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Anthony McIntyre ðŸŽ¥ She died at that black age which has seen quite a few from her industry check out to the huge disappointment and grief of their fans and those who loved them.

I am not sure what the data says in respect of other lines of business but celebrity brings with it a publicity that the more anonymous forms of work are not exposed to. Maybe the same proportion of butchers, barbers and bakers are also confronted with the early delete button but we don't get to hear about it. The rest grow old but celebrities who die at 27 remain forever young. No different for Amy Winehouse.

Recently, I planted myself on the settee, bottle of alcohol-free beer in my hand - FAI Cup final day in November will see a resumption of normal activities - to watch Back To Black. Directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson, the movie's principal character is played by Marisa Abela. Even before it had made landfall the detractors were not spinning their wheels as they decried the destructive impulse they saw driving its production.

Given the vulture-like efficiency with which her life was picked over, it's near-impossible to think of a sincere reason to make a movie about Winehouse – at least not one that isn't motivated by greed.

In the world in which we live business is profit driven. Companies are businesses not charities. Yet it seems uncharitable to reduce to the unidimensional profit motive the many strands fuelling creative juices. Back To Black captured Amy Winehouse as my ears and ears had filtered her. A beehive of brilliance from which swarmed a primordial lava that could leave both natural beauty and a path of destruction in its wake. 

From I first encountered her music I loved it. Her voice was Sinatraesque in its quality and distinctiveness. Once described as "an amazing contradiction in every way . . . the world’s leading train wreck." she is depicted in Back To Black not as contradictory but as troubled. The noise of the train wreck should not be allowed to drown out the beautiful glider that Amy Winehouse was nor the heights she soared to prior to her vocal chords losing their perennial battle with her gullet.

From a Jewish background, Amy demonstrated an independent spirit throughout her life, frustrating the insistence of the record company that changes be made to her first Album Frank prior to release in the US. Back to Black not only avoids sculpting Amy in the way that Sinead O'Connor was invented rather than recreated, it also rescues Blake Fielder-Civil from the darkness so many were willing to cast him into. Two addicts who fell in love - her addiction booze, his cocaine. The life altering substances were going down her throat as quickly as they were going up his nose. Each, despite their mutual love, accelerated the decline of the other. 

Upon release, the film received a mixed reception with many thinking it avoided delving deeply enough into substance abuse or that it allowed people other than the paparazzi to escape scrutiny. For the casual viewer who simply wants to sit down and be reminded of a great artist and her works, it passes the smell test.

Nothing was lost in the decision by Marisa Abela to use her own voice rather than sync her lines, a brave decision given the potential for ridicule had it have hit the ear in a way not recognisable to fans.

And yet it is neither the voice of Marisa Abela or Amy Winehouse that is playing the chords of my mind while writing. Rather those of Pink Floyd which my son is blaring in his room: Shine On You Crazy Diamond.

⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.

Back To Black

Anthony McIntyre ðŸŽ¥ She died at that black age which has seen quite a few from her industry check out to the huge disappointment and grief of their fans and those who loved them.

I am not sure what the data says in respect of other lines of business but celebrity brings with it a publicity that the more anonymous forms of work are not exposed to. Maybe the same proportion of butchers, barbers and bakers are also confronted with the early delete button but we don't get to hear about it. The rest grow old but celebrities who die at 27 remain forever young. No different for Amy Winehouse.

Recently, I planted myself on the settee, bottle of alcohol-free beer in my hand - FAI Cup final day in November will see a resumption of normal activities - to watch Back To Black. Directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson, the movie's principal character is played by Marisa Abela. Even before it had made landfall the detractors were not spinning their wheels as they decried the destructive impulse they saw driving its production.

Given the vulture-like efficiency with which her life was picked over, it's near-impossible to think of a sincere reason to make a movie about Winehouse – at least not one that isn't motivated by greed.

In the world in which we live business is profit driven. Companies are businesses not charities. Yet it seems uncharitable to reduce to the unidimensional profit motive the many strands fuelling creative juices. Back To Black captured Amy Winehouse as my ears and ears had filtered her. A beehive of brilliance from which swarmed a primordial lava that could leave both natural beauty and a path of destruction in its wake. 

From I first encountered her music I loved it. Her voice was Sinatraesque in its quality and distinctiveness. Once described as "an amazing contradiction in every way . . . the world’s leading train wreck." she is depicted in Back To Black not as contradictory but as troubled. The noise of the train wreck should not be allowed to drown out the beautiful glider that Amy Winehouse was nor the heights she soared to prior to her vocal chords losing their perennial battle with her gullet.

From a Jewish background, Amy demonstrated an independent spirit throughout her life, frustrating the insistence of the record company that changes be made to her first Album Frank prior to release in the US. Back to Black not only avoids sculpting Amy in the way that Sinead O'Connor was invented rather than recreated, it also rescues Blake Fielder-Civil from the darkness so many were willing to cast him into. Two addicts who fell in love - her addiction booze, his cocaine. The life altering substances were going down her throat as quickly as they were going up his nose. Each, despite their mutual love, accelerated the decline of the other. 

Upon release, the film received a mixed reception with many thinking it avoided delving deeply enough into substance abuse or that it allowed people other than the paparazzi to escape scrutiny. For the casual viewer who simply wants to sit down and be reminded of a great artist and her works, it passes the smell test.

Nothing was lost in the decision by Marisa Abela to use her own voice rather than sync her lines, a brave decision given the potential for ridicule had it have hit the ear in a way not recognisable to fans.

And yet it is neither the voice of Marisa Abela or Amy Winehouse that is playing the chords of my mind while writing. Rather those of Pink Floyd which my son is blaring in his room: Shine On You Crazy Diamond.

⏩Follow on Twitter @AnthonyMcIntyre.
Anthony McIntyre Film Review

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