Samantha Taylor-Johnson’s film ‘Back to Black’ raises the same question that the fans of Amy Winehouse are asking: What the hell is this? The Camden bred burlesque singer, played here by Marisa Abela, used to say: I’m just one of the girls. In just a span of few words, she was a charming, witty, down to earth, and when she was singing, which was quite often, her voice was irrefutably captivating. It is also well known that those who remember Amy will, for sure, also remember how she practically battled with substance abuse and the media that practically stalked her until her death due to alcohol poisoning at age 27 in the summer of 2011.
It begins after the success of Frank in 2003, and continues through the period of the titular album’s explosive success in 2006. But those expecting, say, to see a more of an intimate portrayal of Amy, or an in depth exploration of her as a musician, should probably manage their expectations. Taylor-Johnson’s film, written by Matt Greenhalgh is about Amy the addict, so I cannot describe ‘Back to Black’ as a biopic, simply put, it has not fully explored the character.
When watching a musician’s biographical drama film, it is safe to say that perhaps the audience’s attention will be on the music. If ‘Back to Black’ does have lot of performances showcasing some of Aimee’s greater hits, they are mainly there as background noise or as something to feel sorry for rather than main texture. They seem, in some ways, rather weak in the film as the focus appears to be more on the singer and less on her trauma. The director spends practically no time at all on the actual creation of either one of the records. The script’s setting and construction are far more rudiment than they should have been. There are guitar/somewriting days and Mark Ronson’s name in the credits.
“Back to Black” is not how it should be viewed, standing in Amy’s legacy. The film does not allow people unfamiliar with her work to appreciate her stature. It does not display her adoring local and national fans and how her popularity developed into American sensibilities. It fails to include any of the factors that made Amy and her music a hit. The movie hardly deals with her actual career. Because of this, we are left with a kaleidoscopic barrage of self-destructive romance, drug use and bad tattooing.
The on-stage struggles are there to depict issues of sobriety or the pain of missing her on and off husband, Blake (Jack O’Connell). One of the only few sequences we get from the recording sessions for Back to Black is when she cries singing the title track, saying ‘he’s killed me’ only to end at a point where she is an archetype of drug abuse. The narrative of her addiction, the central focus of this otherwise weak film never receives any narrative treatment it’s just something that takes place off-screen. It is commented with the unnecessary speed it deserves because the film feels we all already know it occurs.
Abela does a commendable job in her pursuit of portraying Amy on stage, her banal stabbing attempts at throwing the singer’s nuances into her performance.
It is important, though, to point out that gesture cannot stand alone, and there is always a deliberate distortion to her image. The voice of Amy Winehouse was almost as famous as her charisma and charm, whereas Abela was hell bent on imitating the former’s style while delivering a pale imitation combined with a thick accent which was completely out of her league.
If one views Amy’s drug abuse as a defining trait and visualization of a character in a film, then there is more to worry about as it was the script’s viewpoint where the character’s downfall was fated since the beginning and attempted resolution of her arcs later on in the story revolved around destiny as well. Each time she delicately reaches for a bottle of wine, it feels like a sly smile designed to ‘roll the credits’. Ever since the film starts, Amy just has to be a homewrecker, two faced, charming hussy who destroys love lives and is destined to be heartbroken herself. Blake is treated as though he is merely collateral damage from Amy’s wild psychic onrush and her father is depicted as an impotent and unrealistic supporter even though a plain account of events would suggest otherwise. It is incorrect to place entire blame on these two men but neither the consent nor aggravation of Amy’s weaknesses is adequate in the context of the history’s standards.
This confused and directionless mess of a character who goes by the name of Amy is accompanied by music that is not an important part of the storyline when it should. This makes one ponder as to: What was this film meant to achieve?
Looking at the past pornographic culture through the eyes of 2024, there is a realization that Amy also had her share of regretful instances, and it is only repugnant to think that this was all exploitation. We criticize it in the case of Britney and hope for better the next time. While it may be reasonable to presume that there at least is some honor left behind for Winehouse because of how her story would be remembered, expectations should not rise too high for that. Even if Taylor-Johnson directs scenes that are crafted to appear more in contempt of the aggressive paps who invade Amy’s space, the end product of the film does not vary. It is extremely clear that this story has excessive romanticism, which is both disturbing and shielding. Almost everything that she tends to make fun of is what the story that she has chosen relies on in the first place. The point of her film does not change as it is about the suffering that Amy bears whilst battling her addiction; there is no compassion about the subject only opportunism. It makes the whole point of complete disregard for the artistry and speaks to Amy’s being as suggestive as possible.
It is no surprise that “Back to Black” defines its subject matter completely and it creates a stereotype of Amy Winehouse because all her songs would be interpreted one way as a depiction of her “getting high” and how her heart was chronically broken.
It ruthlessly robs her of any sense of self or any human qualities, placing her as nothing but a sorrow all wrapped in an album cover. While there’s no denying the fact that Amy’s biography and her struggle with addiction are inseparable, reducing it to such an extent that it overshadows womanhood and ignores all the facets of her character is a rather disruptive narrative.
As for the admirers that adulate her, this picture brings tears for complicated reasons and for any of the genuine close ones she’s now deserted, the effect comes out as terribly painful. The “Back to Black” track features the same dialogue it began with towards the end as over the credits Amy says, “I want to be remembered as a singer, I want my voice to be remembered.” According to Mary Wroblewski, however, ‘the image’ is only a minority aspect of the film, therefore, her voice is also not memorable.
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