That last section of the movie, with Amy wasted by alcohol, drugs and eating disorders, is a gruesome horror show. But you don’t turn away, because the film has made Amy so touchingly, recognizably human. It’s her words, her music, her voicemails, her home videos, her friends, her family, her tormentors, and her timeless incandescence. Look, listen and weep.

At the heart of the film is Winehouse’s music — each song tell us of her follies and foibles, her desperation to find a love ever-after, and her biggest hit, Rehab.

I went into it not knowing much about her beyond the reports of her drug and alcohol abuse, and came out, a convert to her brand of music, to her brand of personality.

A fitting tribute to the lady who made jazz and the blues both interesting and accessible to a generation that couldn’t comprehend Miles Davis or Dinah Washington, Amy will make you wonder why we are so critical of icons we swear to love.

Amy’s last years are depicted respectfully. Even during the most unflattering moments, like her last, disastrous gig in Belgrade, there is no hint of cinematic suggestion. The most touching sequence however, has got to be her recording session with jazz legend Tony Bennett at Abbey Road, which reveals what a vulnerable and sensitive soul she really was. If you’re a fan of her music, you wouldn’t want to miss this. The singer may be gone but the songs thankfully, live on.

Adjectives don’t do a telling of her life any justice. Neither does one documentary. But this one lets you take away what you want from her story. One thing is for sure, you come away with tears, though richer for having seen a side to Amy you had either only heard of before. Here’s to more such documentaries!

In what’s a gloomy watch, the moments of respite come when Amy is in the recording studio, crooning some of her classics or talking about music. “I was sick of the crap and watered-down stuff,” she says explaining why she started writing her own songs. The Grammy win for Song of the Year draws tears of joy. It’s fitting then that Kapadia ends the film with Valerie, which was Winehouse’s last great recording. Amy may be gone, but her music remains.

The film’s biggest achievement is headlining the effect fame can have on someone not prepared to become a celebrity. Ultimately Amy was just a girl who could belt out powerful songs, she was not ready for a starry public image. The film also paints a pretty gruesome picture of drug addiction, but it does it in a way where you understand why most celebs get hooked on to them, and you’re doubly sure never to do them. Kapadia was hailed as the next big thing with ‘Senna’, and now with ‘Amy’ he has well and truly arrived.

Overall, it is a highly engrossing and sensitively told documentary of a life wasted.

This film tries to show a life in excess, through snapshots. It connects beautifully in today’s age of mass commodification, where everything sells. The price that a sold-out life has to pay may be death. Probably this is why today’s generation of music lovers flock to watch their own dream in theatres. Amy, indeed, works as a mirror.