Kapadia’s “Amy” considers late singer

Cinema | August 5th, 2015

Employing the same skillful arrangement of archival resources that fueled his motorsports bio “Senna,” filmmaker Asif Kapadia assembles a heartfelt portrait of British soul-jazz-pop vocalist Amy Winehouse, the electrifying star who died at the age of 27 in 2011 of alcohol poisoning.

Appearing only a few years after Winehouse’s death, the movie is both snapshot and obituary, celebrating the achievements of a unique voice and lamenting the toll of drug abuse, bulimia and the pressures of fame on a young person. Whether one is a major fan or knows little about Winehouse, Kapadia’s work is expansive and respectful.

Kapadia’s straightforward style occasionally veers toward “Behind the Music” flourishes, and as a film, “Amy” is less artistically adventurous than Brett Morgen’s “Kurt Cobain: Montage of Heck.” Both movies share intimate glimpses into the lives of their subjects and make public material originally intended to be private. From home video of a 14-year-old Winehouse singing at close friend Lauren Gilbert’s birthday party to audio recordings of cell phone voicemail, Kapadia fills out “Amy” without the need to resort to ponderous talking heads (although many interviews were collected for the film and a small number of figures do speak directly on camera).

The viewer’s regret at the loss of Winehouse’s prodigious talent is exacerbated by several of those closest to her professionally and personally, and Kapadia doesn’t need to do much for the audience to imagine Winehouse’s father Mitch, Winehouse’s husband Blake Fielder-Civil, and Winehouse’s manager Raye Cosbert as three predatory enablers who feasted on Winehouse’s success (the media mostly get a pass this round). While any number of press reports emerging at the time of Winehouse’s death exonerated Cosbert — like Adam Sherwin and Rob Sharp’s story in “The Independent” that claimed “Cosbert was regarded within the music industry as a stabilising influence on the singer” — Kapadia at least implies the rough charge that paychecks trump wellness when the stakes are high.

Even though “Amy” shares the unfortunate, wrenching spectacle of Winehouse’s disastrous appearance at what was to be the start of a European tour in Belgrade in June of 2011, Kapadia primarily uses music throughout the film to demonstrate his subject’s incredible gifts.

While the documentary focuses more on the trajectory of Winehouse’s short career in terms of her personal struggles than on the details of her songcraft and recording sessions, there are a handful of impressive performance clips that show the singer at her finest and not at her nadir. Onscreen text highlighting Winehouse’s painfully personal lyrics illuminates the devastating parallels between life and art.

It is almost impossible not to read “Amy” on some level as a cautionary tale and an indictment of a system that exploits artists as commodities to be groomed and controlled, packaged and consumed. Kapadia cranks the volume whenever the flashes pop and the shutters click, underscoring the feeding frenzy of rapacious paparazzi hounding Winehouse any time she leaves her home. Interestingly, the director omits the anecdote that sees Winehouse awarded an injunction against harassing photographers, a small battle won in a war she ultimately lost.

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