Lofty highs and tragic lows of life of Amy laid bare in film

There could hardly be a more perfect title for Asif Kapadia’s Amy Winehouse documentary than Amy. Perhaps the film’s world premiere in France, at the Cannes Film Festival last week helped draw out its special resonance, but the name’s French root – aimée, meaning beloved – is heartbreakingly appropriate.

Kapadia’s film is many things: a Sherlockian reconstruction of Winehouse’s arcing path across the skies of stardom, a commemoration of her colossal talent, and a moving tribute to a brilliant, witty, vivacious young woman gone far too soon.

But above all, it is a perceptive examination of the singer’s need for love – from her friends, family, colleagues, husband and public – and the ways in which that need went unmet, or was exploited, at the times it ached in her the most.

The film tells the story, in strict chronological order, of Winehouse’s life and career, and it soon becomes clear, the two are inseparable. It begins with her as a teenager, driving around Britain with her first manager, childhood friend Nick Shymansky, from gig to gig in poky jazz clubs, and we see the initial success of her debut album Frank, the eureka moment of Back to Black, and the burnout and decline that followed.

Like Kapadia’s previous documentary, the Bafta-winning Senna, Amy is a patchwork quilt stitched from home movies, concert videos, news footage, camcorded holiday memories, snatched paparazzi shots and selfies.

While the quality of the footage in Senna was mostly very high – Formula 1 cameramen have a duty to capture every last engine-roar and tyre-swerve – here the images are spiky and raw. Their sometimes amateurish look gives the sense we are seeing this extraordinary human tragedy play out in real time. We feel that eyes – including our own – are pressing in on Winehouse from all sides, by turns adoring, scrutinising and voyeuristic.

In early photographs, we see pages from Winehouse’s diary filled with autobiographical poetry and, as you read the words, you can imagine them being sung in that big, velvety, whisky-rich voice.

When her songs appear in the film, Kapadia ingeniously runs their lyrics on-screen like subtitles, and you’re frequently startled by how the words match up with the images from her life. Her problems with drink and drugs, and the pressure she felt to live up to her father’s and husband’s ambitions for her, were all hiding in plain sight.

The famous couplet from Rehab, “I ain’t got the time, and if my daddy thinks I’m fine,” takes on heavy significance when you hear it shortly after the revelation Winehouse’s father, Mitch, advised her not to attend a drying-out facility during her increasingly alcohol-soaked three years between albums.

Since most of the archive material was shot at the peak of Winehouse’s fame, it’s naturally back-loaded. Her problems with crack cocaine and self-harm are spelled out in detail, but there are holes in her early life – you never quite understand where or how that slide began. — The Daily Telegraph

lThe late singer-songwriter’s father Mitch Winehouse has harshly criticised the film, and it was reported he wanted to seek legal action.

“It wasn’t the intention to upset anyone, but just to show what was going on in her life,” Asif Kapadia has responded.

The author of Back to Black and Rehab died of alcohol poisoning at 27 at her north London home in 2011.