The Screengrab : control

Screengrab's Favorite Movies About Music: Non-Fiction Edition (Part Three)

Andrew Osborne — Thu, 12 Mar 2009 21:00:00 GMT

Lauren Wissot's Favorite:

JOY DIVISION (2007)

My first boyfriend when I came to NYC, the lead singer of a local goth band, introduced me to Joy Division – not the band itself, and not the music, since I was already a goth and well-aware of their songs – but the phenomenon. I was a big sound Sisters of Mercy chick who didn’t quite get it, a fan of over-the-top goth like Bauhaus, and the catchy dance beat of the band Joy Division evolved into, New Order. Joy Division itself was more like those minimalist 4AD bands – goth lite. The boyfriend was long out of my life by the time I realized my mistake. You can’t just listen to Joy Division – you have to absorb their aura. Now thanks to Grant Gee’s documentary Joy Division (written by punk rock’s tireless chronicler Jon Savage), which Surround Sounds the story of the band with the feel of Manchester through a collage of images, I understand why this is. The British director, by placing himself in the environment that birthed Joy Division, soaks in the band’s essence. This is something that Anton Corbijn, a Dutch photographer and cinematographer who shot the infamous video for “Atmosphere” (and appears in Gee’s doc), and tread the same material in his biopic Control, completely lost amidst his lush, gorgeous and painfully stark imagery. Corbijn’s certainly got more artistic talent than Gee, but less of an understanding of the band he knew as a young photojournalist. There’s just less substance in Control. (For further details on that film read my review at The House Next Door.)

By combining documentary footage from gigs, talking head interviews, shots of Manchester from the era juxtaposed with present-day imagery, archival materials from notebooks to newspapers, words flashing across the screen, even quotes from Deborah Curtis’ book Touching from a Distance, Gee exhaustively sifts through information like a detective, teasing out clues to the soul of the band and its lead singer Ian Curtis who hung himself right before the scheduled American tour. The actual songs of Joy Division (and its prior incarnation Warsaw) drift in and out, hover above the movie, mirroring the spiritual aspect of the band – the total understanding of which remains elusive, forever out of reach of mortal comprehension. Gee seems to be digging madly, touching from a distance, getting as close as humanly possible. This is admirable filmmaking, full of heart and soul.

For Joy Division was Manchester’s soundscape, one of the shining lights of the punk rock renaissance that emerged from post-war no-man’s land. Talking heads from journalists to music producers describe the bands gigs as shamanistic experiences; surviving members Bernard Sumner and Peter Hook, who went on to form New Order, repeat sentiments of everything just coming together as if preordained. They just “knew” from the very moment they christened their ensemble after the supposed Nazi sex slave barracks. Joy Division evolved from an inexplicable visionary artistry more than from anything else, synthesizing goth and punk and anticipating rave.

And there was no better prophet than Ian Curtis, the tall and lanky, translucent-eyed lead singer whose herky-jerky, puppet-on-a-string dance movements resembled an epileptic fit – and this was before he’d had his first seizure, though his diagnosis with epilepsy occurred soon after he wrote “She’s Lost Control,” inspired by an epileptic girl he had helped at his social services day job, and who later died of an epileptic fit. Preordained. The irony that epilepsy is a disease in which the sufferer seems “possessed,” and that Curtis was always possessed when he went onstage is not lost on anyone, most of all not on his Belgian journalist mistress Annik Honore.

“Ian was pulled into a trance” when performing, Honore explains. Like he was “plugged into a huge electrical voltage” is how artist Genesis P-Orridge describes Curtis, while another scenester offers the analogy of a “performance artist who cuts and bleeds.” This is some heavy shit, the weight of which can be heard in Joy Division’s complicated, densely layered sound, which can be navigated only through Curtis’ deep vocals. From the band members and their d.j. manager Rob Gretton, to the producers and the venue owners, to the journalists and audiences – Joy Division was always more than the sum of its parts, the rallying call of renewal for Manchester, a city whose sewer system was in the midst of collapse, whose children were raised on the concrete streets (Peter Hook reminisces that he’d never even seen a tree until he was about nine). By narrowing the focus solely to Curtis and the band in Control, Corbijn misses Joy Division by a mile.

But by interviewing all the players, knowing precisely which questions to ask, Gee hits the heart. What Corbijn didn’t understand is that Joy Division were intertwined not with a random, industrial post-war city but with a living, breathing, specific Manchester. His sensual kitchen sink imagery in Control is beautiful to look at but as empty as those abandoned housing projects. Joy Division was the flower blossoming through the crack in the sidewalk, reflected in everything from those stark album covers to Curtis’ love of Burroughs and his evocations of industrial wastelands (both real and of the mind). In Joy Division, a member even notes that the band expanded punk by declaring that it’s important to say, “fuck you” – but then you need to move beyond and say more (though I’d argue it was The Clash at the forefront of this movement). This too was lost on Corbijn. You can’t capture a poet like Curtis in a biopic if you focus directly on the poet, as he’ll forever elude you – just like you don’t look directly at a solar eclipse, but at that in which it is reflected. Gee doesn’t take Corbijn’s literal direct approach but focuses on the margins surrounding the band, where Joy Division is being reflected, which is a brilliant idea.

Which also mirrors the brilliance of Joy Division’s approach to music. In his lyrics Curtis always referenced the great authors he devoured like Dostoevsky and Kafka so the songs could work on several levels, from the intellectual to the populist. If you want to be enlightened to grand ideas, Joy Division’s your band. If you want to dance to kick-ass raw energy in the form of a tune, listen no further than Joy Division. Towards the end of his life the singer felt the songs were writing themselves, Honore discloses. It was almost as if his artist’s soul was consuming his physical body. Everything was fated, from Curtis’ start as a social services worker (absorbing everyone else’s pain along with his own – including the wife and baby and the girlfriend on the side – is it any wonder “Love Will Tear Us Apart” was such a hit?) to the last album “Closer.” His lyrics read like a bible of his life.

And it’s this “bible” that still haunts the remaining members. How could they not have foreseen Curtis’ suicide? Why didn’t they try to save him? More than a quarter century on it’s near impossible for Gee to get his subjects to open up, all still struggling with the road not taken. So it’s eloquent that he concludes Joy Division on a note of legacy rather than on one of regret, poignantly overlaying images of New Order’s Sumner performing a Joy Division tune alternated with images of Curtis interpreting the same song. It just makes gorgeous sense, including the idea of what a producer describes as the “merchandizing of memory” since Joy Division subsequently became bigger than its actual small output, larger than the sum of its parts. Towards the end of the film when New Order’s music segues into “Atmosphere” over images of modern day Manchester the result is spine-tingling – Curtis’ embodiment of beauty from waste, daisies from pavement, art from pain must be carried on! Joy Division was bigger than one man, even bigger than its rise and fall and rebirth as New Order, paralleling Manchester’s own path. No, Gee might not have Corbijn’s visual chops, but then substance is always more than the sum of visible tangible parts.

Click Here For Part One, Two, Four, Five, Six & Seven

Contributor: Lauren Wissot

DVD Digest for June 3, 2008

Paul Clark — Tue, 03 Jun 2008 14:00:00 GMT

With Father’s Day coming in less than two weeks, the studios begin to unveil their snazzy new editions of what TNT used to call “movies for guys who like movies.” We’ve got all the manly movies you need to keep dad happy while mom and her friends are out seeing the Sex and the City movie (seriously, how did we not see that coming?).

Before Clint Eastwood became known as an Academy Award-winning filmmaker (or a guy who co-starred with an orangutan) he was first and foremost a grimacing badass. And while some- including yours truly- have a soft spot for his Man With No Name trilogy- the most enduring character from this period would also certainly be “Dirty” Harry Callahan. This week, Warner unveils new DVD and Blu-Ray editions of all five of Eastwood’s Dirty Harry films, featuring all of the features from previous DVD editions plus a number of new ones. Most notably, Warner Brothers’ box set (the films are also sold separately) includes a new feature-length documentary, Clint Eastwood: Out of the Shadows. In addition, the memorabilia included in the box set includes a 40-page hardcover book and a map of San Francisco detailing Harry’s hunt for Scorpio.

But if dad’s looking for wartime heroism (Blu-Ray only), MGM and Fox both have something that’ll fit the bill. MGM will unveil Blu-Ray editions of A Bridge Too Far and Battle of Britain this week, although these new discs will contain no special features. So if it’s tricked out Blu-Rays (and better movies) you want, go with Fox’s war DVDs. The studio will be releasing three of its classics- Patton, The Longest Day and The Sand Pebbles- exclusively on Blu-Ray, packed with special features and all the bells and whistles he could ever hope for.

But that’s not all, folks. If dad wants some laughs with his testosterone, buy him the new City Slickers: Collector’s Edition (MGM), which gives him some Western action, male bonding humor courtesy of Crystal, Kirby and Stern, and of course Jack Palance, who even in death can still crap bigger than you. Other, more recent dudely comedies releasing this week include Semi-Pro (New Line, also Blu-Ray), Vince Vaughn’s Wild West Comedy Show (Lionsgate), and for the father whose enjoyment of movies far outweighs his taste, Meet the Spartans (Fox, also Blu-Ray). And what’s a list of guy movies with James Bond? Sony will release a new three-disc edition of Casino Royale, Bond’s best big-screen adventure since the sixties (there, I said it).

Other new releases this week include: Anton Corbijn’s Ian Curtis biopic Control (Weinstein Company); the Jessica Alba remake of The Eye (Lionsgate, also Blu-Ray); Michael Caine and Demi Moore in Flawless (Magnolia); the long-delayed The Onion Movie (Fox); and Asia Argento just the way we like her (i.e. mostly naked and toting a gun) in Olivier Assayas’ Boarding Gate (Magnolia). The week’s most notable non-guy-movie old-school release is Jean-Jacques Beineix’s seminal Cinema du look classic Diva (Lionsgate). Finally, releasing on Blu-Ray only: Cloverfield (Paramount), Signs (Buena Vista), The Recruit (Buena Vista), There Will Be Blood (Paramount).

Cannes 2008: Meet the Jury!

Paul Clark — Thu, 24 Apr 2008 15:00:00 GMT

Yesterday, The Screengrab was the 152nd blog on the web to post the Competition slate for next month's Cannes Film Festival. But before you start predicting the winners sight unseen, we suggest you get to know the members of the Competition jury. That way you'll know whose names to curse when your favorite filmmaker gets smoked by some little-known furriner whose name you can't pronounce.

This year's Cannes Competition Jury:

Sean Penn (Jury President) is a filmmaker of some note, directing four films since his 1990 debut, The Indian Runner. His most recent film is the memorably Oscar-snubbed Into the Wild. When not behind the camera, Penn is also known for his political and charitable work, which has taken him to Iran and to the post-Katrina New Orleans. Penn has also been known to act on occasion.

Sergio Castellitto has appeared in several films in Competition, including 2001's Va Savoir and 2002's The Religion Hour (My Mother's Smile). Once referred to by Screengrab favorite Mike D'Angelo as "maybe the most underrated thesp alive," he also starred in the popular Mostly Martha, better known as No Reservations, Except Good. Castellitto has also directed two features, including the 2004 film Don't Move, in which he exercised his director's clout in order to give himself several love scenes with Penelope Cruz.

Natalie Hershlag, alternately known as Natalie Portman, made her big-screen debut at age 13 in Luc Besson's The Professional, sometimes referred to as Léon by various talkbackers on Ain't It Cool News. Since that time, she has become one of the most sought-after actresses of her generation, particularly among horny fanboys who despair that she will never get completely naked onscreen. Hershlag is set to make her directorial debut in this year's omnibus film New York, I Love You, where her short film will appear alongside new works by such acclaimed filmmakers as Brett Ratner and Scarlett Johansson. She also wants you to know that the Shins will totally change your life.

Alfonso Cuaron first gained international critical attention with his 1995 film A Little Princess, and subsequent films like Y Tu Mama Tambien and Children of Men have proven him a formidable talent (he also allegedly made a low-budget adaptation of a little-known English fantasy novel, but no one knows what became of this). In 2006, his high-profile friendship with fellow Mexican filmmakers Guillermo Del Toro and Alejandro Gonzalez Iñarritu let to the trio briefly becoming known as "The Three Amigos" for several months before they were sued by Chevy Chase, Martin Short and Steve Martin.

Apichatpong Weerasethakul has such a long name that I run the risk of hitting my character limit simply by typing it. Luckily for me, he prefers to simply be called "Joe." Joe has garnered widespread critical acclaim for his whimsical, magical-realist films, which include Mysterious Object at Noon, Blissfully Yours, and Syndromes and a Century. His 2004 film Tropical Malady won the Jury Prize at Cannes, and Roger Ebert called the film "a meditation on portentous but incoherent themes." By which we're guessing he meant "awesome."

Alexandra Maria Lara, a ravishing Romanian who moved to Germany at age 4, made her movie debut at 16. However, the role that brought her international acclaim came in 2004's Downfall, in which she portrayed Hitler's personal secretary Traudl Junge. Since then, she costarred in Francis Ford Coppola's Youth Without Youth and in last year's Ian Curtis biopic Control, where she met current boyfriend Sam Riley (isn't that cute?). Lara will next appear in Stephen Daldry's The Reader, as well as taking a supporting role in Spike Lee's WWII drama Miracle at St. Anna, a role you won't find out about by looking her up on IMDb.

Rachid Bouchareb is a French director-producer who last appeared at Cannes with his 2006 drama Days of Glory. In addition to his own films, he has also produced the work of numerous other filmmakers, including all four features to date by Bruno Dumont. Sorry, I have nothing humorous to say about this guy.

So there you have it. Seven jury members, down from nine last year. How will they vote? Will Penn insist on a political bent, or at least something appeals to his artier side? Will Cuaron stump for his fellow Latin Americans? Which Bouchareb will show up- the one who directed the rousing WW2 or the guy who produces Bruno Dumont movies? Will Joe gravitate to fellow talking-primate lover Charlie Kaufman? Will the paparazzi devote most of their attention to Portman and Lara (yes, they will)? Let the blind prognosticating commence in 5, 4, 3...

Oscar Nominations: Is the Egg Showin'?

Paul Clark — Wed, 23 Jan 2008 16:00:00 GMT

So. . . what was it William Goldman said again? I suppose my predictions weren't too bad under the circumstances, but just like every other year, the Oscar nominations held plenty of surprises.

A full list of nominations can be found right here.

In no particular order:

- The almost total lack of love for Into the Wild. I figured that the acclaim for this true-life story, and the presence of Sean Penn — an actor they clearly love — in the director's chair, would make the film Academy catnip. Clearly, I was mistaken.

- On the other hand, they loved There Will Be Blood even more than I'd anticipated, looking past its darkness to see how flat-out brilliant it is (sorry, haters), giving PTA not only best director and adapted screenplay, but a best picture nomination as well. The Jonny Greenwood thing stung a bit, but the other technical nods — art direction, cinematography, sound design and editing — compensate pretty well. And Daniel Day-Lewis is looking pretty unstoppable for best actor at this point. All in all, Blood received eight nominations, tying it for the most-honored film with widely-acknowledged frontrunner No Country for Old Men.

- Atonement. Wait, this movie's chances for best picture were supposed to be more or less dead. Don't the voters read the prognosticators? Still, despite the film's considerable pedigree and handsome production values, Joe Wright was shut out of best director (in favor of Ivan Reitman's kid, no less), which leads me to believe this barely squeaked in. But you never know.

- Show of hands: who saw the best actor nod for Tommy Lee Jones coming? Certainly not me. I figured that he had a good chance for his supporting work in No Country for Old Men, but I'm surprised any of the voters actually remembered In the Valley of Elah. But I won't complain. As an avowed Crash hater, nobody was more surprised than me that Elah turned out to be pretty darn good, due in large part to Jones' great performance. I'll certainly take him over, say, John Travolta in a fat suit.

- The double dip for Cate Blanchett. Yes, she was a deserving nominee for playing the most fondly-remembered of Todd Haynes' menagerie of Dylans. But honoring Elizabeth: The Golden Age tells me that the voters ran out of suitable nominees. Lord knows I'm no fan of Angelina Jolie, but at least she tried to give a multilayered performance in A Mighty Heart, which is more than I can say about Blanchett in Nobody But Elizabeth Expects the Spanish Inquisition. Just. . . ugh.

- When I floated my best supporting actress theory — that in recent years, the great majority of nominees in this category appear in films opposite performers who also get nominated — I wasn't just blowing smoke. Seriously, look it up. But, probably just to confound me, the nominations bucked the trend this year, with only one of the nominees (Michael Clayton's Tilda Swinton) appearing opposite another Oscar nominees. Just as unexpectedly, only Clayton managed more than one acting nomination, wrangling three for Swinton, George Clooney, and Tom Wilkinson.

- Three out of five Best Original Song nominations went to Enchanted. Either they really love Alan Menken and Stephen Schwartz or it was a really slow year for original songs. Probably both. At least they were smart enough to nominate "Falling Slowly."

- Hey, did you know that people made documentaries this year that didn't deal with the war in Iraq? I only ask because three of the five Best Documentary Feature nominees were Iraq-themed, with only Michael Moore's Sicko and the Uganda-themed War/Dance tackling different subjects. The biggest disappointment is the snubbing of Tony Kaye's exhaustive, empathetic abortion documentary Lake of Fire, by my estimation the year's finest non-fiction film.

- Finally, I leave you with four horrifying words: "Academy Award Nominee Norbit." Sure, it's for best makeup, and considering that the makeup branch loves the hell out of Rick Baker it would've been madness NOT to predict him. But think about it: Norbit, possibly the most reviled film of 2007, received more Oscar nominations than Zodiac, Before the Devil Knows You're Dead, Knocked Up, 4 Months, 3 Weeks, and 2 Days, and Control. . . COMBINED. Hard to believe, but the makeup branch has actually managed to outdo last year's Click nomination.

Top Ten of 2007: Phil Nugent

Phil Nugent — Fri, 04 Jan 2008 21:00:00 GMT

1. There Will Be Blood, directed and written by Paul Thomas Anderson

A triumph of personal filmmaking, epic scale division, and an excellent argument that anyone who nominates anyone whose initials aren't D.D.-L. for the title of greatest living movie actor is a fool.

2. Killer of Sheep, directed and written by Charles Burnett

A triumph of personal filmmaking, garage-inventor division, and worth the thirty years' wait.

3. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, directed by Julian Schnabel, written by Ronald Harwood, from the book by Jean-Dominique Bauby

Set almost entirely behind the eyes of a paralyzed stroke victim, it is in just about every way the most adventurous movie in recent memory, Schnabel’s visual imagination, which is kinetic yet lyrical and charged with feeling, has somehow enabled him to make a movie that is a celebration of the pleasures (and a lament for the lost possibilities) of a life cut short that never feels bathetic.

4. The Host, directed by Bong Joon-ho, written by Baek Chul-hyun and Bong Joon-ho

Big rubber monsters and real blood. In his previous film, the police procedural Memories of Murder, Bong demonstrated a special talent for treating genre conventions with satirical irony in a way that only heightened the story’s emotional impact. With its rude shocks, horse laughs, family of unlikely heroes and absolute lack of faith in the official protectors of society, his twist on the rampaging-mutant horror movie may be more fun than anything else seen this year.

5. Once, directed and written by John Carney

This small love story — Before Sunrise as a Dublin-set pop musical — is also the suspense film of the year: the first time you watch it, a part of you is on the edge of your seat, waiting for the inevitable wrong step that never comes. As perfect and buoyant as a soap bubble glistening in the sunlight.

6. Away from Her, directed and written by Sarah Polley, from a story by Alice Munro

As an actress, Polley has had the hint of something wise-beyond-her-time going on behind those heavy lids since before she was ten. Her directoral debut, about a marriage of some forty years’ duration that’s finally torn asunder by the wife’s struggle with Alzheimer’s, is an uncommonly mature romantic drama, and in many ways an uncommonly hard, clear-eyed one. Julie Christie’s mere presence as the unreadable, coquettish old woman lends the movie some star power, but Gordon Pinsent and Olympia Dukakis give risk-taking performances that keep the film raw and alive.

7. Ratatouille, directed by Brad Bird and Jan Pinkava, written by Brad Bird.

An exhilarating triumph of sheer craft from the director of The Iron Giant and The Incredibles, and a major return to form for Pixar after the sugared gas tank of Cars.

8. Control, directed by Anton Corbijn, written by Matt Greenhalgh and Deborah Curtis

An uncommonly solid, beautiful-looking rock-star biopic, with relative newcomer Sam Riley giving a bracingly unsentimental yet thoroughly winning performance as Ian Curtis of Joy Division. (In one of his few previous movie roles, Riley turned up briefly in 24 Hour Party People, playing Mark E. Smith of the Fall.) With its black and white cinematography (by Martin Ruhe and John Watson), its confident grasp of the period and its milieu, and its surprising bursts of humor, this is one of the rare films that threaten to give music video directors-turned-moviemakers a good name.

9. Knocked Up, directed and written by Judd Apatow

There are nits you could pick, but here’s what makes them all seem ridiculous: more quotable, genuinely funny lines and inspired, perfectly shaped jokes per square inch than in any movie since the last time somebody produced a script by — hell, I don’t know, John Guare, maybe? Alan Bennett? Ben Hecht!?

10. Year of the Dog, directed and written by Mike White

This is the first time that White has directed one of his own screenplays, and the results are confident and exciting enough in their strangeness to make one suspect that some of the earlier movies he wrote seemed shifty and half-baked because the directors weren’t as eager to turn convention on its head as White meant for them to. Molly Shannon is amazing as the frustrated, lonely spinster-in-the-making whose attempt to change her life is dotted with missteps and false starts but ends in triumph — triumph for her, at least, whether her friends (or the audience) can see it that way or not.

Year-End List Preview

Peter Smith — Mon, 10 Dec 2007 21:00:00 GMT

We're going to be up to our noses in year-end lists soon, and you can either run and hide or go into training. By asking five critics to each name a high point, a low point, and a "surprise" from the past year, the Guardian has neatly offered what amounts to a quick, anticipatory cracking of the knuckles before everyone heads over to the main track. It's nice to see some love for the beautiful Ian Curtis biopic Control and, for some of us, reassuring to see some doubts surface about the greatness of The Lives of Others, the German film that may just have been the first wildly overrated big release of the year. Other opinions that, whether you or I agree with them or not, seem to be on the faster track to becoming conventional wisdom: No Country for Old Men is the movie of the Coens' career, if not of the year, Wes Anderson needs a new act, Quentin Tarantino needs to refuel, and if you need someone to play a pained figure of American integrity of a certain age, you ought to ask Tommy Lee Jones first. Lovably perverse contrarian opinion of the year: Mel Gibson isn't just an anti-Semitic fruitcake, he's also a hell of a director! (Uh, if you say so. Under the right circumstances, I'd still pay to see him act.) — Phil Nugent

So Many Movies, So Little Time

Peter Smith — Tue, 16 Oct 2007 20:00:00 GMT

There were times this summer when I desperately scanned movie listings for something to lead me out of boredom and into air conditioning, only to find some very slim pickings. I thanked God for Netflix and moved on. But after spending the better part of this month trying to take advantage of all the New York Film Festival has had to offer, I suddenly find myself with an overwhelming backlog of must-see films.

I’ve yet to see Wes Anderson’s The Darjeeling Limited or Ang Lee’s Lust, Caution. The Assassination of Jesse James is surely not going to be the same movie on DVD as it is on film. Michael Clayton would normally be a solid contender for a trip to the movie theater. And how could I possibly pass on the black and white Ian Curtis biopic Control? I’m certainly curious about the Ryan Gosling vehicle Lars and the Real Girl, as well as Noah Baumbach’s sophomore effort, Margot at the Wedding. I was lucky enough to have seen an advance screening of Ben Affleck’s Gone Baby Gone, and you will not want to miss that sure-footed, tightly woven drama. But somebody is going to lose here, and the Times seems to agree with my sentiments.

I understand Oscar strategy, and the sad tale of the early-season release forgotten, but honestly, how does this make any sense? A couple of these films will likely still be in theaters a month from now, but a greater number will see their runs shortened by the surplus of other options. Not all of these scheduling decisions are based on awards positioning — some tie into film-festival premieres or distribution-company calendars — but if some had been released during the last few months, they would have had a much better chance of getting attention. For the moment I’ve got to determine which one of these movies I’m going to see first. — Bryan Whitefield

Take Five: Rock Stars

Peter Smith — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 20:00:00 GMT

Hollywood loves a rock star, especially if they have the good grace to die early and provide the scriptwriter with a nice tidy ending that doesn’t involve getting old and boring. With Control, Anton Corbijn’s celebrated directorial debut, opening this weekend, we’ll get to see how the movies do with the compellingly tragic story of Joy Division frontman Ian Curtis; his cult status, enigmatic qualities and spectacular suicide would seem to make him an ideal candidate for big-screen immortality. But while we wait for this and Todd Haynes’ Dylan biopic I’m Not There to hit our local screens, we can always immerse ourselves in previous big-screen treatments of rock and rollers — both real and imaginary — that Hollywood has brought us.

THE BUDDY HOLLY STORY (1978)

It wasn’t really until the 1970s that Hollywood came to terms with the idea that rock music wasn’t some passing fad (check out, oh, say, any movie about rock 'n' roll made during the 1960s as evidence), but they figured out quickly enough that the best rock star was a dead rock star. The first truly successful rock biopic wasn’t really the stuff of Hollywood legend — it played awfully fast and loose with the historical facts, and its script set a hokey, faux-spiritual tone that a lot of later movies would follow — but it’s worth watching for a standout lead performance as the chief Cricket by a pre-laughingstock Gary Busey, and excellent supporting roles by Charles Martin Smith and Conrad Janis.

SID AND NANCY (1986)

Very few people were in as good a position to make the quintessential punk-rock biopic than Alex Cox. He’d already proven with Repo Man that he was probably the only director of the 1980s who really understood punk-rock music, and with Sid and Nancy, he managed to strike just the right tone of empathy and tragedy. Gary Oldman, who'd go on to have a stellar career, does a fantastic job playing the born-to-die hellraiser Sid Vicious; Chloe Webb, who wouldn’t, is equally fantastic as the doomed Nancy Spungeon. A depressing but essential rock 'n' roll biography.

WHAT’S LOVE GOT TO DO WITH IT? (1993)

Falling into a lot of the same traps as The Buddy Holly Story (and, for that matter, a hundred other rock biographies), this look at the surprising career arc of Tina Turner falls into the trap of beatifying its subject — not surprising, given that it’s based on her own autobiography. It also spends so much time demonizing Ike Turner as an abusive monster (which he was) that it doesn’t really convey the sense of him as a musical genius (which he also was). Still, it’s redeemed by winning performances in the lead roles by Angela Bassett and Laurence Fishburne. Ike’s own autobiography remains unfilmed.

BACKBEAT (1994)

Possibly due to the notoriously litigious nature of the surviving members of the band, Hollywood has always had a standoffish approach to telling stories about the life and times of the biggest rock band in history. Maybe it’s because of the approach this nearly forgotten independent flick took towards the development of the Beatles that it managed to succeed on its own terms. Telling the story of the early days of the band and focusing on the forgotten Stu Sutcliffe, it’s by turns hokey and transcendent, and manages like few films before or since to make something fresh out of one of the most-told stories in pop music history.

VELVET GOLDMINE (1998)

Todd Haynes’ underappreciated interpretation of the glam rock era doesn’t name any names — it doesn’t have to. We all know that Jonathan Rhys Meyers is playing a veiled version of the chameleonoid David Bowie, and that a magnetically sexy Ewan McGregor is an amalgam of Iggy Pop and Kurt Cobain. And, in a way, the approach couldn’t be more fitting — the glam era was all about radical reinvention, fluctuating identities, and sexual ambiguity, and that’s what Haynes delivers in spades, along with a healthy dose of political paranoia, divine mystery and straight-up rock and roll fun.

— Leonard Pierce

Today in the Nerve Film Lounge

Peter Smith — Fri, 12 Oct 2007 16:00:00 GMT

Lars and the Real Girl: "Whether you find it moving or cloying will probably depend on how much down-to-earth, small-town decency you can handle in two hours."

Control: "I was wary of Control's recipe of suicide and rock. But it only took a few moments of Anton Corbijn's stark cinematography to disarm me."

Elizabeth: The Golden Age: "The question is not whether it's okay to rewrite history in a big-budget entertainment. It's just how stupid you think your audience is."

Mala Noche: Criterion Edition: "Suffused with an intoxicating, ironic mixture of longing and apathy, Mala Noche plays like a revelation after all these years."

Q&A: Catherine Breillat: "I always tell my actors that the more they censor themselves, the more it would look like a porn film."

Joy for Joy Division Fans

Peter Smith — Wed, 10 Oct 2007 20:00:00 GMT

When Sean Harris perfectly captured the hope and despair of Joy Division lead singer Ian Curtis, twitching on the stage like a broken electrical cable, in Michael Winterbottom's brilliant 24 Hour Party People, there seemed good reason to assume that it would remain the last filmic word on Curtis and his band for quite a while. Instead, Curtis will be returning to haunt movie screens this fall in two separate projects, both of them labors of love with contributions from Curtis's surviving associates. (Curtis hanged himself in 1980, at the age of twenty-three.) Photographer Anton Corbijn makes his feature-directing debut with Control, a biopic starring Sam Riley, which opens this week; it's based on a book by Curtis's widow, Deborah. (She's played in the movie by Samantha Morton.) Meanwhile, Joy Division, a documentary directed by Grant Gee and written by Jon Savage, features a mix of performance footage, TV appearances and interviews with surviving band members. It's also got interview footage of Tony Wilson, who was played by Steve Coogan in 24 Hour Party People and who himself died last August. Curtis's death threatened to make him the official Rock and Roll Suicide figure of post-punk, a cheesy honor if ever there was one, so it's good to hear Deborah Curtis and other representatives of both films insist that their real concern is depicting the accomplishments of his life, not celebrating his means of leaving it. Even the huckster antihero of 24 Hour Party People, who was not above marketing his dead star as a martyr, finally told the camera that he wished people who never knew Curtis or saw him perform could be made to understand how much fun he was. — Phil Nugent