dare to walk the line

I ABSOLUTELY LOVE THIS REVIEW!

Review by: Mark Englehart
Starring: Joaquin Phoenix, Reese Witherspoon
8 out of 10 stars: "The only time you're allowed to talk to me is onstage," Reese Witherspoon says to Joaquin Phoenix near the end of Walk the Line, and they're words well spoken, for when either of these two stars are performing, separate or together, this movie comes electrifyingly to life. As Johnny Cash, legendary man in black, and June Carter Cash, his lifetime love, Phoenix and Witherspoon do most of their romancing, flirting, courting and fighting while they're singing in front of an audience, as opposed to when they're alone together. Offstage, they're halting and shy, or obstinate and angry, all surface emotions that barely scratch the surface of their dialogue; onstage, however, they buzz with an energy that's giddy and intoxicating, communicating a wealth of emotions and enacting what can only be called a modern day mating dance. Hovering closer to each other over a microphone than they ever do in real life, they come so tantalizingly close as they sing, mouths almost next to each other, that to kiss would seem almost anticlimactic - not to mention that it would take away from the incredible music they're making. And when they sing, Walk the Line pulses with a life you can rarely find anywhere these days in a movie world where the artificial passes for reality.

As for the rest of the movie, well, despite those great performances and a studious, earnest attention to detail, Walk the Line is an aggressively standard biopic, in both its form and execution. The structure is no different from any other celeb story you've seen, as it's told in flashback, hits all the high (and low) points at the appropriate times, and by the end puts its flawed yet iconic hero on the right track to fame and fortune and immortality. To say such rote things about this movie, though, is to neglect the sizzle that Phoenix and Witherspoon give it, and their performances alone are enough to make it great and worthy of notice - much as Jamie Foxx did for Ray last year. This time out, however, the two stars (unlike Foxx) do their own singing, and their performances, both musical and non-musical, lift Walk the Line from its rather standard conception. Of course, it doesn't hurt that it tells the story of one of the great 20th century romances, that the music is phenomenal, and that it's all handsomely, lovingly mounted with just the right amount of reverence. Were that it was as bold as its hero and heroine, though -- that movie would knock your socks off.

There's a reason middling directors are attracted to biopics - they're an easy format to work within, and allow just the right amount of creativity and expression before bumping up against a border that keeps it all within its shape; it's the cinematic equivalent of coloring within the lines. When great directors try it, like Martin Scorsese with The Aviator, the result is artsy mess that doesn't get to either the heart of its main character or its director; when adventurous directors try it, like Julie Taymor with Frida, the result is something unabashedly fun and daring, but you leave feeling more a kinship with the art than the artist. (Of course, when bad directors go at it, you get a campy mess like De-Lovely or Beyond the Sea.) But when, well, okay directors try it, what you get is something rather safe, at times dull, and only fitfully illuminating about the characters it portrays. Taylor Hackford achieved similar results with Ray, which was certainly entertaining if manipulative, and gave sparkles and shimmers to a story that could have been told as easily within a VH-1 documentary. Similarly, James Mangold does the same with Walk the Line, drawing the outlines of Cash's life with big, broad strokes that never threaten to go off the page, and connecting the salient points of the singer's life like so many dots.

With Cash's seminal concert at Folsom State Prison as its choice of framing device, Walk the Line immediately flashes back to its protagonist's poor childhood picking cotton alongside his cold father (Robert Patrick), loving mother (Shelby Lynne), and adored brother, Jack (Lucas Till). From there it's a short jump to Jack's tragic death in a tablesaw accident, then a grown-up Johnny's enlistment in the army, his marriage to the young Vivian (Ginnifer Goodwin), and his budding attempts at singing and songwriting. Along the way there are little roadside distractions - there's Johnny crafting the lyrics to "Folsom Prison Blues," there's a young singer named Elvis Presley (Tyler Hilton) recording at Sun Records, there's little Rosanne Cash as a squalling baby - but only a little to flesh out Cash's story. Mangold does dole out tantalizing glimpses, especially Phoenix trying out Cash's trademark growl in his first few songs, but the movie doesn't truly light up until Phoenix gets in front of a microphone, and then it blasts into something resembling pure Technicolor. And when a little spitfire named June Carter comes along, well… it's fireworks all around.

Shucking off the trappings around them - namely Jerry Lee Lewis (Waylon Payne), Roy Orbison (Johnathan Rice), and the aforementioned Presley - Phoenix and Witherspoon hone in on each other with the precision of sharpshooters and dig into both their own characters and each other's. A standard meet-and-greet at an all-night diner is sweet and touching with the right hints of awkwardness and desire, but when he coerces her into singing onstage, then all bets are off and the two actors - and characters - come together with a blissful kind of alchemy rarely seen. It's hard to put words to it, but their give and take is so nuanced, so seductive, so perfect, that you can't help but be caught up in it. And once they've performed together, their interaction infuses the rest of Phoenix and Witherspoon's musical performances, as it seems (as it did in real life) that Johnny and June are singing solely for each other, to express their love and tell their stories.

This chemistry takes the film through both its highlight, a tour in Vegas that culminates in a one-night stand, and its lowlight, Cash's drug addiction and withdrawal. The drug sequences are a bit of a long haul, as this kind of thing has been done much better in other movies, but it is enlivened by nice grace notes; June, protesting to her mother that she doesn't want to get further into Cash's problems, is kindly rebuffed that "Honey, you're already in it." Once Cash is cleaned up and in fighting shape again, the movie speeds towards the Folsom Prison show, an electric performance that's one of the best concert scenes in recent memory, and then to the night of February 22, 1968, when Johnny proposes to June onstage and she finally says yes.

It's in that final scene that the movie earns - and cashes in -- all the emotion and good will it's pent up for its two-hour plus running time, and Phoenix and Witherspoon finally consummate their onstage romance with a passionate kiss. Both actors come together effortlessly, and it's the kind of cathartic, ecstatic embrace that's the stuff of great acting. And despite their opposite approaches to the material, Phoenix and Witherspoon work together with a perfect kind of grace. His Johnny is firmly grounded in a growly kind of Method acting, all angst and grimaces and begging and pleading, with emotions all over the place, while her June is all showbiz sweetness, a smooth surface that belies a wealth of stubbornness and bravery and grit. During most of the movie you certainly get a feeling for their passion, but not the great obsession that spawned the desire of "Ring of Fire." But in their final scenes, however, all the tortured emotions that have ensnared Johnny and June come bubbling to the surface and spill over. And despite Walk the Line's many flaws, it's well worth the wait.

I CANNOT WAIT TO WATCH THIS MOVIE NOW!