| Walk 
                    the Line Director 
                      James Mangold’s Johnny Cash biopic, Walk the Line, 
                      has a bevy of things going against it. For one, Joaquin 
                      Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon are either “give or 
                      take” performers depending on the project in question. 
                      Another issue is Mangold himself, who has failed to deliver 
                      anything of real substance or merit to date. 
                     However 
                      the biggest obstacle facing all parties involved is, perhaps, 
                      the Man in Black himself, Johnny Cash. Regardless of having 
                      Cash’s biographies to pool from, how does a film capture 
                      a mythical figure like Cash without falling into the conventional 
                      trappings of typical celebrity biopics? It would seem 
                      nearly impossible to succeed considering these odds, yet 
                      somehow Mangold and company rise to the occasion, producing 
                      a film that not only embodies Johnny Cash, but bleeds Cash 
                      from its very pores. We meet Johnny Cash (Phoenix) amidst 
                      his pinnacle live recording “Johnny Cash at Folsom 
                      Prison.” His band rambles along, their beat churning 
                      along like a locomotive as Cash stands backstage lost in 
                      thought. A voice calls out to him, but he is lost in thought 
                      with a finger prodding a table saw blade. This 
                      is the door opening up into Cash’s life for viewers 
                      to peer through, and although flashbacks are usually considered 
                      to be weak storytelling devices, somehow the convention 
                      suits the story being told. One of the primary reasons this 
                      works so well is that most of Cash’s life was filled 
                      with torment, regret, and pain stemming from sins predicated 
                      upon events in his past. His music was filled with reflection, 
                      telling a story that unfolded raw emotion in an open and 
                      honest fashion, so it almost necessary to engage Cash at 
                      a moment of contemplative introspection. Born J.R. Cash, 
                      Johnny’s struggle with remorse began at age twelve, 
                      when his brother Jim, the only person in his life who seemed 
                      to understand him, was stripped away by an early death. 
                      The Cash family was stricken with strife early on with a 
                      patriarch named Ray (Robert Patrick) who drowned his financial 
                      woes in excessive liquid comfort and exercised frustration 
                      with physical and verbal abuse. J.R.’s love of music 
                      only stoked the ire of his father, while Jim could do no 
                      wrong in his eyes. It is only natural that Jim’s death 
                      by way of table saw be blamed on J.R., especially since 
                      his youthful exuberance had led him fishing on the day of 
                      Jim’s unfortunate accident. To Cash’s 
                      father, Johnny was destined to fail. His love of music did 
                      nothing to bring food to the table, so his father believed 
                      that he was fated to do nothing with his life. Ray’s 
                      words haunted Johnny for the bulk of his life, and we see 
                      not only Johnny’s continued rejection, but his continuous 
                      pursuit of Ray’s approval throughout the film.James Mangold 
                      and Gill Dennis’ script chooses to take a steady and 
                      persistent pace rather than a flash bang of overindulgent 
                      cutting and breakneck exposition. Johnny’s career 
                      is unfolded rather exploded, and the script chooses key 
                      moments in Cash’s life to sink into and dwell in order 
                      to establish the mood and tone of not only the film, but 
                      the man himself. We get 
                      snippets of Cash’s stint in the Air Force, the influence 
                      of the B-movie Inside the Walls of Folsom Prison 
                      on his songwriting, and the details of his rocky first marriage 
                      to wife Vivian (Ginnifer Goodwin). Cash’s music dreams 
                      are insatiable, and despite protests from Vivian, his determination 
                      eventually pays off. The appropriate notes from Cash’s 
                      life are hit upon with perfect pitch, and one of the notable 
                      moments is his audition with Sun Studios legend, Sam Phillips. 
                       This 
                      brings us back to the potential pitfalls originally facing 
                      Walk the Line in its chosen leads. The buzz on 
                      the street is that both Joaquin and Reese were handpicked 
                      by their counterparts, Johnny Cash and June Carter respectively. 
                      Whether this is true remains a product of media hype, although 
                      after screening Walk the Line it remains hard to 
                      deny its plausibility. Both bury themselves so completely 
                      within character, performing each song with such conviction 
                      and authenticity, that the act gets lost in the presentation. 
                      These two cease to exist at points within the film, and 
                      only Cash and Carter remain. Walk 
                      the Line will no doubt garner comparisons to Ray, 
                      not only due to early Oscar buzz, but on behalf of performance 
                      and recreation alone. The truth is, despite Jamie Foxx’s 
                      excellent turn as legendary piano man Ray Charles, this 
                      film succeeds in a way that Ray could never hope 
                      to live up to. The focus, like Cash himself, is not on the 
                      music, but on the man. Johnny 
                      Cash’s distinct sound emanated from the degree of 
                      exposure to the man behind the sound in his music. He wasn’t 
                      just singing up there, he was exposing himself; he was telling 
                      bits and pieces of his life.As dark, 
                      corrupted, and flawed as they may be, they were there for 
                      all to hear and relate to. Which is partly why Cash’s 
                      kinship to prison felt so authentic, having lived the majority 
                      of his life feeling as though he were trapped in some sort 
                      of emotion prison, he had no problem relating to those serving 
                      time in places like San Quentin and Folsom. The 
                      myth of the man is nearly impossible to recreate, and yet 
                      this film manages to do just that. Years ago, with very 
                      little knowledge of Johnny Cash and only a vague connection 
                      to his music, a friend imparted a story about Johnny that 
                      is unforgettable. He explained that Cash’s song, "Ring 
                      of Fire," was actually written following a major burn 
                      for the musician, having battled a lifestyle rife with addiction 
                      and partying,  Cash 
                      supposedly ventured out into the woods intoxicated on drugs 
                      and booze. Smoking a cigarette, it was said that he passed 
                      out only to awake in the midst of a fire, providing the 
                      singer with a very clear image of his own state of burned 
                      out depravity. This, 
                      of course, is untrue, as the famous song was actually penned 
                      by June Carter and Merle Kilgore, but there is an element 
                      of truth buried within the myth. The song was inspired 
                      by Cash’s slow burn into depravity. It represented 
                      the torment Carter felt over her forbidden love of Cash 
                      despite his battle with his inner demons.  In a 
                      way, Cash was amidst a blazing fire that was his life, and 
                      a piece of the blaze can be glimpsed in Walk the Line. 
                        Rating: 
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