Worth: $10.00
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Cast:
Marisa Abela, Jack O'Connell, Lesley Manville, Eddie Marsan, Sam Buchanan
Intro:
… offers only a dim imitation of the vibrant star at its core.
If Asif Kapadia’s (brilliant) 2015 documentary, Amy, offered a window into Amy Winehouse’s rich inner life, upbringing, influences and relationships, Sam Taylor-Johnson’s biopic Back to Black provides a comparatively lacklustre summary of the star’s years in the public eye.
The film follows the acclaimed but troubled British vocalist (played by Marisa Abela) from the beginning of her musical career until her untimely death by alcohol poisoning at age 27. It limns her fiery relationship with the charmingly caddish Blake Fielder-Civil (Jack O’Connell) and her subsequent introduction into the world of hard drugs. Tormented by addiction and a relentless trail of paparazzi, the frail young singer totters through the film in sky-high stilettos, perpetually on the brink of collapse.
Early in Back to Black there are glimmers of Amy’s creative process, fervent passion, wry wit and friendships. We glimpse her writing songs on the guitar in her bedroom and grooving down the street in hoop earrings and wired earphones. Later, she bonds with her future manager Nick Shymansky (Sam Buchanan) in a pub and runs around town getting tattoos with rambunctious friends. While scenes such as these provide insight into the breadth of Amy’s character, they punctuate an otherwise narrow depiction of the songstress.
Amy and Blake’s tumultuous, mercurial love-affair consumes much of the narrative, but reduces both of them to caricatures: Amy is (by and large) pitifully lovestruck and Blake is cruel and fame-hungry, enabling her addiction, leaving, and returning only to exploit her celebrity. The film places Blake at the centre of all Amy’s desire and suffering, the caustic inspiration for every song, but his lack of depth as a character makes him only a two-dimensional villain. Amy’s father Mitch Winehouse (Eddie Marsan) plays another large part in the film, but he is similarly over-simplified. Curiously swinging from indifferent to supportive, he long denies her addiction, then suddenly agrees to take her to a rehabilitation centre.
Amy’s struggle with substance use stakes out the remainder of the film’s runtime. In blurry, skewed-angle shots, she woozily overindulges in crack cocaine and alcohol, stumbling down Camden’s rain-sluiced streets wearing filthy ballet flats. Unfortunately, these scenes’ clichéd visual style lends them an eerie sheen of detachment, as though re-enacting the very tabloid images that the film claims to condemn.
While the performances are solid, Abela making an admirable attempt to imitate the singer’s iconic voice and gestures, Back to Black’s script and plotline ultimately disappoint. Reducing Winehouse’s legacy to addiction and heartbreak, this grim portrait by Taylor-Johnson offers only a dim imitation of the vibrant star at its core.
