Walk The Line [Extended Cut]

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I don't know about you, but I'm getting a bit tired of all these "Extended Editions" that are being released. Most of them take a handful of deleted scenes and insert them into the film and call it a day, while others include so much from the cutting-room floor that it turns into a whole new (and not necessarily improved) movie. So what does "Walk the Line" do? Well, I have to admit that the first time I saw it I wasn't able to identify too many scenes that didn't appear in the 2006 DVD release. Maybe that's partly because that release featured the theatrical version of the film at an already-long 135 minutes. This extended cut doesn't just add a little to the top, like an unneeded haircut in reverse. Eighteen minutes have been added--but as far as I can tell, it was a little here, and a little there. Ten deleted scenes were included as bonus features in the previous release, and here there are just two: "At the bank" and "Memphis streets." So it appears as though director James Mangold (or someone) inserted the other eight scenes: "Jack's funeral," "Cry cry cry," "Broken record," "Ezra and Maybelle Carter," "I still miss someone," "On the phone," and "The sermon." Does it make a significant difference? I'm sure for many people it will, but for me I'd be just as happy to have either version in my home video collection.

That's because "Walk the Line" seemed to have Oscar buzz even before it hit the theaters. Someone has to start it. Maybe it's a job: Oscar buzzer. Go to all the movie theaters in your territory and by-pass the line to go directly to the front, then walk past everyone waiting to get in while you say to your companion, "This movie has Oscar written all over it." What everyone heard beforehand was "This movie has Oscar written all over it," and the statue had Joaquin Phoenix's name on it because he sings his own songs.

Fair enough. Though, the first time I watch Phoenix open his mouth to sing, I'm thinking, "Yikes, not even close." Then he gradually begins to pick up the tone and style of Johnny Cash, as well as the Cash sneer that seems to come almost naturally to Phoenix because of that famously distinctive scar on his upper lip. By the time he's onstage belting out the countrified R&B tune "Get Rhythm" to an audience of adoring rock-a-billy lovers, dang if he doesn't sound exactly like Cash. And when he raises his guitar above the shoulders to pluck it and his whole upper torso stiffens, it's vintage Johnny C., and you'd have to say that Phoenix's portrayal of the Man in Black is every bit as strong as Jamie Foxx's uncanny channeling of Ray Charles. And hey, while Foxx did his own piano playing, the man lip-synched, the way that any normal, sane actor would. I mean, who in his right mind would presume to be able to mimic a style as distinctive as Cash's train-rolling baritone? And because Phoenix, or perhaps director James Mangold, wanted to show the development of Cash's style in the early days rather than jumping right into the deep end with a finished sound, it means that we see him sound not like Cash at all, then start to sound a little like him, then more, more, and finally, bingo. As any singer can tell you, it's a heckuva lot harder playing with levels of musical competence than it is belting out a single sound. But Phoenix does a great job with the vocals on all levels.

Still, when I saw this film way before the Oscars and wrote about it for this site, the one who impressed me was Reese Witherspoon as country legend June Carter. I predicted then that she would win the Best Actress Oscar, and of course she did. That doesn't make me a genius, mind you. I think anyone who looked at the former star of "Legally Blonde" or even "Sweet Home Alabama" would have recognized instantly how much she elevated her performance for "Walk the Line." As the perky Carter, Witherspoon gets a chance to explore a real complex character--and by "complex" I don't mean feeling goofy one minute and pensive the next. I mean, here's a character with real contradictions and layers that you could peel away, except it's an infinity onion and you'd end up peeling over the same layers again and again, because that's how complex people are. And like Phoenix, Witherspoon handles her own vocals. In this case, she actually has a clearer and stronger voice than Carter, whom we hear singing in duet for the film's closing credits--no doubt to give us a basis for comparison. In a way, Carter is a more interesting character than Cash, because she isn't as predictable. And when you see them in duet--Phoenix as Cash, and Witherspoon as Carter--it's the latter that you're drawn to. When they sing "Jackson," which earned a Grammy for Cash and Carter, it's incredibly exciting.

The film begins, appropriately, with the band at Folsom Prison playing the rousing intro to Cash's mega-hit, "Folsom Prison Blues" (1968), which resulted in the singer's first solo Grammy. The joint is rockin' and the energy level is high voltage--What better way to pull an audience in?--but Cash is backstage in the woodshop room, staring at the blade of a table saw. Then it's flashback to his boyhood in Kingsland, Arkansas, where he was one of two sons born to poor sharecroppers who pick cotton by hand as a family. The father (Robert Patrick) is a drunk who's abusive and favors the son who, like Ray Charles' brother, never makes it past childhood. But there's less visual razzle-dazzle in "Walk the Line," and less heavy-handedness in the way that Mangold chooses to depict the impact that the childhood loss had on Cash, or his state of mind while under the influence of the pills he later grew addicted to. In my book, that's a plus. Along the way there are the type of mythical, anecdotal scenes we've come to expect from biopics, especially ones depicting the lives of musicians. In this case, there's the legendary Sam Phillips (Dallas Roberts) and his "discovery" of Cash, plus scenes of road life and Cash's desperate attempts to connect with parents who still mourn the death of "the good son."

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