Tony Wilson was so full of nonsense that he had no idea what a spirituality-mongering blabbermouth he came off as despite the fact that nearly every single person in his circle of friends called him the C-word multiple times. These sort of highbrow college-educated heavyweights casually throwing their weight around are the type of characters Steve Coogan is made to play. He melts into the flow of the fast-talking Manchester legend.
What makes Michael Winterbottom's sorta biopic great is the fact that he's not bothered with the financial how-to and technical tinkering of how the man founded the underground Factory Records label and the infamous Haçienda nightclub. Why should he? The only piece of paper tying the bands to the label is a contract written in Wilson's own blood which says that the bands can do whatever they want anyway! In the business world, this is insanity as Factory Records are now completely swallowed and forgotten by their parent London Records. Winterbottom was aware he was capturing a moment worthy of psychological analysis.
Among the bands who became made at Factory, Joy Division stands out the most. To think both of their only two albums were made in such a volatile environment speaks multitudes about the visions of these people. Some of whom were powered by drugs, but for a few, it was all that mattered. Yet the real fun part here comes from the illuminist ambitions of working class people. But what other class of people would need the luxury of a well-rested spirit rather than the aforementioned? Wilson and his peers know they deserve better and his casual approach to anything really is almost irritating. Take the scene in which he is caught by his wife receiving oral sex from a prostitute only to then having him catching her performing sexual intercourse in his club's bathroom. No biggie. An eye for an eye, I guess.
Wilson might've talked a lot of smack, twisted his tongues referencing and comparing his work to the likes of philosophers and scientists. His BA in English also helped him to skillfully charm prophecies to a generational youth ready to attach themselves to whatever meaning they can find but he was never a crook. His nightclub barely broke even, his bands were under no contracts, even when he was broke he spent tens of thousands of dollars on a new-age-looking office table. You quickly get that these people did not care much for money.
Joy Division, despite being name after a Nazi group, were not fascists, not even close! They just liked the name. "Haven't you heard of postmodernism" Wilson would tell reporters. Still, that did not stop skinheads from attending their concerts much to the band's dislike. This lack of understanding from the outside overly-political world is the sole reason why this type of art remains underground. To explain that everything is pure expression, admittedly, sounds far-fetcher and a cowardly excuse but it really is as simple as that! It is probably the reason why Ian Curtis also gave up on life by tragically hanging himself. For him, the fight was pointless, but for Wilson--he is unbreakable and whoever doesn't get it can just bugger off.
On the Haçienda's closing night, he gracefully invited the attendees to burn it to the ground and take everything they want. Despite his highbrow attitude, he was a man of the people who also mourned Manchester's industrial past. How could he not be? He was the one person in the music industry who infamously didn't make any money.
What makes Michael Winterbottom's sorta biopic great is the fact that he's not bothered with the financial how-to and technical tinkering of how the man founded the underground Factory Records label and the infamous Haçienda nightclub. Why should he? The only piece of paper tying the bands to the label is a contract written in Wilson's own blood which says that the bands can do whatever they want anyway! In the business world, this is insanity as Factory Records are now completely swallowed and forgotten by their parent London Records. Winterbottom was aware he was capturing a moment worthy of psychological analysis.
Among the bands who became made at Factory, Joy Division stands out the most. To think both of their only two albums were made in such a volatile environment speaks multitudes about the visions of these people. Some of whom were powered by drugs, but for a few, it was all that mattered. Yet the real fun part here comes from the illuminist ambitions of working class people. But what other class of people would need the luxury of a well-rested spirit rather than the aforementioned? Wilson and his peers know they deserve better and his casual approach to anything really is almost irritating. Take the scene in which he is caught by his wife receiving oral sex from a prostitute only to then having him catching her performing sexual intercourse in his club's bathroom. No biggie. An eye for an eye, I guess.
Wilson might've talked a lot of smack, twisted his tongues referencing and comparing his work to the likes of philosophers and scientists. His BA in English also helped him to skillfully charm prophecies to a generational youth ready to attach themselves to whatever meaning they can find but he was never a crook. His nightclub barely broke even, his bands were under no contracts, even when he was broke he spent tens of thousands of dollars on a new-age-looking office table. You quickly get that these people did not care much for money.
Joy Division, despite being name after a Nazi group, were not fascists, not even close! They just liked the name. "Haven't you heard of postmodernism" Wilson would tell reporters. Still, that did not stop skinheads from attending their concerts much to the band's dislike. This lack of understanding from the outside overly-political world is the sole reason why this type of art remains underground. To explain that everything is pure expression, admittedly, sounds far-fetcher and a cowardly excuse but it really is as simple as that! It is probably the reason why Ian Curtis also gave up on life by tragically hanging himself. For him, the fight was pointless, but for Wilson--he is unbreakable and whoever doesn't get it can just bugger off.
On the Haçienda's closing night, he gracefully invited the attendees to burn it to the ground and take everything they want. Despite his highbrow attitude, he was a man of the people who also mourned Manchester's industrial past. How could he not be? He was the one person in the music industry who infamously didn't make any money.