Director: Asif Kapadia.
Cast: Mitch Winehouse, Mark Ronson, Blake
Fielder-Civil, Pete Doherty.
Opens at: Wide.
In
the Comedy Central show BROAD CITY, the
character Lincoln (played by Hannibal Burress) at one point says, "Y'know,
I'm not over Amy Winehouse. It's like... We knew it would happen, but we didn't
do anything about it. I didn't know-her-know-her... but I still miss her."
The
moment comes out of nowhere in that show, and it isn't played for laughs. It
just kind of lingers.
That
says something, I think, about the way many Amy Winehouse fans look back at the
singer's tragic death in 2011, the result of a heart failure related to her
struggles with alcoholism. They still have questions. They're still somber.
The
new documentary AMY, much to its
credit, fully acknowledges all of this as it looks back at Winehouse's time in
the spotlight with home videos, performance footage, rare photographs, and a
collection of both new and old interviews with her friends, family and work
acquaintances.
It's
outstanding, really, the amount of access that director Asif Kapadia is given
here. Thanks to footage shot by Winehouse's first manager, Nick Shymansky, we
see firsthand how old a soul she was by age 19, and also what a funny and
lively person she truly was. Dominating the early portion of the film, this
footage is undeniable in that it highlights Winehose as so damn charming and
talented, that it's no wonder she became so famous.
The
second half of the movie is of course far less joyous, focusing on the singer's
rather public and tragic descent into drug abuse. Kapadia's narrative as the
film's director is fairly clear, implying that once Winehouse started using
drugs, the people in her life who could've helped her didn't, instead often
encouraging her actions. The primary culprits in the eyes of this film? Her
on-and-off boyfriend and eventually husband Blake, and her father Mitch.
Blake
is portrayed as a freeloader riding on Winehouse's coattails at the peak of her
fame, a man who successfully prevents her from finishing her stints in rehab
even while serving as the inspiration for many of the songs in her masterpiece
album, Back to Black.
Then
you have her father, a slimy-looking guy to begin with, who really seems to be
the root of everything. He was
an unfaithful husband to Winehouse's mother, and he was seemingly an absent
father until his daughter's career took off, at which point he was all too
happy to join in on the fame-grab. At one point, Amy shows Mitch following his daughter on
a rehab trip to a remote island, cameras in tow as he seeks footage for his own
reality TV show.
For
as manipulative as Amy makes these men out to be, though, the
film itself is obviously edited fairly manipulatively in its own right. And
that's something of a problem. There's no question that Mitch and Blake were
scumbags -- a simple online search can prove that -- but this direction feels
somewhat reductive given the very complex issues of depression and addiction,
not to mention the difficulties of celebrity, fame and media attention. To boil
Winehouse's demise down to a few instigators feels a bit wrong.
That
glaring issue aside, the movie is still a must-see for most any music fan.
Betwen rare audio cuts and intimate recording-session video clips, AMY provides an up-close look into the
creative process. More important, it gives audiences an inside glimpse into the
tragic life of a talented and charming woman who passed away too soon.
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