While you were watching the Oilers win game seven, I was at the movies taking in the tragic life of Amy Winehouse at Chinook Theatre. The best part was the phenomenal job done by Marisa Abela in the role. You really did pick up the veracity in Amy’s outlandish visceral personality but more astonishingly was the closeness in resembling her vocals – native accent aside.
The pundits of course are sounding off by the film’s shortcomings but the scene where she meets Blake is in and of itself worth the price of admission. Wouldn’t you all want to be as coy when by happenstance encounter a rising star sitting solo in a bar?
The striking affinity folks had with Winehouse was not only her amazing voice but her flaw filled persona from which fans found identify. The day labourer in us all sees a woman operating intuitively from instinct unbeknownst to consequences whilst we put fantasy first in a drama documentary pleading for an ultimate denouement other than her fate. Thankfully we were spared of a scene portraying her untimely death.
Marisa had spent months training her voice for this. Movie critics are all caught up in chronology, accuracy, and exploitation while missing the key success ingredient of the film, that being an Amy Winehouse characterization. The tragedy is worthy of publicity because her life and times were distinctive, emotionally wrought, colourful while dark, with lessons sewn sweepingly as her picturesque head dress.