It begins with a South London girl and her friends. It’s somebody’s birthday, and they’re all singing, but this one girl in particular commands attention. She’s got the kind of natural, unfiltered talent that comes all too rarely—when she sings, you listen. This is the kind of moment in which the girl, Amy Winehouse, feels the most alive, and Amy, the stunning 2015 documentary on the late artist directed by Asif Kapadia, has its fair share of such moments. They’re necessary, given the cruelly judgmental lens that the media tended to show Winehouse through during her life and given her tragic, untimely fate. Amy is a film interested in understanding its subject, and while it inevitably lingers on the heartbreaking struggle she went through in her final years, it accomplishes the challenging task of portraying her more as a human than a sensation.

Why Are They Making an Amy Winehouse Biopic?

Biopics tend to be plagued with a crisis of an existential level, too often not warranting their own existence beyond being a quick cash grab, and too often such biopics do a disservice to the real-life figures they mean to portray. 2022’s Blonde arrived to an exceptional level of controversy surrounding the film’s abrasive and arguably exploitative portrayal of Marilyn Monroe. Bohemian Rhapsody scrubs clean the image of Freddie Mercury to the point of utter banality. Stardust does the same with David Bowie.

Given the shoddy reputation of biopics, it’s unsurprising that, when photos of the upcoming Winehouse biopic Back to Black surfaced online, a landslide of backlash ensued. Fans and critics have been condemning the very existence of the biopic and the outright lack of resemblance between Winehouse and star Marisa Abela. One tweet, captioning the photos with “this is fucking revolting” has amassed over 35,000 likes, and many more have weighed in with similar criticisms of the biopic’s first images. The complaints around the fictionalized very un-Winehouse Winehouse, though valid and well-aimed, are somewhat beside the point. What, if anything, could such a picture possibly add to the conversation about the icon, besides contributing further to the sensationalism that pervaded the years leading up to her death? The short answer: nothing. Pretty much anything you’d want to know about Winehouse’s life can be found through her music, and through Amy.

Amy (2015) - Amy WInehouse and friend singing
Image Via Altitude Film Distribution

'Amy' Reveals a Tender, Intimate Portrait of an Artist and a Woman

Moments like the previously mentioned birthday party—in which Winehouse reveals a damn impressive set of pipes—play the necessary role of contrasting the coverage of the scandals that she undeservedly became most known for in the public eye. If the perception of Winehouse as a drug-addled rockstar whose life was one of unmatched volatility is an indelible part of her legacy, Amy thankfully succeeds in conveying the complexity of such a side of the singer. Her tendency towards scandalous behavior comes from a place of suffering, and even while feeling occasionally voyeuristic, Amy does right by its subject by lending more empathy than fascination.

Amy acknowledges the inherent complexities not only of Winehouse the artist but also of Winehouse the woman. She may have been rowdy, and self-destructive, but she was also kind, witty, and intelligent. She phones friends with clarity of mind to tell them that she loves them. She snaps back with clever retorts during live interviews. She reacts with great humility when she wins much-deserved awards for her music. When she says “I can’t believe this,” I absolutely believe it. It’s all these moments and more that make Amy such a powerful and lasting document of the singer’s life. 2021’s documentary film Roadrunner mostly serves as a fitting testament to Anthony Bourdain, but before long it too frequently steers towards understanding his death in a way that feels investigative, even exploitative. Biopics like Walk the Line show the undeniable struggles faced by the subject, but they also show their perseverance. Johnny Cash lived a long, storied life, and his struggles with marital fidelity and substance abuse, though tragic in their own right, lead to a spectacular redemption. Amy Winehouse, who only lived to be 27 years old, left this world far too soon. Her story is one burdened with pain, but it's also one blessed with beauty.

Amy succeeds in portraying its subject because it doesn't forget such beauty. The struggles with mental illness and substance abuse may have shaped much of Winehouse's life, but they didn't define her. The documentary knows this, and it's why it ends, after facing the star's untimely demise, with footage of her at her most lively. She’s there, full of life, an uncompromising personality that very much could not be replicated. About halfway through the film, footage of Winehouse walking around the city suddenly slows down. It lingers on her, eyes closed, basking in the sunlight. It’s a beautiful, peaceful moment that shows this iconic artist as a human being. It’s the Amy we should remember.

Amy Winehouse in Documentary Amy (2015)
Image Via Altitude Film Distribution

'Amy' Keeps Its Focus on the Icon Instead of the Drama

In Amy, her husband, Blake Fielder, and her father, Mitchell Winehouse​​​​​​, are both shown to be insensitive, manipulative men, but neither is portrayed as an outright villain. The movie isn't about them. It's Amy's picture, and they're merely playing a part in it. They may be necessary parts in Winehouse’s story, and Amy knows better than to completely gloss over their part in her life, but it also avoids focusing too heavily on any drama or intrigue that results from their input in her life. In properly understanding the singer, and inadequately paying tribute to her, some dark and unpleasant material will unavoidably be covered. Still, Amy keeps its focus tightly on its subject, with archival footage of Amy throughout her life taking up the vast majority of the film.

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The narration coming from interviews with Winehouse's loved ones works at piecing together her life without relying too much on mere speculation. These are people that would know her better than most, and what they're offering in Amy are anecdotes, glimpses into her life as it once was. Lifelong friends and collaborators weigh in on her captivating personality, while others (Yasiin Bey, Questlove, and Mark Ronson make up a few of the more famous names) also stress the magnitude of Winehouse's presence as a performer. Amy dips into the substance abuse problems that led to a rapid decline in Winehouse's health, but the film manages to avoid sensationalizing them. We see moments of Winehouse being too intoxicated to perform, and we see snapshots of her under the influence of various drugs, but these aren't shown as moments of spectacle. They aren't meant to be seen as the so-called bottom of her spiral, but as logical parts of her struggle. Friends recount memories in which her behavior was concerning, but the lurid details are often left out.

Towards the end of Amy, Winehouse records a duet of "Body and Soul" with her idol Tony Bennett. She stops in self-conscious dissatisfaction with her performance. "I don't want to waste your time," she says to Bennett sheepishly, in a moment of utter vulnerability. He softly urges her on with fatherly patience. It's a single scene that encapsulates many traits of what made Winehouse who she was: emotional, humble, and supremely talented.

Amy Winehouse Deserves to Be Remembered in the Right Way

Amy Winehouse’s story is worth telling. It’s worth hearing. It’s a story of tremendous talent, unexpected success, and heartbreaking tragedy. Amy tells it as it should be told, truthful and empathetic. It asks for sympathy for an artist—and a woman—who was unfairly treated by the same entertainment industry that gave her her success. When shaky digital footage of Winehouse doing menial tasks, like leaving her home, is made almost indiscernible by the relentless flash of paparazzi camera bulbs, it's impossible not to sympathize with her inability to live peacefully.

Amy Winehouse deserves to be listened to. She deserves to be seen, and she deserves to be remembered. No biopic will do her justice. The sensation that was Amy Winehouse, perhaps, can be captured through the spectacle of performance, but that would only be more of the same thing, with all the blinding camera flashes, the cruel and half-assed jokes at her expense, and the exploitation of her talent. Her music is potent enough to speak for itself, but Amy shows that there was always so much more there than anybody was able to see.