THERE IS CURRENTLY an overabundance of films at our cinema screens stretching their arms high in the air, grunting ‘Pick me sir, I’m ever so good!’ at that little gold Academy Award fella; Ang Lee’s Brokeback Mountain, Steven Spielberg’s Munich, Bennett Miller’s Capote, George Clooney’s Good Night and Good Luck, yet strangely not James Mangold’s excellent Johnny Cash biopic Walk The Line, despite it’s nominations for Best Actor & Best Actress.
A biopic, undoubtedly, makes for predictable viewing; so abundant is the turbulent rags-to-riches fable you could watch it in a coma and still know what was coming. This is the tragedy of Walk The Line. As a film in its own right, it stands out valiantly with its slicked back hair and shades, nonchalantly blowing smoke rings into the face of its contemporaries, outclassing almost everyone as a captivating drama and as an absorbing romance. However, it may be erroneously overlooked at this years Oscars because of the similar themes with last year’s musical biopic, Ray.
Yet Walk The Line should not be accused of following (black) suit; what impresses generally about the film is its oozing class and sincerity, right down to every strum and drum kick. It's particularly impressive considering how predictable the theme could have made it. Nevertheless, if there was any person whose story is really worth telling it is Johnny Cash, a man renowned for self-mythologizing, a man whose whole 50+ year career centred on his ability to construct a great story. While his legendary Sun label-mates Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis, and Roy Orbison (all make cameos) sang about women and good times, The Man in Black famously wrote songs about ‘killing a man just to watch him die’. His individuality and ‘outlaw’ persona made him an international star and a statue of ‘cool’ for generations. His popularity saw him ceaselessly touring, eventually turning to amphetamines as a way to keep focused.
Cash appealed to both the young, female and frivolous to also to the old, male and incarcerated; the famous gig at Folsom Prison is the films starting point, before skipping back to his cotton-picking childhood and the harrowing death of his brother Jack. Jack’s death, and the resentment of John from his father, leads to some predictable ‘you’ll never amount to nothing’ shenanigans, but the tension between John R. Cash and his disapproving father (the splendidly malevolent Robert Patrick) is pitched perfectly, climaxing years later with a Benzedrine-based face off between the pair over a Thanks-Giving dinner.
In his preparation for the film, Joaquin Phoenix claimed he was attracted to the contradictions of Johnny Cash; openly a lover of God and Christianity, whilst engaging in extra-marital sex, prescription drugs and more prescription drugs. Cash also told Joaquin his favourite scene in Gladiator was the line: “Your son squealed like a girl when they nailed him to the cross and your wife moaned like a whore as they ravaged her again and again and again.” It would at least make for an interesting sermon.
With the inevitable hyperbole surrounding his Oscar nominated performance, Phoenix has said to have resented the simplistic and allegorical angle most reporters took to glorifying his performance; the real Cash was devastated by losing his brother, so too was Joaquin; watching his brother and rising film star River collapse and die due a drugs overdose in 1993, outside the famous Viper Club. Curiously, a few months later Johnny Cash saw his popularity restored at a triumphant live return at the same venue. Whatever the story behind Joaquin’s performance, he should take the press excitement as a complement; it conveys the depth and mesmerising realism he exhibits onscreen; oscillating from fragile and brooding, to wired and menacing. Famously, all the singing was done by actors - a risky move – but one which pays off admirably with Phoenix’s guttural voice and idiosyncrasies all matching Cash perfectly.
Phoenix’s performance, however, is not simply a matter of bootlegging Cash’s personality; he brings his own range and fragile amiability to the role, as does Reese Witherspoon as Cash’s love interest and obsession, June Carter. Witherspoon (nominated for best supporting actress) is perfectly cast as the role allows her to twist her perky, all-American guise and let the audience see her depth, her character torn between maintaining a smile for her audience whilst being privately lambasted for her divorce and for her hesitant love affair with Cash. Pleasing also is Memphis born Ginnifer Goodwin’s turn as Cash’s estranged first wife Vivian, Ginnifer joins a growing number of attractive young actresses turning their hand to serious roles (as apposed to roles in passé rom-coms or tired Disney pictures) and doing it sublimely.
The story skims over areas of Johnny’s life (there’s a famous story of Cash, high on pills, almost wiping a rare-species of Condor off the planet) but to the director’s credit, he realises that keeping a sombre, realistic tone to the film; - from the depiction of rebellious American youth in the 1950s to the fantastic live performances - all adds to the magnetism of the film. Walk The Line then, covers familiar territory: (Dirt-poor musician makes it big; has a spot of bother with women and illicit substances) but the film does so with such conviction, tenderness, and rock ‘n’ roll vigour you’ll be combing chip fat into your black bouffant in no-time.