In the face of tragedy, it is a human impulse to find someone to blame. So, the Amy Winehouse story needs a villain.

In the aftermath of the singer-songwriter’s death from alcohol poisoning in 2011, two villains have dominated her story. The first is Blake Fielder-Civil, her on-again, off-again boyfriend and husband, who introduced her to the hard drugs that escalated her downward spiral. The second is Winehouse’s father, Mitch, who famously agreed that she didn’t need to go to rehab at a time when her burgeoning addictions might have been stamped out.

These wicked archetypes were established most forcefully in Asif Kapadia’s 2015 documentary, Amy. While it received critical acclaim, the film was rejected by Mitch as “preposterous.” Now, a new biopic, titled Back To Black, aims to dispute the Kapadia narrative, with a dramatized portrait of Winehouse which presents the story “through her eyes.”

It’s a welcome concept, in theory, because the truth is often more complex than the binary divide between heroes and villains. After all, another perspective might see Fielder-Civil as a victim rather than a villain – turning to drugs and bullying behavior due to his own vulnerabilities and troubled upbringing. We know Winehouse held him in high enough esteem to declare him “the best man in the world.” Similarly, although Mitch may have missed an early opportunity to address his daughter’s addictions, he later participated in several interventions. And Winehouse loved him enough to have “Daddy’s Girl” tattooed on her arm.

So, the truth is that Winehouse’s life and relationships were complex. But, unfortunately, Back To Black isn’t interested in complexity. Rather, it waters down these multifaceted characters into a cheeky Camden chap with a mild proclivity for cocaine and a doting dad whose only tragic flaw is an affable naivety. The plot hits all the beats of Winehouse’s story but offers few insights into the key events. Anyone unfamiliar with her biography will be confused as to why she turned to alcohol and drugs and bulimia. In the world of the film, she seems to be surrounded by a happy, supportive, functional network of family and friends. Her sadness is telegraphed by sequences of her walking through Camden in the rain. But the reasons for this unhappiness are vague.

Viewers will be equally confused by the film’s depiction of her rapid ascent to fame. One minute she is performing in a dingy Camden basement, and the next she is surrounded by paparazzi. The fact is that Winehouse’s stardom came almost entirely off the back of her second (and final) album, which contained all her biggest hits. But the filmmakers need to space the songs out evenly across the runtime. Thus, it is loosely implied that the single “Back To Black” precipitates her fame, with the other hits, such as “Rehab” and “Tears Dry On Their Own,” coming much later.

Director Sam Taylor-Johnson’s vision was reportedly to avoid an “objective and beat by beat” telling of the story. Instead, she aimed to conjure a “reimagination” of Winehouse’s life “guided by her lyrics.” But this artistic statement is a cop-out. Because the film is equally eager to suggest its factual precision via the popular biopic trope of shot-for-shot recreations of real moments. These include Winehouse’s TV interview with Jonathan Ross, her wedding portrait with Fielder-Civil, and her Grammy Awards acceptance speech, to name a few. By blending this meticulous verisimilitude with factual flexibility, the film muddies the waters between truth and lies. And it suggests several things about Winehouse’s life which simply aren’t right.

The debut of “Rehab,” for instance, comes after a stint in a treatment facility which the film portrays as successful. In reality, the song was written and released before she entered any rehab program. Thus, a song that was originally a defiant celebration of a decision that would ultimately lead to her death is turned into a jaunty joke about a problem solved.

The most outrageous suggestion is saved for the end, however. After being informed by a paparazzo that her ex-husband Fielder-Civil has had a child with another woman, Winehouse (played by Marisa Abela) responds by writing “Tears Dry On Their Own.” The film then cuts abruptly to black, with text informing us that Winehouse died “following a long period of sobriety.”

Leaving aside the doubtfulness of this adjective “long,” the implication of the ending is that Winehouse relapsed or died by suicide due to her childlessness. The seeds for this idea are planted in earlier scenes, including one in which Winehouse and Fielder-Civil (played by Jack O’Connell) gaze mournfully over a negative pregnancy test, whilst supposedly in the grips of heroin addiction.

There is some basis in reality for Winehouse’s longing for a child: in one interview she declared, “I was put here to be a wife and a mum.” But to imply that a lack of children was the impetus for her death is beyond audacious. It allows the film to give Winehouse a Disney princess ending – she died of a broken heart! – simply because it is unwilling to descend to the Requiem For A Dream levels of depravity needed to more honestly explain her demise.

It is understandable that the filmmakers would want to avoid an exploitative approach to Winehouse’s story. But this alternative of whitewashing her death is no better. The same team of writer Matt Greenhalgh and director Taylor-Johnson found a more graceful approach with their earlier biopic of John Lennon, Nowhere Boy, which looked exclusively at his pre-Beatles years. To create a Winehouse film that is more triumph than tragedy, as the filmmakers seem keen to do, a similar focus might have been wiser – zeroing in on a specific moment in her career.

But Back To Black wants to have its cake and eat it too – to depict the whole arc of Winehouse’s journey without delving into the awkwardness of her “difficulties”; to be loose with the facts while simultaneously suggesting authenticity.

Maybe it’s too soon for an honest take on the Winehouse story, in any case. Because that would require turning the mirror back onto the audience and revealing the uncomfortable truth that we are all villains in her downfall. Indeed, every fan who danced around to “Rehab” played a part in glorifying the addiction that would eventually kill her. And every hater who snorted up her tabloid antics fueled the paparazzi militia that would push her further into self-destructive depression.

An honest take on the Winehouse story would also require dismantling the mythology that has been built around her, and a frank admission that she was the greatest villain of all in her story. Such an assessment may sound harsh, but it’s the only interpretation that gives her any agency.

In the “heroes and villains” narrative that has been perpetuated, Winehouse has been diminished into a passive victim. In reality, she was a force of nature. She had a huge voice and personality. She made her own decisions. And her erratic temperament could turn from charm to chastisement in an instant. These elements were a key part of her success, as well as her downfall.

It is much to Abela’s credit that she captures the Winehouse personality so well. Her performance is the clear highlight of the film, and (contrary to the pre-release internet chatter) her singing is excellent. But the script doesn’t give her the depth to go much beyond sassy Winehousian wisecracks. It is rarely interested in exploring how her character and complex relationships led her to triumph then tragedy.

So, although the film is supposedly “guided by her lyrics,” it shares little in common with Winehouse’s works. Because her songs were always something a little different – based around jazzy aesthetics and unusual chord choices, with subversive lyrics that stayed with you long after the tune was over. Back To Black more closely resembles a Pop Idol product of her Simon Fuller labelmates – following a comfortable established framework, with a benign flavor that offends no one, and is forgotten soon after it’s over.

Back To Black is out now in the UK and hits US theaters 5/17.