Sam Taylor- Johnson’s Amy Winehouse biopic suffers from the factor that afflicts many musical biopics: it’s too linear and on -the-nose, with a Wikipedia approach to its subject. So it’s all laid down here in heart -breaking detail: everything that’s well-documented about the talented Londoner- from her closeness to glamorous nan Cynthia (brilliant as ever Lesley Manville) to her predilection for bad boys and struggles with bulimia and addiction. Some more of her humour and spirit would have been welcome- Winehouse was often hilarious.
Distractingly, Marisa Abela in the lead role looks more like a brunette Britney Spears than Winehouse, and lacks that gorgeous smoky contralto, but she has some of her presence, not to mention that raw combination of swagger and vulnerability. She does indeed “cry on the kitchen floor”, refuse rehab and cling to unsuitable junkie Blake Fielder- Civil. There’s great chemistry between the duo, particularly in their meet-not-so-cute in a Camden pub, and Jack O’ Connell is fine as her equal in destruction, but there’s little in the way of surprises or inventive storytelling.
The endless hounding by the paparazzi, drugged-up fights, and increasingly dishevelled performances are authentically rendered, but there’s nothing here to equal Taylor- Johnson’s superior Nowhere Boy, her vivid, moving portrayal of John Lennon and his pre- Beatles fame. Maddeningly too, Winehouse’s parents Janis and Mitch are merely treated as footnotes in Amy’s life, which is bizarre, given their influence, not least in the devastating effect of their divorce, or introducing her to jazz and blues. Ultimately, unlike the little firecracker Winehouse and her fight against fame’s pitfalls, the film pulls its punches, but is bolstered by some fine acting throughout.
Hit The North 