I just recently finished reading Spin‘s profile on Amy Winehouse, the British, up-and-coming, vaguely horse-faced jazz and R&B belter, and then I was struck yesterday, while blasted with her catchy hit single “Rehab” while stuck in traffic, that if it hasn’t already been snatched up by some bottom-feeding teen flick, this is a potentially great big screen song. It likely won’t find its perfect match; the quite literal if rather deliciously sardonic lyrics dictate that. But the tune’s superlative horn and trumpet work — working in concert with that slap-happy, click-clackitty percussive loop — give it an undeniable sense of thrift-store uplift. No big production for production’s sake, just everything working in unison.

Rather than finding its cinematic soulmate in the tale of some alcoholic drifter-grifter who makes good, “Rehab” will more than likely be used as spackle to cover up some narrative inanity. You know, kind of how Lincoln Park’s “What I’ve Done” is slapped over the end of Transformers and cranked up to spleen-rattling levels, in an effort (mostly successful, it turns out) to make you momentarily forget that the movie just told you that a massive, city-leveling battle between giant alien robots could be covered up merely by dumping its wreckage into the ocean.