Control is what all musician biopics should aspire to be, yet few ever achieve. Instead of following the familiar formula of endless musical performances and moments designed to turn the protagonist into a larger-than-life figure, Control takes a different approach. It is not the story of the rise and fall of a myth, because there was no myth at least not while Ian Curtis was alive.
The film presents Ian as an imperfect and deeply human person, allowing the audience to feel his anguish without relying on the artificial mystique so often created by pop culture. Curtis is neither portrayed as a misunderstood genius nor as a martyr. He is simply a young man living with a real illness, a real marriage that slowly falls apart, and a real band dealing with real tours, real contracts, and real pressures. The film never romanticizes those struggles; it portrays them with a level of honesty that is, at times, almost uncomfortable.
Control is what all musician biopics should aspire to be, yet few ever achieve. Instead of following the familiar formula of endless musical performances and moments designed to turn the protagonist into a larger-than-life figure, Control takes a different approach. It is not the story of the rise and fall of a myth, because there was no myth at least not while Ian Curtis was alive.
The film presents Ian as an imperfect and deeply human person, allowing the audience to feel his anguish without relying on the artificial mystique so often created by pop culture. Curtis is neither portrayed as a misunderstood genius nor as a martyr. He is simply a young man living with a real illness, a real marriage that slowly falls apart, and a real band dealing with real tours, real contracts, and real pressures. The film never romanticizes those struggles; it portrays them with a level of honesty that is, at times, almost uncomfortable.
