WALK THE LINE

I think I'm in love.

Mmm. I think I'm in love. But with whom? Joaquin Phoenix? Johnny Cash? Joaquin Phoenix as Johnny Cash? I think I may actually be in love with Joaquin's acting, because I always get stuck on his movies, and think about his characters long after the credits roll. After Signs I kept worrying about those aliens. The Village left me fretting about his stab wound, and now I can't stop thinking about Johnny Cash.

It's no secret that Joaquin doesn't like revealing too much about his personal life, but I think he's on to something. It does shift the focus to the character he's playing, and when he's onscreen, I completely forget that I've been watching him in movies for the past fifteen years. I forget that he's a member of the Phoenix family, and I forget that he used to be a kid named Leaf. Even so, I was a little perplexed at the beginning of Walk the Line.

Johnny Cash is such a familiar figure that most of us would probably recognize him in our sleep. The man onscreen wasn't Joaquin, but it wasn't Johnny either. He didn't look or sound quite right, and at first I was just watching a movie about a guy who wanted to be a singer. Though I would later see this as a stroke of movie-making genius, it didn't help that the guy playing Elvis is a complete sham, and Jerry Lee Lewis is only a good impersonation. "Well, this is a good story," I thought, "but I'm not quite feeling it."

Walk the Line is a good story. It begins when Johnny Cash is just a boy, listening to the Carter Family on the radio, and dreaming of a life in music. Everything changes after the tragic death of his beloved brother, but it gives Johnny even more reason to leave home and follow his heart. After a stint in the Air Force, he settles down with a nice girl (Ginnifer Goodwin) and tries to make a normal life.

Unfortunately, normal life and the ascent to stardom don't exactly complement one another, and soon Johnny is struggling to bear the guilt of his brother's death, his parent's disappointment, and a faltering marriage. It's unsurprising that he turns to prescription drugs and alcohol as a means of coping—his circumstances would drive most of us to the edge. His descent toward rock bottom is highlighted by a fit wherein he pulls a sink right out of the wall, and his pain is almost palpable. Half the time he's such a mess that you can practically smell him—all sweaty, and reeking of tobacco and booze.

As June Carter, Reese Witherspoon is a sharp contrast to Joaquin's Cash. She's squeaky clean with her shiny hair and pretty dresses. She's got a voice like a bell, and her basic goodness is like an oasis to Johnny. She takes him under her wing, but she's not putting up with any funny business. She expects Johnny to be the person she knows he can be, and isn't about to accept less.

It was toward the end, when I was utterly engrossed in the story, and completely invested in the fate of this guy that he finally became Johnny Cash. It was a magical, almost imperceptible moment, but I think it happens when Johnny wakes up after a breakdown. He's been in bed for days, going through a sort of unsupervised detox. He's all sweaty and bleary, and June is just sitting on the edge of the bed with a bowl of strawberries, waiting for him to wake up. He looks at her, teary-eyed, with such genuine love and appreciation that you just about melt.

From that moment on, you know that Johnny Cash is no longer walking the line between self-destruction and success. He's come out on the other side, and he's no longer just a guy trying to make it. He's the legend we know, The Man in Black, and he is going to make it. By the time June agrees to marry him, my heart was thumping, and I was ready to spend the next thirty years of happily-ever-after with them—possibly in real time. This is when the credits roll, preserving the romance of their story, and leaving you wanting more. With the smell of Oscars heavy in the air, I went home believing in the redemptive power of love. When I got there, I dug out as many Johnny Cash records as I could find, and continued the story on my own.

DVD NOTES

The first disc of the Collector's Edition contains the usual extras: feature commentary by James Mangold, deleted scenes, and trailers. A second disc contains nifty extended musical sequences and three short documentaries on the making of Walk the Line, the story behind the historic Folsom Prison concert, and the love between Johnny and June. Interviewees run the gamut from Cash's children and friends to country music legends and cast members from the film. All of this is interesting and well done, but it pales in comparison to the inclusion of five collector postcards. If there's one thing I love in a boxed set, it's postcards—not to send, but to hoard forever and ever. Excellent.