Watch the trailer (at apple.com).
I never really got the Johnny Cash thing. I’ve never been all that much into Country music, though there are a few things I’m nuts for, the Carter family being one. But he always seemed to me like one of those leftover novelty acts from Generations Past, like Andy Williams or Mel Torme. Plus the whole ink-black-hair thing creeped me out. The only memory I have of listening to The Man In Black was some random track on a Christmas album. Conway Twitty was on there too. Is it any wonder I missed out on the mystique?
Frankly, I went to see Walk the Line because I’ll see Joaquin Phoenix in anything. I have a soft spot for Reese Witherspoon, too; I like her sass. I learned three things from this experience: 1) I need to seriously re-think my position on Johnny Cash; 2) Reese Witherspoon and Joaquin Phoenix are eerily almost too-talented for their age, and 3) I never ever ever ever need to see another biopic again for as long as I live.
To the first lesson first. I never knew what a sad, complex and powerful artist Johnny Cash was. I have very little in common with him as a person, but I could relate somehow to the throbbing ache at his center. He seemed to carry around an awareness of his own capacity for wickedness, a burden that made him doubt whether he deserved to be loved at all. That made him raw and honest and restless and defiant, and all of that got poured into his music. In fact, he seemed to be one of those people who could barely express himself in words — unless they were lyrics to a song. This movie showed me, at last, what the hoopla was all about.
The film itself, however, is hopelessly pedestrian. It’s a standard-issue biopic bounce along the headlines: He’s poor, he loses his beloved brother, he discovers the guitar, goes on the road, gets hooked on drugs, sleeps around, loses his family, hits bottom, writhes around on a bed until he’s sober again, and hang-doggedly attempts to revive his career. It is to Joaquin Phoenix’s credit that we never look away from the screen. He inhabits Johnny Cash with a meticulously-crafted performance that goes far beyond impersonation. He captures certain truths about the man: his gruff honesty, his shame, his renegade temper, his desire for salvation. And oh yes, his voice. As has been much trumpeted, Joaquin does all of his own singing, and he really pulls it off. He gets all the way down there in those growly bass tones that we all associate with Johnny Cash, and his singing gets richer and fuller and more moving as the film goes on. Reese Witherspoon is his equal throughout — she is as feisty and spirited as June Carter ever was, and she makes exacting, split-second acting choices that let us glimpse the brokenhearted vulnerability and confusion lying just beneath June’s famous grit. Her singing is less convincing — well-done, but more like adorable Reese than spitfire June. Together, though, Phoenix and Witherspoon have so much chemistry and charisma, you are knocked back in your chair. They are the sole reason to see this movie.
