Johnny and June: Because of her, he walked the line

It's easy and perhaps inevitable to compare James Mangold's Johnny Cash biopic "Walk the Line" with "Ray," last year's Oscar-blessed drama about a famous musician who learns to overcome his demons. Each features vivid performances, heroic struggles against addiction and a warts-and-all view of the man at its center. ("Walk the Line" even comes with a hero haunted by a brother lost in childhood — just like "Ray.") But watching Joaquin Phoenix and Reese Witherspoon in "Walk the Line" kept bringing up memories of a different movie, and a fine one: "Coal Miner's Daughter," the 1980 biopic in which Sissy Spacek became Loretta Lynn before our eyes.

The distinction here is actors doing their own singing, as opposed to lip-syncing to a soundtrack, and it's not necessarily the key to a successful music biopic. I can't imagine anyone better channeling Tina Turner than Angela Bassett in "What's Love Got to Do With It," even though we knew it was Turner's voice we heard, and Kevin Spacey's doing his own vocals didn't give much oomph to last year's Bobby Darin biopic "Beyond the Sea."

But Phoenix and Witherspoon, two actors not previously known for their musical endeavors, give performances here of complexity and heart, and their soulful crooning adds a layer of realism that keeps us in the moment. We believe that these two are indeed Johnny Cash and June Carter, two up-and-coming singers in the '50s and '60s whose troubled romance played out over years of touring, shared microphones, marriages to other people and unbroken love.

Movie review

Showtimes and trailer

"Walk the Line," with Joaquin Phoenix, Reese Witherspoon, Shelby Lynne, Robert Patrick, Ginnifer Goodwin, Waylon Malloy Payne, Johnathan Rice, Tyler Hilton. Directed by James Mangold, from a screenplay by Mangold and Gill Dennis, based on "Man in Black" and "Cash: The Autobiography" by Johnny Cash. 136 minutes. Rated PG-13 for some language, thematic material and scenes of drug dependency. Several theaters.

Their singing isn't imitation but homage, and it's easily good enough to be mistaken for the real thing. Phoenix, in particular, lets his singing grow in confidence — just as Cash's would have over the years. His throaty growl seems to get lower and lower, as if he keeps discovering new depths.

Mangold adds some nice touches to what's essentially a standard biopic format: The rhythmic, menacing thud of the convict audience at Cash's 1968 Folsom Prison concert gives the film a backbeat, and Mangold peppers the cast with a few ringers from the music world. (Shooter Jennings contributes a smart cameo as his own father, Waylon.)

But "Walk the Line" is less music history than love story, and it comes down to the performances of the two people at its center, both of which are splendid. Phoenix, looking young but weary, has the showier role; his John is a mess, addicted to speed and prone to fits of temper. The angel he needs, it turns out, is just over at the next microphone: June Carter, daughter of country-music royalty.

Witherspoon, her posture erect and her determined chin jutting, plays June as a perfectly behaved little sister, drawn to John's darkness only because she wants to bring him into her light. But she's no saint herself, and she's all too aware of it.

In a lovely, low-key scene in a store, when a woman criticizes June for her divorce, Witherspoon replies quietly, "I'm sorry I let you down, ma'am." Her personal life is on display, and she regrets not giving the prettiest possible picture. She's a tiny tower of strength, and when John finally proposes — on stage, of course — her voice shrinks down to a whisper. "All right," she says, and we realize that this rocky story has an ending worthy of any fairy tale.

Moira Macdonald: 206-464-2725 or mmacdonald@seattletimes.com