Movie review: Cigarettes tell more about Amy Winehouse than 'Back to Black'

At least that’s what you conclude from watching “Back to Black,” the “sanitized for your protection” biopic about the late singer/songwriter.

Short on detail, the Sam Taylor-Johnson film doesn’t even give a good sense of what propelled her career. One minute she’s singing in a bar, the next (after several smoke breaks), she’s at a record label making demands.

Her grandmother (lovingly played by Lesley Manville) exerts plenty of influence (including that hairstyle) but isn’t given enough time to really leave a mark. Instead, we see dad (Eddie Marsan) all over the place, driving Amy to appointments and serving as her “yes” man. Husband Blake Fielder-Civil (Jack O’Connell) schools her in music (which other biographies refute); Simon Fuller gets upset because he can’t package her like another Spice Girl.

And Amy? She’s in the middle of the pack, innocently singing her songs and insisting she wants to make her own choices.

Drug use, bulimia, alcohol poisoning and other factors said to have caused her death are only hinted at here. Put Amy in a poodle skirt and this could have been the story of any number of ‘50s singers.

“Back to Black,” however, should be more specific, more honest about the woman it remembers. (“They tried to make me go to rehab”? Where did that come from?)

Marisa Abela does a fine job duplicating Winehouse – particularly her voice – but she’s not given the scenes that could land her the kind of attention these films bring. She has a good flirtation with O’Connell but then Taylor-Johnson shortchanges their off-again moments and winds up prompting more questions than answering any of them.

Even Winehouse’s duet with Tony Bennett is left on the cutting room floor (if it was filmed). She mentions him several times early on, then smiles as footage shows Bennett announcing her Grammy win for Record of the Year. “Body and Soul”? It’s merely a number she admired, not the tune that won her and Bennett another Grammy.

Worse, most of Winehouse’s songs aren’t given the performance they’re due. Snippets of songs (including “Rehab” and “Black”) hint at what she was but don’t demonstrate. At times, you’d swear someone was trying to scrub her past until it starts to look like Taylor Swift’s present.

While paparazzi play a role here, they can’t compare to the cigarettes that get more screen time than any supporting actor.

They’re the wind beneath her wings and the rasp within her throat.