24 Hour Party People's Music

Despite the presence of underage groupies, petty infighting and debauched backstage decadence, Michael Winterbottom's 24 Hour Party People (which opened here Aug. 9) is not your ordinary rock biopic. It's British-made for one, and therefore possesses a kind of lean, sly briskness. There is none of the grandiose melodrama of The Doors or the precious nostalgia of Almost Famous. Although the prerequisite sex and self-destruction make appearances, in the end Winterbottom's film is less about sound and music than a time and place.

Set in Manchester during the magic moment 1976-1992 (which in some ways continues today), 24 Hour Party People captures a time when the city was quickly evolving from grimy industrial port to one of the UK's most vital cultural centers. Winterbottom anchors his film in Manchester's now legendary music scene, a sound born with the first transmissions from postpunk masters Joy Division that eventually grew into the electro-dance phenomenon of New Order and the giddy feelgood of the Happy Mondays. In between there were the Smiths, A Certain Ratio and the Durutti Column, and hovering above it all the beloved and despised father figure of Tony Wilson, a local journalist and raconteur who helped spread the Mancunian gospel through a television show, a label (Factory Records) and his infamous Hacienda Club.

Shot almost entirely on digital video and moving at a breakneck pace through two decades of Manchester history, 24 Hour Party People uses Wilson (played by comedian Steve Coogan) as its Greek chorus and narrative constant.

"I hadn't realized what a pivotal effect I was having on people's lives at that time," recalls the real-life Wilson. "They were watching me on television, this strange guy who was the main news presenter but who also had this show where he would put on bands like the Sex Pistols and Iggy and the Buzzcocks. So I suppose I did have an effect on what was happening. But the idea of doing a film about it all?I mean they usually reserve this sort of thing for when you're dead, don't they?"

True enough, but much of the film's strength comes with the knowledge that the Manchester scene is still very much alive and kicking, as are many of 24 Hour's main players.

"It's a bit unusual to play someone who is actually around to criticize your performance," admits Coogan. "I know Tony, so it was an interesting situation. When Peter Hook [of Joy Division and New Order] heard about the casting, he said, 'It's the biggest twat in Manchester being played by the second biggest twat in Manchester,' which I took as a great compliment."

For Hook, the release of 24 Hour Party People could not have been an easy pill to swallow; Winterbottom spends a majority of the film exploring the rise of Joy Division and the subsequent suicide of its troubled singer Ian Curtis.

"The more personal moments were a little bit shocking, to be honest," Hook admits. "It's a strange thing for me, because it's so close to home. But in the end I'm just incredibly touched that people still seem to care so much about that music and that time."

"When Michael first approached me about this project I was a bit dubious," says Wilson. "Basically, it was like, 'The past is dead, who really gives a fuck?'"

Coogan had much the same response. "I didn't think anyone would be interested," he admits, "but apparently they were."

Winterbottom's enthusiasm for his subject is apparent in his attention to detail, a fastidiousness and authenticity that include everything from a complete recreation of the Hacienda (filled with extras who had spent many an ecstasy-fueled evening in the original) to intense improvisation on the part of his actors, all of whom he encouraged to inhabit their roles with as little inhibition as possible.

"I really immersed myself in that time, watching video and talking to people," says Sean Harris, who plays a hauntingly realistic Ian Curtis. "I tried to understand what he was like and not just mimic the movements and put on the clothes. When I was a kid I remember catching this moment on BBC2 when Joy Division played 'Transmission.' It was the first time I saw Ian, and I remember very vividly thinking, 'Fucking hell, what's that all about?' I had never seen anyone do that before, and I never forgot it. I really felt a strange connection to him once we were on set."

Coogan says that "Because of the way Michael was filming on video and because of the freedom in that, much of the time it didn't feel like you were on a set so much as an actual environment, a real place. He didn't try to do a literal translation exactly, but in a naturalistic and sometimes surreal way he tried to capture the essence of what it was like at that time."

Manchester's transition from ugly duckling to urban swan?and its residents' evolution from angry working-class youth to merry rave kids?is in many ways the film's true focus.

"Manchester at the time when we started out was very miserable, very industrial and very gloomy," Hook recalls. "Bernard [Sumner, of Joy Division and New Order] has this theory that the reason we were making music was to try to get away from it. But now it's hard to get away from here, and I wouldn't want to. The funny thing is that Manchester, since we began, has improved, and as you got better, Manchester got better."

"Thirty years ago this place was a derelict wasteland," Wilson concurs. "Now it's this groovy hot spot in the north of England."

That's due in large part to the vitality music injected into a city beaten down by economic depression and too many gray days. But the reworking of desperation into art is old news. What's endearing about the Manchester scene is that once that desperation was replaced with economic equilibrium and ecstasy, Mancunians kept right on creating, finding just as much music in feeling good as they once had in feeling bad.

And most remarkable of all, the Manchester scene's originators seem to have somehow avoided the inevitable transition from the young and the hungry to the middle-aged and complacent. Not only is Wilson still the man on the scene, but Hook's New Order is still managing reinvention and innovation. In the end, Winterbottom's film is less a nostalgic nod to days gone by than a gleeful revisit.

"The greatest thing of all about seeing the film was that the music sounded fantastic, it sounded timeless, which made me quite proud," Hook says. "It has to be the biggest compliment in the world that people still find your music fresh and exciting. I remember someone saying to us, after Ian had killed himself, when were all totally despondent and thought it was the end, 'Don't worry lads, you're going to be like the Doors. You're going to be really big in 10 years.' It took 20, but at least they were in the ballpark."