“When somebody tells you who they are, believe them.” Sure, that’s just common sense. Well then, what about when somebody sings about who they are? Have you ever listened to the lyrics of “Rehab,” the best-selling song in the history of Amy Winehouse?
[Chorus]
They tried to make me go to rehab, but I said, “No, no, no”
Yes, I’ve been black, but when I come back, you’ll know, know, know
I ain’t got the time and if my daddy thinks I’m fine
He’s tried to make me go to rehab, but I won’t go, go, go
It’s pretty obvious Amy Winehouse did not fabricate the personality that wrote this song, yes? In other words, by the time she wrote this, she had been to rehab enough times to know how to fake it with her father. That’s an addict. Plain and simple.
Back to Black, the Amy Winehouse biopic du jour, gave us only one *brief* rehab stint, and held back “Rehab” until the end credits, which does a massive disservice to the truth, timeline wise. Let me put this another way: suppose you were watching a biopic of OJ Simpson which got through USC, the NFL, marriage, un-marriage and his golf-and-book career, even allowing OJ to die peacefully while withholding that whole “double murder thing” until the very end. Would that give you an accurate picture of who OJ is?
That’s how Back to Black feels to me.
Among other things, director Sam Taylor-Johnson chose to make Amy Winehouse (Marisa Abela, who, impressively, does her own singing here as well) a symbol of abstinence. That’s quite a choice, no? Amy Winehouse died at the age of 27 [spoilers!] from alcohol poisoning. It didn’t come out of the blue. Her bodyguard found her intoxicated days earlier. And, oh yeah, she was an alcoholic, and a pretty good one; I think she could have had a pro career as a sot.
She was also an extremely talented songwriter with one of the greatest voices ever to find a mass audience. These things can all be true at the same time. So, film, pretending that Amy Winehouse was an advocate of a clean lifestyle (she’s says “no” to cocaine several times in the film) and was really keeping it together when one bad piece of news sent her off the wagon and into an alcohol-induced death kinda does us a disservice. A massive disservice.
But, hey, let’s hear more about Blake (Jack O’Connell).
There’s A LOT of Blake in this film. We have their meetcute, his influence over her, her theft of Blake from his GF, and their up-and-down party scenes. We also get his erratic behavior, his prison milieu, his perspective on divorce, and her absolute devotion to this train-wreck of a human being. I mean,
when you attend the concerts of your very talented other half, it might do to NOT leave midway and go do drugs in the alley. When you’re showing up in public for the very first time as Mr. Amy Winehouse, maybe do better than sporting a wife-beater and a beer. I dunno. I can tell you this: that part of this biopic seems 100% accurate to me.
The saddest part about this celebration of Amy Winehouse is the missing scene of performer rejoice … the moment when a performer -any performer- realizes they have public approval and fame will follow. No film did this better than That Thing You Do! And I have to say that no film did this worse than Back to Black. Not only is that emotional display completely missing; such emotional outpouring seems not to be part of Amy’s makeup. Upon the realization that Amy Winehouse has the ear of record producers, she offers zero humility, zero exuberance, and immediately starts making demands of the people in control of her fate. Ummm, ok. This may be 100% accurate, for which my follow-up question is, “Why do we care about her again?” I mean, yes, she was extremely talented, but it sounds a great deal like she was also an asshole.
Back to Black tried hard to hide Amy’s ogres and flaunt Amy’s vulnerability. I get that. Sure, this is a love letter. There’s even an explanation of how Amy Winehouse only got drunk for the paparazzi, because that’s what they want to see. Is this the story you tell yourselves? Do you believe it when you tell it? How about Amy’s band? A lot of talented musicians relied on an extremely unreliable lead; we hear none of their stories. To me, the most remarkable thing in this mumble-worthy effort is the part where Amy Winehouse owns a pet canary. Ah, here’s MY metaphor (not sure it was the movie metaphor): Amy Winehouse is her own coal mine and the canary is our outward signal that the Amy mine is gonna collapse. It’s strangely both symbolic and satisfying to see the canary gone by the end of the film.
♪They tried to make me like this picture, but I said, “No, no, no”
Amy can sing, and mixes her thing with blow, blow, blow
Making out like she’s a saint, only one word comes to mine … “ain’t”
They tried to make me like this picture, and I’m like “whoa, whoa whoa” ♫
Rated R, 122 Minutes
Director: Sam Taylor-Johnson
Writer: Matt Greenhalgh
Genre: She could sing… she could definitely sing
Type of being most likely to enjoy this film: Amy Winehouse apologists
Type of being least likely to enjoy this film: Realists
♪ Parody Inspired by “Rehab”
