In anticipation of
spending three of the next five weeks with grandchildren, we went to see a
movie yesterday. There is an old movie theater about 15 minutes from here that
shows foreign and independent films, and we went up there to see “Amy,” a documentary
film about the short and troubled life of the British jazz singer/songwriter,
Amy Winehouse.
There was an
impressive amount of film footage beginning in her teens, which is probably not
so unusual for someone born in 1983. She had a magnificent voice and a rather
soulful presence on stage. But at the bottom of it, she was a deeply troubled human
being. To an outsider, it appeared she had everything going for her: a unique
voice and real musical talent. But the perfectionism and the relentless
publicity took their tolls, and over just a few years she deteriorated so
completely that she was unable to complete scheduled performances. Was the
alcohol overdose intentional? I suppose we will never really know.
There have been many
tales of talented performers who suffered from severe psychiatric problems
and/or addiction to drugs. Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, John Belushi, and more
recently Robin Williams come to mind. It is sad to think that some or all of
these may have been accidental, that they were using the drugs to dull the
pain, not necessarily to end it entirely. The pressures of talent and fame are
surely immense. So what separates those who survive from those who do not? James
Taylor had some very rocky times in his earlier life but somehow pulled it
together and now seems like one of the kindest, gentlest, and mellowest people
you could ever want to know (or, it’s all an act, but I like thinking about it
this way). Was that simply a matter of luck?
On a much lighter note, I came across this on Facebook this morning, and as a somewhat conflicted smartphone user, I just had to share it:
We’re having a heat wave here in New York. Stay cool!
Love,
Rebecca
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