Amy

If you only knew Winehouse as the punchline of many comedians' jokes about drugs, alcohol ,and excess, Amy will make you remember all of those bits with discomfort. And if Winehouse's deep, resonant voice haunts you every time you listen to one of her songs, Amy will do so threefold. The British singer's voice is everywhere in this powerful documentary -- speaking brashly to talk show hosts, flirtatiously to lovers, petulantly to her father, and painfully and truthfully to some of her friends. And when she sings, which she does frequently (although very rarely completely, as songs are cut off midway for storytelling), we're reminded of how important a musician the world lost; she was a monumental talent. In a way, she tells her own story, with director Asif Kapadia relying on old footage of Winehouse with pals and in interviews (as well as hounded by the paparazzi) to show viewers who she was. Like her music, the film is unapologetically honest, perhaps even dwelling a little too much on the sadness that clung to the singer and the demons that eventually destroyed her. We almost feel bad about looking, as if rubber-necking at a car accident scene.

But Amy also does a brilliant job of showing how much Winehouse meant to those who really knew her: her girlhood best friends, her former roommates, her first manager, her last bodyguard. To many, she was more than the memorable voice -- and certainly more than her frailties. Kapadia is able to fashion a textured portrait that doesn't shy away from harsh truths but also manages to make the iconic singer far more than the sum of the thousands of tabloid headlines written about her. Amy Winehouse was gifted. Amy Winehouse was troubled. Amy Winehouse was tempestuous and loyal and giving and frustrating. She was a complicated human being, and Amy's biggest feat is driving that message home to viewers who may have written her off as yet another strung-out musician.