Control, the story of Joy Division, concentrates on the lean days prior to commercial success and thereby admits to its own redundancy. Ian Curtis, the lead singer, has teeth like David Bowie and albums of the British singer to listen to.

Shot entirely in black-and-white, Control dissipates aggression and focuses on the creative process, where a group of four young men from Macclesfield (a town my ancestors came from) inhabit a locus of blessedness. The post-punk imperative veered toward glam but kept the lid on, true to its working-class roots. This is a testament to the many important projects that have led to improved conditions for the common man.

Unfortunately for Debbie (Samantha Morton), and despite his apparent groundedness, Ian wanders. A beautiful, young diplomatic attache from Belgium does an interview and will later meet up with the boys. But before I could see the denouement, I left the theatre.

The main problem is the speed. It's just too slow. And although the colour scheme and presence of numerous songs lift the production out of the canonical Hollywood mode, I just felt like there was more excitement in the music (and what it meant to me as an undergraduate) than we get on-screen.

My summation? Worth a visit, but not suitable for permanent habitation.