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If you are late for “Amy,”
a new documentary about Amy Winehouse,
you will miss her at her blithest.
The year is 1998, and she is fifteen,
fooling around with friends.
They sing “Happy Birthday” together,
but the other voices soon make way for hers:
an extraordinary sound,
as effortless as a choirboy’s,
and clearly God-given...
It would snuff out all the candles.
Already the tone is illicitly rich and strong,
like hot chocolate fortified with rum,
and you can’t help wondering,
of this dark-eyed girl with a gift:
What the devil will become of her?
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| New Yorker Film Critic (7/1/15) The next Amy Winehouse page is here. The next New Yorker Page–featuring James Thurber–is there. |
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