It’s only playing at one theatre in Toronto, and I hate sitting next to people at the movies, so I waited for the crowds to die down before seeing Anton Corbijn’s Control. The lovingly crafted Ian Curtis biopic was, to say the least, worth the wait.

Chronicling the rise and sudden fall of Joy Division, Control captures in vivid detail the people, places, and events that made the band what it was, when it was. Corbijn, who photographed Joy Division at the peak of their fame, translates that intimacy seamlessly to the screen with his picture-perfect recreation of England in the late seventies. Shot in black and white, cinematographer Martin Ruhe’s camera captures the stark oppressiveness of Curtis’ hometown, with its narrow streets and apocalypse-grey skies, visuals that create another character of the setting itself. Sam Riley’s electric portrayal of Curtis, the band’s tortured but brilliant frontman was full of all the anger, mystery, and charisma that made him who he was.

From his portrayal in the film, which was co-produced by Curtis’ widow, it’s easy to see Curtis in the mold of Jim Morrison, only British, and much, much cooler. Imagine The Doors without all that hippy-dippy stuff and California sunshine. Curtis was Morrison without the tan and the pretense: a mad prophet, ahead of his times.

Like all great films about bands, Control left me with a far greater appreciation for the music itself. While the lyrics to the songs of the soundtrack synched perfectly with the events of the film, it was only when I got home and began watching videos of the band on YouTube that I understood just how right the film was. Its depiction of Curtis and his band is flawless, from their clothes to their beards to the way they play their guitars. A very grizzled-looking John Cooper Clarke even shows up for a cameo. The whole thing left me with the feeling that I hadn’t just watched a movie about a band, I had watched this band.

See the movie, then check this out.