Back to Black

Amy Winehouse’s life is fictionalised in Back to Black directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson, exhuming all the traumas and distasteful stories, when the musician should just be allowed to rest in peace.

Everything about Back to Black oozes discomfort, a fictionalised biopic about Amy Winehouse directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson, whose last directed biopic, Nowhere Boy (2009), was about John Lennon and introduced her to her now-husband Aaron Taylor-Johnson.

Coincidentally, Back to Black and Nowhere Boy both open in the same way: our musical protégé running to lofty music removed from its context in the film, inviting audiences to wonder whether they’re running from their problems or their fans, or, if indeed, one fuels the other.

Of course, Winehouse’s problems are well documented. The singer, who died aged 27 from alcohol poisoning in 2011, struggled with drugs and drinking, a subject perpetually mocked and exploited by the British press. Well illustrated in Asif Kapadia’s Oscar-winning documentary Amy (2015), it is Kapadia’s archive-rich tapestry of Winehouse that audiences are likely to compare with Back to Black, contrasting the way the Oscar-winning film offers a perspective of father Mitch Winehouse and partner Blake Fielder (now Fielder-Civil). In Kapadia’s documentary, Mr Winehouse and Fielder are demonstrated by their voice testimonials in archive material, suggesting their complicity in Winehouse’s struggles.

Since the film’s release, Mitch has been on record regarding his distaste of Kapadia’s documentary , so it is of no surprise that Back to Black comes with the full backing of The Winehouse Estate, fronted by Mitch, and for whose on-screen persona, played by Eddie Marsan is delivered as saintly.

Amy Winehouse, on the other hand, is played by 27-year-old Marisa Abela. The parallel between Winehouse’s age when she died, and Abela’s is a subtle ode to the singer and adds a level of authenticity to the performance. However, its Jack O’Connell who triumphs, where like Blake Fielder, his scene-stealing enigmatic charisma, convincingly sells his emotionally consuming grip over Winehouse. Though, it is worth noting that Back to Black absolves Fielder of being the man to pressure Amy into Class A substances despite his numerous admissions as the one to introduce her to heroin.

However, despite a strong performance from O’Connell and a supporting but fleeting role from Lesley Manville as Amy’s grandmother, Cynthia, the direction is wholly lacklustre, as though executed by a student for their film studies coursework to learn the fundamentals of cinema.

Where Back to Black could have served as a poetic reflection on Winehouse’s contributions to music and the exploitive relationship that the paparazzi had with her, instead, it focuses on the musician’s maternal desires, pinpointing her descent into addiction caused by her inability to conceive whilst her family dwindles around her.

Regardless of the cause, the result is the same. What, therefore, is this film trying to present, exhuming the performer and all of the hurt to tell a new perspective in 2024? All it brings to mind is when Mitch Winehouse presented the documentary My Daughter Amy (2010), flying himself and a camera crew to visit a drug-free Amy, thrusting her again into the limelight. Thankfully, Amy criticised her father and his documentary when it was shown on Channel 4. Still, in raising similar questions, Back to Black has a grim unauthenticity in what, or who, it’s trying to sympathise with.

Back to Black is in UK cinemas from 12 April.