Walk The Line vs The Hurricane

I'm probably not the guy to review Walk the Line. I might be too big a Johnny Cash fan. Like Batman Begins, Walk the Line won me over for all the things it's not, and I'm so happy I can barely concentrate on what's left. Is it perfect? At one point, a member of Johnny Cash's band complains about having to ride in a car with Elvis because all that guy wanted to do was talk about “poon”. Yes. Yes, it's perfect.

Walk the Line tells the story of Mr. John Cash, Man in Black and all around bad-ass, from his childhood up until his legendary performance at Folsom Prison. Johnny Cash's biography probably reads a little like the one for Ray Charles, but isn't that sort of the point? Singers make perfect subjects for biographical movies because their art provides the subtext. Real lives don't have the emotional arc of traditional drama, but when Johnny Cash sings Folsom Prison Blues for the first time--awkwardly sweating through the first verse, gaining confidence and digging deep in the middle, rocking it on home at the end—we see a life on screen. Cash is born, lives, dies, and is born again in that moment, and it's as moving and exciting as anything I've seen at the movies this year.

Joaquin Phoenix plays Johnny Cash, and just as importantly, he plays John Cash. A huge mistake other musical biopics make(I'm looking at you, Great Balls of Fire) is in portraying the singer's off-stage life as identical to their performing antics. Johnny Cash was a rebel, a giant, a deep-voiced sinner, a criminal, a killer, a womanizer, a cowboy, and any number of other badass and dangerous men. Off-stage, he was still a bit of each of those, but also more vulnerable, sad and troubled. John's brother died when they were boys, his father was emotionally distant and abusive, and his first wife was more interested in a John that could bring home a steady paycheck than a Johnny that might rock the house with Jerry Lee. Phoenix is exceptional as Johnny Cash. He looks enough like the real deal to create the illusion for film, but different enough for us to buy him as a character (any more and it would be impersonation, and that's just a step away from parody.) Even more impressive, however, is that Phoenix is doing his own singing, and quite well too. He's good enough that he never had to sing a note; his pill-deprived breakdown should be a clichéd moment, but it's riveting, as is a scene of John fighting with his first wife (Ginnifer Goodwin, good in the toughest role of the movie) until he's horrified by his own behavior.

And then there's Reese Witherspoon. There was a time, just after Election, when I wanted Reese Witherspoon to be my girlfriend, and more importantly, my favorite actress. And then neither happened. Go figure. But now, both are a possibility again (you heard me: BOTH.) Reese plays June Carter with so much electricity, passion and charm you'll understand completely why she was brought on tour with the likes of Roy Orbison, Elvis Presley, Jerry Lee Lewis and Johnny Cash. On stage, she's vivacious and sunny, off she's guilt-ridden and weary about life in a way that no one in her world understands, except of course John. June was married twice before John, and was viewed by many in the gospel community as a traitor. Witherspoon nails the role, bringing extra light to the screen anytime she's on. And don't tell anyone, but her singing voice as June is prettier than the real thing. There's a reason it's called Walk the Line and not something more Johnny Cash-centric, and that's because John's pursuit and love of June is the true focus of the movie.

Walk the Line was directed by James Mangold, who always makes his films edgy enough that they stand out as authentic, but safe enough to fit securely into the mainstream. It's not an easy task, I'm sure. Walk the Line doesn't shy away from any negative behavior in Johnny Cash's life; in fact, he's a pretty frustrating character. The period details of the movie feel accurate without being a distraction. Also, the decision to use the voices of the actors instead of vintage recordings was a smart one. The voices are close enough that we're able to experience them as drama, which, in the case of Johnny Cash especially, is likely how they were intended.

Like Walk the Line, The Hurricane tells the true story of a difficult man. Ruben “The Hurricane” Carter was a boxer, living the high life until he was arrested for a murder he seemingly did not commit. In real life, there's much controversy on this topic, but haven't we all seen enough movies at this point that we realize movies aren't real life? We have. Thank you. Anyway, in the movie, Carter is innocent and framed, yet spends years upon years in prison. In prison, he maintains his integrity as much as possible, refusing to wear a uniform and working diligently on his autobiography. And the years pass, and no one believes in the Hurricane. Other champs come and go, and he just sits there, in prison, waiting for a miracle.

And then it comes, in the form of three random Canadians. What? Okay, they probably weren't random Canadians. They were probably quite specific, thank you, and probably played a huge role in freeing Mr. Carter in real life. In the movie, they seem a little…tacked on. A little…let's come up with some white folks to save the day. Just a little. Anyway, this kid (Vicellous Reon Shannon ) is learning to read, and he picks up Hurricane's book in a used bin, and before you know it, the Canadians are on the case!

You know, Bob Dylan wrote a pretty kick-ass song about Hurricane. I'm just saying. Anyway.

The kid begins to correspond with Hurricane, and they start a friendship that is truly touching. When Hurricane gets the kid's diploma, it just killed me; it's one of several moments handled with sensitivity and intelligence by director Norman Jewison. The bad guys in Hurricane are sort of one-notedly evil, and the Canadians are so do-right and compassionate they border on Very Special. But Jewison keeps Hurricane rooted in reality, and keeps his internal life visible enough that we're willing to wait with him as long as it takes.

It doesn't hurt at all that Hurricane is played by Mr. Denzel Washington. In a career of powerful performances, this is probably his best. Washington hits every beat of Hurricane's life (from cocky celebrity to peaceful protester) without ever getting into milking his plight for our sympathies, like so many big stars do in movies like this. At one point, Hurricane is put in solitary confinement for a long stretch, and he slowly lets go of his humanity, sanity and seemingly his very senses in a scene of unbelievable intensity. Hurricane whispers and mumbles and rants while shadowboxing millimeters from the cinderblock wall. I suppose it's sort of cheesy to imagine that this man might be saved not by his immense personal strengths, but by something as The More You Know-ish as the power of the written word. On the other hand, it's pretty much the same the same thing that saved John Cash, isn't it?

Walk the Line: A
The Hurricane: B+