Walk the Line
A film by James Mangold
(20th Century Fox)
To me, Johnny Cash never really seemed cut out for the biopic treatment. Sure, he had all the prerequisites - humble roots in the Deep South, a revolutionary effect on American roots music, a successful struggle with drug addiction; all of which, applied to a different recently-deceased icon, helped make last year's Ray such a resounding success. But Cash was never Ray Charles. With a black shadow longer than the man himself, and a voice which sounded more like a mystical, imaginary father figure (perhaps even the universal Father) than that of a mere mortal, Cash seemed too big to be contained by something so mundane as a biography. He was elemental, ancient, more than just a man; I couldn't have been the only young observer to imagine this giant springing into existence fully formed, with a guitar in his hand and "I Walk the Line" already on his lips. Johnny Cash was never a child. How could he have been, when he so clearly had existed since the Creation itself? Maybe I'm just a big kid on the inside, but I like my heroes to stay that way - especially when they've come to represent so much more than any one human being, much less a movie, could possibly fulfill.
So you can imagine my apprehension coming into Walk the Line, a film which seeks to provide a glimpse at the Cash beneath the "Man in Black" mystique (and, indubitably, pick up some Ray-sized Oscar nods along the way). I worried that a movie about Johnny Cash's life would destroy some of the appeal, the timelessness of his music. I worried, more distressingly, that the film would fall flat, fail to do the man justice. And, let's face it, I was never entirely convinced that Joaquin Phoenix had what it takes to step into Cash's monochrome boots and make me believe it. But thanks to director James Mangold (Girl, Interrupted), screenwriter Gill Dennis (Return to Oz), and not least Phoenix himself, my concerns have been proven false...and being wrong has never made me happier.
Walk the Line is a great Cash movie - a great movie, period - because it understands its subject. More than that, it understands him in almost purely musical terms. It's no mistake that most of the film's pivotal scenes take place with Cash in performance mode, from the Sun audition to the Grand Ole Opry meltdown to the climactic fuck-off that is "Cocaine Blues" at Folsom; these moments are not just soundtrack filler, but utterly crucial to the plot. A sequence depicting Cash's first songwriting attempts while in the Air Force serves as a master class in both the development of "Folsom Prison Blues" and the feelings of helplessness and entrapment in his life to that point; later, a handful of deftly-acted duets with June Carter (Reese Witherspoon) speak volumes about the changing state of their tumultuous relationship. Best of all is the moment when a petrified Johnny and the Tennessee Two play "Folsom" for Sam Phillips (Dallas Roberts of A Home at the End of the World), at first halting and uncertain, but gradually growing in intensity until Phillips - and the audience - just freezes. Then, a priceless glimpse at Phoenix's face reveals that he's just as awed by the power of the music as the rest of us. It's a masterful scene.
There are plenty of others, too. Both Phoenix and Witherspoon deserve all the praise they've already received and more for their performances, dramatic and musical, as the magnetic Johnny and June; while they hardly eclipse or even match their real-life subjects in the vocal department (who could?), neither actor has ever been better; especially Phoenix, who in his best moments captures Cash's wild-eyed onstage intensity as well as his natural warmth. But Mangold and Dennis also deserve congratulations for scripting a film as tight and as clearly heartfelt as this: the personal struggles in Cash's family and romantic lives, and of course his debilitating addictions, are all portrayed with an easygoing pathos that never tugs too hard at the heart strings. As we sympathize with Cash as a man, we thankfully never lose sight of the legend he remains. The only real problems, frankly, are a few bizarre casting issues: particularly Tyler Hilton of One Tree Hill as a 19-year-old Elvis who looks not a day over 14, and newcomer Waylon Malloy Payne as a rather effeminate, anachronistic Jerry Lee Lewis. These are minor oversights, hardly anything to belabor, but they remain the only things in Walk the Line which threaten to take the viewer out of the movie - and amidst otherwise inspired casting choices, such as Blanche singer/guitarist Dan Miller as Luther Perkins and Shooter Jennings in a cameo as his father Waylon, this motley Sun Records crew stands out like an even sorer thumb.
It's a rare film for which the only complaints to be had are with a few small supporting cast members, but in Walk the Line's case, it's no exaggeration. This is a nearly perfect movie. Fans of Cash, by all rights, will love it; and by the time the last shot fades to black, curious newcomers will find themselves becoming fans themselves. It's a master stroke when a director is able to capture the life of someone like Johnny Cash without ever dissipating the legend. Mangold has done it, and for that, he deserves more recognition than even the Academy could give.
Official Site
Johnny Cash
IMDb Listing
See Also: need help Walking the Line?
(20th Century Fox)
To me, Johnny Cash never really seemed cut out for the biopic treatment. Sure, he had all the prerequisites - humble roots in the Deep South, a revolutionary effect on American roots music, a successful struggle with drug addiction; all of which, applied to a different recently-deceased icon, helped make last year's Ray such a resounding success. But Cash was never Ray Charles. With a black shadow longer than the man himself, and a voice which sounded more like a mystical, imaginary father figure (perhaps even the universal Father) than that of a mere mortal, Cash seemed too big to be contained by something so mundane as a biography. He was elemental, ancient, more than just a man; I couldn't have been the only young observer to imagine this giant springing into existence fully formed, with a guitar in his hand and "I Walk the Line" already on his lips. Johnny Cash was never a child. How could he have been, when he so clearly had existed since the Creation itself? Maybe I'm just a big kid on the inside, but I like my heroes to stay that way - especially when they've come to represent so much more than any one human being, much less a movie, could possibly fulfill.So you can imagine my apprehension coming into Walk the Line, a film which seeks to provide a glimpse at the Cash beneath the "Man in Black" mystique (and, indubitably, pick up some Ray-sized Oscar nods along the way). I worried that a movie about Johnny Cash's life would destroy some of the appeal, the timelessness of his music. I worried, more distressingly, that the film would fall flat, fail to do the man justice. And, let's face it, I was never entirely convinced that Joaquin Phoenix had what it takes to step into Cash's monochrome boots and make me believe it. But thanks to director James Mangold (Girl, Interrupted), screenwriter Gill Dennis (Return to Oz), and not least Phoenix himself, my concerns have been proven false...and being wrong has never made me happier.
Walk the Line is a great Cash movie - a great movie, period - because it understands its subject. More than that, it understands him in almost purely musical terms. It's no mistake that most of the film's pivotal scenes take place with Cash in performance mode, from the Sun audition to the Grand Ole Opry meltdown to the climactic fuck-off that is "Cocaine Blues" at Folsom; these moments are not just soundtrack filler, but utterly crucial to the plot. A sequence depicting Cash's first songwriting attempts while in the Air Force serves as a master class in both the development of "Folsom Prison Blues" and the feelings of helplessness and entrapment in his life to that point; later, a handful of deftly-acted duets with June Carter (Reese Witherspoon) speak volumes about the changing state of their tumultuous relationship. Best of all is the moment when a petrified Johnny and the Tennessee Two play "Folsom" for Sam Phillips (Dallas Roberts of A Home at the End of the World), at first halting and uncertain, but gradually growing in intensity until Phillips - and the audience - just freezes. Then, a priceless glimpse at Phoenix's face reveals that he's just as awed by the power of the music as the rest of us. It's a masterful scene.
There are plenty of others, too. Both Phoenix and Witherspoon deserve all the praise they've already received and more for their performances, dramatic and musical, as the magnetic Johnny and June; while they hardly eclipse or even match their real-life subjects in the vocal department (who could?), neither actor has ever been better; especially Phoenix, who in his best moments captures Cash's wild-eyed onstage intensity as well as his natural warmth. But Mangold and Dennis also deserve congratulations for scripting a film as tight and as clearly heartfelt as this: the personal struggles in Cash's family and romantic lives, and of course his debilitating addictions, are all portrayed with an easygoing pathos that never tugs too hard at the heart strings. As we sympathize with Cash as a man, we thankfully never lose sight of the legend he remains. The only real problems, frankly, are a few bizarre casting issues: particularly Tyler Hilton of One Tree Hill as a 19-year-old Elvis who looks not a day over 14, and newcomer Waylon Malloy Payne as a rather effeminate, anachronistic Jerry Lee Lewis. These are minor oversights, hardly anything to belabor, but they remain the only things in Walk the Line which threaten to take the viewer out of the movie - and amidst otherwise inspired casting choices, such as Blanche singer/guitarist Dan Miller as Luther Perkins and Shooter Jennings in a cameo as his father Waylon, this motley Sun Records crew stands out like an even sorer thumb.
It's a rare film for which the only complaints to be had are with a few small supporting cast members, but in Walk the Line's case, it's no exaggeration. This is a nearly perfect movie. Fans of Cash, by all rights, will love it; and by the time the last shot fades to black, curious newcomers will find themselves becoming fans themselves. It's a master stroke when a director is able to capture the life of someone like Johnny Cash without ever dissipating the legend. Mangold has done it, and for that, he deserves more recognition than even the Academy could give.
Official Site
Johnny Cash
IMDb Listing
See Also: need help Walking the Line?
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