Let me come right out and say this: I am no Johnny Cash fan.
I am not at all well versed with the man's music (though Quentin Tarantino made sure A Satisfied Mind is on my most-played song list by including it on the Kill Bill soundtrack) and know little about the legend surrounding him. I haven't read a biography, or heck, even a Rolling Stone feature on him.
Which is why I cannot judge Joaquin Phoenix's talents at imitation. I haven't a clue, when he straddles his acoustic guitar and growls 'Hello, I'm Johnny Cash,' if he's anywhere close to the real thing.
Then again, given the reams of archival and concert footage, freeze-frame technology, vocal coaching, make-up and the Oscar nomination he has earned, I'd be surprised if he hasn't done one helluva impersonation. So, I give him the benefit of doubt, and assume he's nailed the Cash persona to perfection. Applause, please.
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Which is all very well for on-stage gimmickry. Phoenix roars and purrs with dramatic finesse, and the vocals sound fine. Perfect stuff to add meat to the biopic, director James Mangold, but where is the film's heart?
In the end, Walk The Line turns into yet another music story, a been-there-yawned-through-that tale of another legend, all rags to riches to addiction to fall to resurrection. Halleluyeah, right.
It could be argued that this is exactly how Cash's life was. He was (I continue to assume, for I do not claim to know) a simple, ambitious singer, with a fantastic hand for lyric, who got thrust into a spotlight far bigger than he dreamed of.
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Fair enough, but isn't that pretty much any musician's tale? Couldn't that description hold forth for Elvis, Jim Morrison, even -- speculatively -- Noel Gallagher? Yes, and this is why the framing of a biopic is so crucial. It is the extraordinary story of an extraordinary man, and it has to be special enough to remember him by.
Instead, Mangold walks the oft-trodden line, burying the inspirational story of Cash in a pile of maudlin, generic mush. It's not a bad film, but it's tragic when a movie about a pathbreaking musical icon ends up becoming predictable Hollywood cliché.
Traditionally, popular biopics haven't necessarily been great works of filmmaking. What they have always been, however, are fabulous (and convenient) showcases for actors. The leading men and women strut their thespian gear with great abandon, donning the mask of mimic with a familiar disguise. If we're lucky, the performances lift the film. In Walk The Line, Joaquin Phoenix does a solid job, but falls several notches short of great. His Johnny Cash is not a protagonist we can either completely empathise with or be in awe of.
And while the character has definite (and, it must be said, inevitable) moments of sheer overpowering charisma, for the most part his performance is an obvious one pyrotechnics on stage and drunken rage. He manages to bestow his poorly fleshed out character with credibility, making him the quintessential tragic hero, but fails to make him memorable.
On the other hand, Reese Witherspoon is mindblowing.
Always a fine, if a one-note actress, she breaks out with a startlingly controlled performance. In the incredibly complex and layered role of June Carter (later Carter-Cash), Reese is a revelation as she tackles a formidable array of emotions. Hers is essentially a supporting role, but she bullies the screen whenever she is on, taking over entirely. She is the heroine of the film, blowing hot and cold, a married woman restraining herself as a reckless suitor charges forth, a performer struggling with performance inadequacy, a helpless romantic watching the love of her life destroy himself. From expression to diatribe, inflection to glare, Reese Witherspoon and her subtly defined performance are a joy to behold.
Which is why she needed to be given more room in the script. It is not as if she does not have enough screentime, but her character seems constantly seen from the point of view of Johnny's life, which is unfair. This biopic could have chosen a different tack, revolving around their sweeping, epic romance. The Rise (to fame and from the ashes) is a predictable storyline, but this could have been a movie about Johnny and June, two people whose first kiss was nearly a decade after they first met and almost instantly wanted each other.
Theirs is a fabulous dynamic, a marvellous and inspiring romance, flawed enough to hurt and passionate enough to be inspirational. This is a true love story, yet not the eventual point of the film. The crux, according to Mangold, is Johnny's remorse for the death of his older brother, a sadistic choice for character development forcing Joaquin to struggle with his own demons relating to his late brother, River Phoenix, an unnecessary choice in a story with several under-explored angles.
Should you watch this film? Why, certainly. It is a capable film, with one excellent leading performance and a mighty fine soundtrack, definitely qualifying as watchable. Should you pay to watch it? No, just get a hold of a 'Cash in Concert' video instead.
Spoilt for choice during a particularly good Oscar season, I'd advise giving Walk The Line a miss.
