Flick of The Day: 24 Hour Party People

Capturing the zeitgeist and atmosphere of a musical era is a hard task for any film-maker. Many have tried and failed, whether it be through poor impersonations of iconic characters such as John Carpenter's Elvis or the downright tedium of Oliver Stone's The Doors. Perhaps the best attempts have been documentaries, from 1970's Woodstock to 1978's The Last Waltz, there is a rich history of musical documentaries and concert films. It is interesting then to note the approach taken by Michael Winterbottom in today's flick of the day, 24 Hour Party People, documenting the rise and fall of the Manchester music scene from the late '70s to the early 90's. Part documentary, part drama, it is a stunning portrayal of a time and a place.

24 Hour Party People

Narrated by and starring Steve Coogan as Tony Wilson, a television journalist from Manchester, dissatisfied with his job and believing it to be beneath him, he yearns for something more important. In 1976, he attends a concert by the seminal Punk band the Sex Pistols. Although only attended by 42 people, Wilson views this as a historic event as so many of the biggest names in the Manchester music scene were formed by the people at that concert, bands like Joy Division, The Buzzcocks, New Order, and even Mick Hucknall of Simply Red fame. Wilson is inspired to set up his own club night, to give these bands a venue, and ultimately forms a record label, the infamous Factory Records. The films charts the rise and fall of Factory and its music in an irreverent manner, frequently taking liberty with the facts, with Wilson breaking the fourth wall to comment on events as they happen and intercutting the actors with concert footage of the era. Despite having some of the biggest bands of the era, this is a not a tale of money and wealth. If anything, Factory Records is perhaps best remembered for its ability to lose money in the name of art. From the creation of the mammoth Hacienda Nightclub which ultimately brought Wilson's label down to the expensive sleeve for New Order's Blue Monday single which meant they lost money on every copy sold, it is obvious that these were not businessmen but hedonists. 

This is just some of the wonderful detail that give this tale the colour that makes it so interesting. It helps of course that there are so many colourful characters to populate it. There is the depressive genius of Ian Curtis, lead singer with Joy Division, the loutish junkie Shaun Ryder of The Happy Mondays and Wilson himself, always entertaining despite being an overtly pompous character at times and always over the top and bombastic. The film doesn't shy away from the fact that so much of this music scene was drug fuelled, indeed Wilson notes at one point that the reason the Hacienda club lost so much money was that nobody bought drinks, just Ecstasy. 

Tony Wilson: You know, I think that Shaun Ryder is on a par with W.B. Yeats as a poet. 

Yvette: Really? 

Tony Wilson: Absolutely. Totally. 

Yvette: Well, that is amazing, considering everyone else thinks he's a fucking idiot.

Shot with digital video in a restless yet realistic style, Winterbottom succeeds in making drab late 70s Manchester interesting and colourful. Coming in at under 2 hours, the film isn't long enough to begin to grate with Wilson's self deprecating humour carrying the film through its lesser moments. Wilson's conviction  that the likes of the sub-moronic Happy Monday's were poets is undoubtedly a debatable one. This is the point of the film though, Wilson never cared for anyone else's opinion and this comes across throughout the film, he believed all the lines he sells people. 

The end when it comes is quick. Like all great cultural changes, it was over in the blink of an eye. Then the recriminations and hubris begin. However, its the rise and fall that makes this an interesting film and well worth a look. Carried by a strong performance from Coogan and a great supporting cast including Paddy Considine and Andy Serkis, this excellently captures the  Manchester scene.