24 Hour Party People

One thing’s for sure, 24 Hour Party People, which is essentially the story of Manchester based Factory Records, won’t be appearing on any of the syllabi for business courses in the near future – well, unless it’s as a cautionary example of how not to run a company. After all, they had no contracts with their artists, afforded them total artistic freedom and released a 12� single which cost them money for every copy sold - a 12� single which, incidentally, quickly became the biggest selling example of the format to this day. And that's all just for starters...

"This is Manchester; we do things differently here…"

But this is music we’re talking about, a form of art, so perhaps traditional business models aren’t particularly apt? Still, the odd bit of basic smarts can never go astray. Regardless of their completely hodgepodge approach to business which finally saw Factory go rather spectacularly “phut!� in the early ‘90s, it’s undeniable that if not for the various passions which fuelled it the musical landscape today would be somewhat depressingly different. After all, to some of us a world with no New Order, or even no Happy Mondays, would just somehow be incredibly off kilter – not to mention how many other classic acts we’d have missed out on simply for the lack of there being that inspiration there to propel them to even try in the first place.

Honestly, would you wear that to a Pistols gig?!

In 24 Hour Party People, named after an early Happy Mondays song, director Michael Winterbottom grabs a tentative hold on the Factory story, using its highest profile founder, regional TV presenter, Cambridge graduate and oft-times completely pompous twat Tony Wilson, as the glue to keep the whole story together as we traverse the company’s lifespan from formation in 1976 through to when the machine just went and broke down in 1992. Well, kind of together, for quite appropriately the movie itself is rather gloriously scattershot in its approach, throwing everything at the screen from some of the greatest bands the world has ever known to bizarre news reports, drug-addled pigeon poisoners to loved-up ravers, offbeat direct to camera chats to solemn, dramatic, genuinely moving moments, all with a mixture of legend and fact as its basis. Every brain cell bouncing about your head screams “it shouldn’t work!�, however strangely, perhaps wilfully even, it all somehow comes together to deliver an elegy to this most exciting of periods in musical history that it’s impossible to imagine anybody else bettering.

And to think, inadvertently it was the Sex Pistols who were the catalysts for it all. Their first ever Manchester show in June 1976, attended by most everybody to have ever walked the Earth if you’re to believe them (but actually only 42 people), boasted within its small number many folk who were to go on to great things – Howard Devoto and Pete Shelley of Buzzcocks fame; Ian Curtis, Bernard Sumner, Peter Hook and Stephen Morris, or Joy Division (later New Order); renowned mad-as-a-cut-snake producer Martin Hannett; Tony Wilson, Alan Erasmus and Rob Gretton, who started a club night and soon after formed Factory – oh, and Mick Hucknall of Simply Red. Well, seemingly not everybody there necessarily had greatness within them. Our story commences here, wending its way through two main “acts� if you will, the first being the ascent of Joy Division and the tragic suicide of their singer Ian Curtis, followed by the remaining three’s phoenix-like rise from the seemingly insurmountable to conquer the indie dance world as New Order, which blends nicely into the second act; the onset of rave culture

The Happy Mondays Step On...

– “Madchester� if you will – spearheaded by another Factory band, the Happy Mondays and the white elephant that came good, FAC51, otherwise known as The Hacienda nightclub.

Anybody who has ever experienced comedian/actor Steve Coogan’s character Alan Partridge is sure to find a lot of that creation in his portrayal here of Tony Wilson, the irony being that said character was in part actually inspired by the guy in the first place – what goes around comes around, and all that. His performance as that kind of glue which keeps things vaguely adherent to some semblance of plot here is quite sublime, helped out no end by a not particularly big name, but no less talented because of it, supporting cast all faced with a rather lofty challenge – portraying an array of people all well-known, many of whom are still alive and still around the scene. Some are spookily accurate; while some are merely representative without invoking any real sense of those they’re playing – however as with the screenplay, the direction, hell – even the whole Factory saga to a degree – it all works. Somehow.

Much like the pupils of a Hacienda punter who’s indulged in not necessarily licit substances, the cinematic ratio of 1.85:1 has been dilated a little to 1.78:1. Still, thankfully this slight alteration to the original aspect makes very little difference to the 16:9 enhanced vision we’re treated to.

Originally shot on Digital Video save for the opening hang glider scenes, 24 Hour Party People also uses quite a bit of old footage – most notably of the Sex Pistols and many of their contemporaries as well as Joy Division’s Anton Corbijn directed, grain-laden video for Atmosphere – and all manner of effects here and there ranging from desaturation to total black and white,

Live transmission...

the addition of scanlines and more. With the odd example of speckles on the new footage – and there really aren’t many of them – it would lead one to surmise that somewhere along the line this was actually plopped onto film before its DVD transfer, but this does lend proceedings that quite lovely filmic look you just don’t get from video. Colour ranges from bleak to absolutely jellybean-hued as the ‘n’ in Manchester changes to a ‘d’ over the years represented, while the many dingy scenes (hey, this is Northern England!) never see shadow detail suffering to any worrying degree. Meanwhile, overall detail is never sharp enough to induce massive amounts of aliasing, and never blunt enough to make things all indistinct and messy. What is messy, however, is the unfortunate placement of the layer change, fumbling its way through its business a split second or three after a scene change, and briefly encroaching upon dialogue.

An absolutely bangin’ Dolby Digital 5.1 mix is dealt out here, and there’s a standard stereo mix for those who haven’t quite gotten around to adding to their speaker posse. With a film that’s ostensibly about music you’d hope for a fabulous audio mix, and this certainly doesn’t disappoint, with much obvious effort gone to in adding a realistic vibe to the many live clips and club scenes, some of which simply ooze completely appropriate subwoofwoof doof.

24 Hour Poisoned Pigeons...

General synch is at all times spot on (some of the miming is a tad out here and there, but that’s no transfer fault), while many of the surround effects are very impressive (the pigeon scene being one particularly pleasing example) and importantly all dialogue comes across deftly balanced with the music, although some may find a few of the thick accents a tad challenging to decipher at times - and Shaun Ryder challenging at all times.

As for the soundtrack, it seems rather wasteful to go into it here as it is pretty well covered up above there somewhere. As well as the various tracks from Joy Division, New Order and the Mondays many of the bit players such as A Certain Ratio, Durutti Column and Vini Reilly get some spotlight time, while the club scenes tend to dive off into some classic dance stuff, including the awesome Voodoo Ray by A Guy Called Gerald and Moby’s Go.

Anybody who’s into the whole Factory thing will have an absolute field day with the massive array of extras on offer here over two discs, everything the English release got, plus a little more. First things first, animated menus accompany the first disc, designed around the whole construction kind of vibe appropriated by designer Peter Saville and used by Factory early on, and with musical accompaniment from New Order’s collaboration with the Chemical Brothers for this film, Here to Stay. A generous chunk of this track also accompanies the static menu on disc two.

Tony Wilson's world renowned Bez impersonation...

Starting at the very beginning (you know, ‘cos it’s a very good place to start and all that), the first disc offers up two commentaries. The first, featuring actor Steve Coogan and producer Andrew Eaton, is full of bits and bobs for the anoraks, many instances of pet lines and scenes and it also de-blurs some of the lines between fact and fiction as the film depicts them. It has its gaps, but is definitely worth a listen for anybody well into the whole scene, although the second commentary, featuring the real Tony Wilson, is a much better proposition. Getting to add his own two pence worth about this “piece of shit�, his donation is full of stuff pretty much only he could know, many denials of depicted events and just plain outright pissed-offedness at others. Full of big words, boo-boos for the trainspotters and decidedly defensive at times, despite the gaps it’s a must-listen, and also a perfect example as to what a great job Coogan did in nailing the man’s way of speaking. In addition to these there’s a trivia track entitled Who’s Who in 24 Hour Party People. In a big, yellow, not entirely appropriate choice of font, most songs, cameos, actors etc are given some time, along with the odd bit of trivia. Whoever did them seemed to lose interest partway through the film, but there’s still quite a lot to learn throughout – even if there is one massive boo-boo during Joy Division’s Atmosphere.

Staying on disc one, next up is a selection of 24 (naturally!) deleted scenes adding up to just over half an hour, including the odd alternative take. For the most part these fall onto the decidedly non-vital side of the ledger, although a couple of the ones featuring the Mondays raise the odd titter, and Gillian of New Order (well, somebody pretending to be her) actually gets to speak in another. There are, however, three big disappointments here. Firstly, there’s no ‘play all’ function, making it all an absolute pain in the jacksie to navigate. Secondly, while most have incomplete sound, many of these scenes drift in an out of total silence, despite obvious dialogue going on, making them essentially useless. Oh, and thirdly – the Vini Reilly cameo mentioned in the feature isn’t actually here!

Rounding out the first platter is the extremely American theatrical trailer (2:08, 1.78:1 anamorphic, DD2.0), the music video for New Order’s Here to Stay (4:18), which allows them their regular luxury of not bothering to appear in such things as they had actors playing them hanging around (it’s a weird experience!). Sadly, however, some nong involved in the clip managed to spell Martin Hannett’s name wrong on the ‘in memoriam’ text at the end of it. Oh, there’s also a plug for an exclusive promotion where prize packs featuring CDs, books (yes please!) and other stuff are up for grabs.

And that’s just the little, sticky-outty bit of the iceberg, for disc two has a cavalcade of further bonus goodies to get down and dirty with, starting with probably the best feature in the set (other than the film, of course), a sort of commentary whereby a whole bunch of folk who were around to live the real story assemble in a pub, knock back the odd cocktail of five and react to the movie as it’s played. Under the banner From the Factory Floor, the main picture we get is of those assembled (Peter ‘Hooky’ Hook of New Order, Rowetta of Happy Mondays, Martin Moscrop of A Certain Ratio, Bruce Mitchell of Durutti Column, DJ Bobby Langley, journalist Miranda Sawyer and, eventually, Hacienda manager Leroy Richardson) while the film plays in a wee window at bottom left, with the odd excursion into full screen film viewing here and there. Pumped full of digs at the expense of Tony Wilson, occasional bouts of regret, regular whines from Hooky about what the whole experience cost them and completely off track observations (like the very best pub conversations), this is vital viewing, marred only ever so slightly by the fact that the film dialogue is out of synch a tad. Still, as Hooky remarks more than once, “How Factory is that?!�

A series of featurettes ensues, commencing with a look at director Michael Winterbottom entitled Profile of a Director (23:35). What will be of most interest to 24hr PP fans here will be the many peeks behind the scenes of the shoot, along with interview snippets from many of the cast and crew, as well as the usually rather secretive director himself. Next up is The Real Tony Wilson (5:09), another melange of interviews with all and sundry about the “Where’s Wally figure� the whole film is hung around. Playing People Who Are Still Alive (3:48) is next on the list, once again featuring brief interview bits concentrating on the challenges of impersonating real people who can quite easily track you down and give you a right good snotting if they’re not happy with your work. Wrapping up the featurettes is Genesis of 24 Hour Party People (4:34), where the idea of how it all came about is discussed by those involved in its creation.

What will have graphics nerds in (no, not “on�) ecstasy is the inclusion of a 48:36 Peter Saville gallery. Rather than just heaps of his design work flitting past our eyes, stills of a few of his more renowned works – a couple of posters for various Factory/Hacienda nights, the Factory Sample release, Joy Division’s Unknown Pleasures and Closer albums, New Order’s Blue Monday and Power, Corruption and Lies and also Electronic’s Getting Away With It single (Electronic were a “supergroup� featuring Barney of New Order, Johnny Marr of The Smiths and Neil Tennant of Pet Shop Boys for those going “huh?�) – are accompanied by a conversation between Saville and the real Tony Wilson. It won’t be everybody’s cup of tea; however those with an eye for design will discover much of interest, especially the fact that the guy was such a tealeaf, “finding� much of his work in that of others.

A whole load of interviews comes along next, 11 to be more precise. Totalling around 48 minutes, once again things are impeded somewhat by the lack of a ‘play all’ option. Featuring people from some of the bands (including James, who left Factory after a couple of single releases), DJs of both the club and radio varieties, remixers, Hacienda folk and Tony Wilson, many are rather sharply edited sound bites for which we’re not privy to the questions, but there’s quite a bit more info to be gleaned about the many stories in Factory’s orbit intermingled throughout. It’s also interesting, or perhaps sad, to note the shocking state Shaun Ryder appears to be in today, shaking and slurring and generally appearing almost completely out of it. After all, when Bez comes across as infinitely more healthy and together you really have to wonder! Speaking of Shaun, an exclusive extra to our local release is a page about his new album, Amateur Night at the Big Top, complete with the video clip for his recent single Scooter Girl (4:35), which after a bleepy intro gets into quite the groovy little Mondays-ish vibe, all funky and “fook�-laden (in fact there are easily more “fooks� than any given sentence ever uttered by Oasis’ Liam Gallagher) with a flurry of freaky, fit-inducing found footage.

Finally we get to round things out, with the return of that exclusive promotion plug, another plug - this time for Tony Wilson’s book of the same name as the film – and a series of plugs in the shape of Madman Propaganda for eight flicks, including the very exciting looking study of the whole mid-‘90s ‘Britpop’ thing, Live Forever (which quite frustratingly isn’t due out here until March next year – talk about teaser trailers!).

Undoubtedly a fantastic fairground ride for anybody with even a sliver of interest in popular music, this two-disc 24 Hour Party People set has been well worth the interminable wait we’ve endured for a local release, thanks in no small part to its unexpected success at the 2002 Melbourne International Film Festival, which led to a cinematic release early in 2003.

Boasting regularly thrillingly immersive audio, a veritable feast of extras and a decent, though not as perfect as it could have been visual transfer, despite certain historical inaccuracies for the sake of entertainment this is a fitting tribute to one of the most exciting musical periods of our generation, when Manchester really seemed to be the centre of a particularly exciting universe. Made even better by the fact that Tony Wilson himself describes it as a “piece of shit�, 24 Hour Party People is a refreshingly unique, simply indispensable, beautiful shambles. And if you don’t agree, well, as the great bass god Hooky may say, you can just fook off!