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Walk the Line

directed by James Mangold

By  by Jesse Kornbluth
Published: Jan 01, 2005
Category: Drama

 

 

 

Walk the Line
directed by James Mangold

Talk about an entrance! You hear 2,000 prisoners stomping and clapping for Johnny Cash. You see the guards of Folsom Prison rushing toward the commotion. You watch the band play the same introductory riff over and over.

And then, in a prison wood shop that serves as a dressing room, you see Johnny Cash. He’s bent over a buzz saw, a finger on the blade, lost in his thoughts.

Those thoughts — those memories — are the engine of Walk the Line , the film about Johnny Cash and June Carter that will bring artistic immortality to Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon, who not only channel the great country music stars but very credibly sing their songs.

I am no fan of film reviews that reveal too much of the plot; I much prefer to walk into a movie knowing almost nothing. And so my purpose here is less to describe the movie than to power-wedge you out of your chair and to the multiplex, the better to experience one of the most searing movies you will ever see.

The musical bio-pic is not generally an experience that rips you apart. In the formulaic version, you get the early inspiration, the years of struggle, the big break and, more often than not, the cliched irony: Success ain’t all it’s cracked up to be. The celebrity hero ends up sadder and wiser. Or dead. Either way, the moral seems more about show business than anything else.

‘Walk the Line’ uses some of these conventions, but they’re in the service of a very big idea — how a primal wound can wreck a life. For Cash, that wound came when his brother is killed in a sawmill accident. ‘Where were you?’ his father sneers. Well, Johnny had been fishing, with not a care in the world.

His  brother had dreams of becoming a preacher; Johnny saw only goodness in him. After his death, Johnny can’t help believing — his father even says it — that the wrong son died.

But a fire burns in this kid; he wants to make music. Early in the film, there’s a terrific scene when Johnny auditions for Sam Phillips in Memphis. He plays a corny gospel number. The producer — already on his way to glory — takes the time to tell Johnny he sings without conviction. Does he have any songs that come from his heart — from his rage, his ambition, his dreams? Johnny’s future is on the line. Maybe his life — you can see the emotions play across his face. And then he sings ‘Folsom Prison Blues,’a song  he wrote when he was in the Air Force, a song with the most memorable lines of his career: ‘I shot a man in Reno/Just to watch him die.’

Failure becomes success. Johnny Cash is launched. But that primal wound is unfinished business — the more successful he becomes, the more it will nag at him. I’m not telling you anything you don’t know about Cash when I say the pills that seem so innocent quickly become weapons of self-destruction. He burns through his marriage, begins to trash his career.

And then there is the matter of June Carter. Like Cash, she has children and a checkered romantic history. Unlike him, she has a supportive family. And her self-respect. So while she loves him, she fights — for years — against that love, for she understands that this is a troubled man, a demonized man, a man who has always and will always look for solutions outside of himself.

For two-thirds of the movie, ‘Walk the Line’ is an eye-opening look at a man destined for tragedy. In the final third, he achieves it. Ugly to watch? Unbearable. Every moment is a nail in his self-crucifixion — when we see Cash listen to Dylan, it’s to these lines: “God said to Abraham, kill me a son.’ Or two sons, because it certainly seems that the Man in Black is bound to join his brother in the grave.

The resolution of ‘Walk the Line’ is built on an idea that’s radical in American movies: the man is weak and the woman is strong. How strong, how loving, how wise, how determined is June Carter — that’s the real business of the movie. Seen this way, the Johnny Cash story sets the table for the June Carter story. And the payoff is huge. You want to know what real love looks like? What real commitment is? June Carter in ‘Walk the Line’ shows the way.

I’ve been saying Johnny and June when I ought to be saying Joaquin and Reese. But to a degree you wouldn’t think possible, they disappear into the characters. The film may be brilliantly written and expertly filmed — it feels like a documentary. These are performances that suck you in from the start and never falter; Phoenix and Witherspoon have my vote for every possible award.

Who should see this movie? Anyone interested in country music or Johnny Cash. But more: anyone who’s in an a relationship where the childhood trauma lingers, where an unwelcome guest is following one (or both) of you around. ‘Walk the Line’ shows you the price you pay for not dealing with it. And, gloriously, the reward to be had for facing your demons.

In the end, ‘Walk the Line’ is a love story. And one of the greatest, at that. Bring Kleenex. Prepare to sob. And then, like the prisoners at Folsom, prepare to cheer.

There is a movie soundtrack, with the actors singing Cash’s songs. They are more than competent, but what you want is Cash himself. ‘The Essential Johnny Cash’ delivers 36 songs on two CDs. It’s got the greatest hits and some of his greater collaborations: Dylan, Willie Nelson, U2. And you might also consider ‘Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison,’ which has been re-engineered to capture the experience.

To buy ‘ The Essential Johnny Cash’ from Amazon.com, click here. click here.

To buy ‘Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison’ from Amazon.com, click here.