is the bedroom so cold?
Turned away on your side.
Is my timing that flawed?
Our respect run so dry?
Yet there's still this appeal
That we've kept through our lives.
Love.
Love will tear us apart, again.