Amy is an incredible film. The found footage of a lost life works its way through me as I walk out of the cinema tonight and into the devastatingly open wings of Angel where I live. There’s a summer rain. It’s barely heavy enough to fall. Like Amy. Heartbreakingly clear in its authenticity and heartbreakingly blurred in reality.
The truthfulness of a life captured within a kaliedescopic lie, by a slow motion passing shadow, is devastating. Her life in a spinning raindrop. All shadows are defined by light. Alcoholism is a silent assassin – hidden in plain sight – in silhouette and luminosity. It wears every moment every emotion as camouflage and waits with stealth.
Amy didn’t die at the party when everyone was “having a good time”. She died alone. I’m not against alcohol. I am against alcoholism. Most of us (rich or poor) know someone we think may have a problem. Don’t gossip about them. Check in on them. Drop a leaflet for AA through their door, leave a few at the office by the water cooler. They die alone too.