The recently released documentary on Amy Winehouse titled just “Amy” was incredibly moving and devastating in its depiction of the singer’s 27 years where her extraordinary achievements were marred with tribulations that eventually consumed her life and led to her untimely death. Probably one of the more well-made music documentaries, I highly recommend it, as it not only chronicled her ascent to fame and what came of it, but also did a phenomenal job in presenting her as a vulnerable soul who was exceptionally gifted, a young girl who wanted to love and be loved. I don’t know how accurate the documentary is in showing her relationships, especially with her dad and her ex-husband, but if those unpleasant accounts are in fact true, then it is even more tragic that she went the way she did. Some of the scenes were painful and unsettling to watch and it wasn’t hard to feel anger building up inside me. Yes, she had her own faults, demons whatever you want to call them, but it wasn’t just her reckless behaviors that were her undoing. On a more positive note, I applaud the director for making her raw and formidable force of talent shine throughout the entire film even in those latter moments where it was clearly obvious that things were unraveling very quickly. She really had it, had that special something because it’s amazing to think that she was able to keep on writing music and performing despite her troubles escalating exponentially. You don’t even need to like jazz to notice the singularity of her voice. In short, as cliché as it sounds, she was born to sing and at her zenith awe-inspiring with an arresting presence.