Filmed and edited around the same time as Anton Corbijn's biopic Control, the eponymous documentary on the short career and long-ranging impact of the crucial post-punk band Joy Division might be seen as simply a companion piece to the Dutch photographer's dramatization; a full-frame view of the group's history rather than the detail picture of lead singer Ian Curtis's life and struggles.

Yet, the non-fiction version feels much more impactful and vital, thanks in no small part to the varying points of view presented, as well as touching on the psychological underpinnings of Curtis's 1980 suicide but willfully refusing to dwell on them.

As well, Joy Division ends up not only as an elegy to a brilliant band and the equally-brilliant people who embellished and enhanced their sound – producer Martin Hannett, graphic designer Peter Saville and Factory Records impresario Tony Wilson – but to a long lamented music scene in England that is still influencing bands some 30 years after the fact. Director Grant Gee points the camera at the location of various clubs around Manchester that nurtured their vast hometown talent, the majority of which have been long since shut down.

The film also dispels many theories about the band being these brooding, dark intellectuals, at least the three surviving members of Joy Division. Bassist Peter Hook speaks quite candidly throughout on how disappointed he was in the sound of their seminal recordings and at their laddish antics on the road and in the studio.

What hovers over the film, though, is a huge cloud of regret that each member of the band and their crew and friends have over not doing something more to save Ian Curtis's life before it was too late. It was apparently only the singer's girlfriend, Annik Honore, who pointed his lyrics out to Wilson as the desperate cries of help that they were, only to have Wilson rebuff her with, "It's only art, darling."

The one voice that is missing from this film, though, is Curtis's long-suffering wife, Deborah. There are miscellaneous quotes from her memoir Touching From A Distance, scattered throughout, but she either was not interviewed for the film or did not want to participate. Either way, her perspective, I think, is solely needed in the din of ideas and voices that this film presents.

Regardless of that oversight, Joy Division is essential viewing for anyone who wishes to gain a further appreciation of the group and their work, as well as a key companion to works like Simon Reynolds' pioneering study of post-punk music Rip It Up and Start Again.