When Amy Winehouse passed away at 27 in 2011, many felt the world had lost one of its greatest talents, someone who had only begun to show her full potential. The new biopic Back to Black—directed by Sam Taylor-Johnson and named after Winehouse’s iconic second album—aims to explore her turbulent life and musical contributions. The film traces Winehouse’s journey, portrayed by Marisa Abela, from her early career in early-2000s London to her rise to global fame. It highlights the objectification of female celebrities in modern media, even after their deaths.
At the height of Winehouse’s fame, gossip tabloids dominated the media landscape, helping create the notion of “trainwreck celebrities”—female stars publicly depicted as scandalous and frequently intoxicated. Alongside Winehouse, figures like Britney Spears, Lindsay Lohan, Paris Hilton, and Lily Allen were ridiculed on both sides of the Atlantic. Winehouse, after gaining fame with her 2003 debut album Frank, quickly earned this “trainwreck” label for being outspoken, performing while intoxicated, and being photographed leaving North London bars with her on-again, off-again lover and future husband, Blake Fielder-Civil.
Throughout her life, Winehouse resisted this form of control and commodification. She clashed with paparazzi and fought against efforts by her record label to push her into rehab, famously addressing it in her hit song. While Abela’s portrayal of Winehouse captures her voice and mannerisms, Back to Black ultimately fails to reshape the dominant narrative of Winehouse’s chaotic lifestyle, despite its initial attempts.
The film begins by focusing on Winehouse’s songwriting talent and performances, showcasing her disdain for fame and money. Both the film’s opening and closing emphasize her desire to create music that helps others forget their troubles, with her stating that she wanted to be remembered for her singing and authenticity.
Winehouse’s distinctive style plays a key role in the film’s visual storytelling. Her iconic beehive, thick eyeliner, Fred Perry polos, skinny jeans, and signature pink satin ballet flats (which gained infamy after being seen bloodied in paparazzi photos following a public fight in 2007) are all used to convey her personal identity. The film uses her changing appearance to reflect her physical and mental decline, opting to symbolize her bulimia and drug abuse through increasingly disheveled clothes and hair rather than showing the harsh realities of her health struggles.
While these style moments serve as a reminder of the relentless media harassment Winehouse endured, Back to Black doesn’t escape the same exploitation it aims to critique. It falls into the trap of reinforcing the “trainwreck” image the tabloids created, relying on familiar visuals instead of offering a fresh portrayal of her life.
As a biopic, the film attempts to reclaim Winehouse from victimhood, yet it reduces her complexity to a series of episodes focused on suffering. For instance, when her beloved grandmother falls ill and dies, the film casts her husband as the villain who exploits her grief, pushing her toward hard drugs she had once rejected. This sets Back to Black on a predictable path.
The portrayal of Winehouse’s bulimia is similarly superficial, depicted through brief moments, such as scenes of her in front of a toilet or a flatmate complaining about the noise. These serve as markers of her unhappiness but fail to delve into its deeper origins. The film ignores the complexity of Winehouse’s mental health, offering a shallow, tragic artist narrative shaped by an abusive relationship—a story we’ve already seen before.
When Back to Black tries to explain Winehouse’s unhappiness, it veers into strange territory, at one point implying her suffering stemmed from an unfulfilled desire to be a mother—a claim that has been rightly criticized. Ultimately, Back to Black falls short of capturing what made Winehouse extraordinary: her singular voice and ability to tell stories that reflect the nuanced experiences of women, rejecting simplistic narratives of tragedy.