Amy was a sad musical documentary that seemed to fulfill hopes of post-mortem cash than liberate the singer. It wasn’t that it was bad, it’s just you could feel how alone Amy Winehouse was and this film shows how alone she still is.
This film had a striking resemblance to another one that’s close to my heart, Heaven Adores You by NY director Nickolas Rossi. In this documentary, Elliot Smith goes through a similar battle with depression, addiction, and music. Both Smith and Winehouse relate to music in a way that seems to free them from the torments of their world. Their relationship with music comes to a strain as they struggle to handle fame in a downward spiral.
I couldn’t help but notice that the two singers seemed happiest just before their award show peaks. Perhaps the allure of fame is best for the misfits who turn to loving art as a supplement for failed interpersonal relationships, which would speak loudly for our collective culture’s celebrity obsession.
I watched Amy, went to the bathroom and walked into a later movie by accident. It felt like witnessed a parallel universe inside another theater. Inside the wrong theater I found relativity and witness the similarity of human experience. Seeing everyone’s eyes separate from desire, I felt what it’s like to be free and know that everything is as it should be.
And everything faded back to black.