I remember the first time I heard Amy Winehouse. It was 2007 and I was a sophomore in college. I was hanging out in my dorm room in-between classes and jumped on my computer to kill some time. Links to a David Letterman performance flooded the Internet, and upon clicking one of the links I was immediately drawn to this skinny, retro-soul jazz singer in the polka dot dress. “Ladies and Gentlemen, Amy Winehouse,” Letterman exclaimed. Then she sang “Rehab.” In that moment, it was obvious that this girl was something special, but even then I knew that something wasn’t right. I think the world knew too.

Director Asif Kapadia brings Amy Winehouse’s infamous reputation and story to the big screen, but this time in Amy’s own words. The film relies solely on archival footage, most of which has never been released to the public before, as well as previously unheard songs and extensive voice over interviews with her family, friends, and management team.

It’s a heartbreaking watch; as brilliant an artist as she was, her troubled relationships and addictions led her down a dark path of self-destruction that she was unable to escape from.

Her voice is like a fierce wall of sound, evident by her rendition of “Happy Birthday” at 14. All Amy wanted in life was to be a jazz singer, playing in small nightclubs to an intimate group of people. She caught the attention of the jazz community almost immediately with her unforgettable voice and lively personality. She was an authentic artist, writing her own songs and giving in to extreme vulnerability during the songwriting process. The results of her hard work earned her six Grammys and legions of fans around the world.

The signs were there all along, as clear as they could be. Of course this is all in hindsight, which makes watching her rise and fall in the public eye all the more disturbing.

 

However, Amy didn’t want the attention, she just wanted to sing. In 2003 she gave an interview saying that she would never be famous. She seemed relieved at the thought of anonymity, adding, “I couldn’t handle fame.” How haunting those words seem now.

Kapadia doesn’t sugar coat any of Amy’s struggles, giving the audience a no holds barred look into the troubled life of an icon. At 9, she had already cut her wrists. When she was 13, she was diagnosed with depression. At 15, she had developed a full-fledged eating disorder, which her mom assured her she would grow out of. She never did. By the time she met Blake Fielder-Civil she was already drinking heavily, having to be wheelbarrowed home many nights, but it was Blake who introduced her to heroine, crack, and cocaine.

Her physical demeanor deteriorates as she becomes more off-course mentally, and watching her change so rapidly in front of our eyes is pretty graphic. As her weight plummets, her hair gets higher and eyeliner gets thicker. The sparkle in her eyes that we see in her early years of singing jazz is gone. What’s left is emptiness and sadness, a shell of her former self. Even after her Grammy win for Record of the Year, she admits to a friend, “This is so boring without drugs.”

What makes this film great is the level of trust Kapadia is able to reach with everyone involved in the film, therefore giving Amy its unique introspective. The feeling of guilt everyone expresses for how things unfolded is powerful. Looking back, we can spot so many chances for her to turn her life around, if only there was someone strong enough to tell her “No.” How could no one have prevented this? The signs were there all along, as clear as they could be. Of course this is all in hindsight, which makes watching her rise and fall in the public eye all the more disturbing.

The reaction in the screening room was unlike anything I have experienced before. I lost count of the number of audible gasps coming from the people around me. The older man sitting next to me was discretely trying to wipe tears from his eyes, but his uncontrollable sniffing gave him away. The room literally shook when she sang, but you could hear a pin drop when she stopped. Fans of the singer or not, it would be hard to leave the theatre without being emotionally moved and distraught when thinking about what could have been.

Amy Winehouse is a once-in-a-generation talent, and this documentary confirms it. The film runs over two hours, but I would have gladly sat for longer. A majority of her music is autobiographical, and after understanding the context of her lyrics and what went on behind the scenes, it will be hard to listen to her songs in the same way. What were once fun radio hits and karaoke choices, “Rehab” and “Back To Black” are just some of the songs that are heartbreaking for me to hear now. However, for as heavy-handed as this film comes across, we are left remembering a brilliant artist. It’s been almost 4 years since her untimely death at the age of 27, but with each passing year her musical legacy only continues to grow stronger.

Amy opens this Friday at the ArcLight Hollywood & Landmark Theaters with a national release July 10th.