Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

But Why Should I Watch 24-Hour Party People?

I dumped that last post on you, Enthusiasts, just a recommendation without reason: sure, I said “trust me” but you all know that “trust me” is something people not to be trusted say. Why, then, should you spend two hours of your valuable (?) time on an independent movie about ugly people in the North of England?

Here you are:

  1. Technically a foreign film. Watching foreign films makes you smarter.
  2. That wonderful dissonance that comes when you know–KNOW–that someone is speaking English, and yet you cannot understand a single word.
  3. Steve Coogan is the thinking man’s Ricky Gervais.
  4. Everyone onscreen is smoking constantly; I miss movie smoking.
  5. The director, Michael Winterbottom, doesn’t treat you like a complete idiot. You know the scene in the music biopic where the actor playing the famous musician enters and one of the other characters says, “Oh, hello, young Ian Curtis. I heard you have epilepsy.”? That scene isn’t in here: half the characters don’t even get an intro; you just have to figure out who they are.
  6. The director’s name is Michael Winterbottom, and that sounds like something from the Urban Dictionary.
  7. Like, when you get naked and jam yourself asshole-first onto a snowman’s carrot nose.
  8. Something like that.
  9. This guy’s in it:
  10. That guy’s name is Lennie James, and he is in pretty much every British movie.
  11. I may or may not think of him as “English Don Cheadle.”
  12. There’s near-constant fourth-wall breaking and acknowledgement that a filmed version of reality isn’t in any way reality, just an iteration thereof.
  13. Gosh, I don’t know why I like this movie.
  14. Not one single female character is called a cunt.
  15. Every single male character is called a cunt, repeatedly and with variations in tone indicating various connotations of the word.
  16. There was clearly no money for special effects, so when all the pigeons die or God shows up (both of those phrases make sense when you watch the movie) they’re just gloriously cheap and shitty. Also, the movie’s set from ’76 to the early ’90’s, but every time there’s a driving scene you can make out 2002-era cars in the background.
  17. Non-mocap Andy Serkis is in it, BUT you still can’t tell it’s him. I won’t tell you who he plays, but I will give you a hint: he’s the guy that looks like TotD used to.
  18. Because he does it for love. Tony Wilson, the hero, he does it all for love–his music, his city, and himself–and the world stomps right on him. No blue beam and alien army, no stunning courtroom reversal, no declaration of love in the airport: Tony Wilson loses in the end, and bless him for it.

6 Comments

  1. The extent to which fake Martin Hannett resembles young ToTd is reason enough. Is there something special you put in your hair to achieve that effect? Shaving cream? Does it sting when it gets in your eyes?

  2. I never saw the movie though I am a huge Joy Division fan. Is the movie as cool as the actual people:

    Do they recreate this first appearance spot on? They have the actual footage:

    How did Tony Wilson & Rob Gretton miss on The Smiths & Oasis? I get them missing on Oasis, but The Smiths seems like a total gift as they were next Manchester band. The Smiths for sure would have done better than The Dirutti Column, but they were ultimately too safe for the early ’80s Factory label. Is the movie seem as daft as this clip:

    Poor Martin probably died in that very chair he keeps sitting in(he died in a chair at least).

    • Thoughts On The Dead

      January 30, 2017 at 10:44 pm

      Watch the movie. You’ll love it. Just watch the first ten minutes and if you don’t like it, then stop and tell me I’m a dick.

      But you’ll totally like it. WATCH MOVIE SO GOOD.

    • Thoughts On The Dead

      January 30, 2017 at 10:45 pm

      Re: The Smiths. There’s a line about it in the film, but apparently Tony Wilson was one of the many people Morrissey hated.

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