Walk The Line opens at Folsom Prison in 1968. Johnny Cash was about to record the defining album of his career and as the camera slowly creeps around penitentiary walls and into the deserted compound, a pumping bass-line sets toes and hearts beating. From this opening sequence, effortlessly directed by James Mangold, you know you’re in good hands. Backstage, Cash (Phoenix) is side-tracked by the memory of a buzz-saw which, thirty-five years earlier, had killed his brother. That moment defined his life, and the failed relationship with his father (Patrick). No doubt it also contributed to a dependency on alcohol and amphetamines, and the inevitable breakdown. It also accounted for his brilliant musicianship, and the lifetime relationship with June Carter (Witherspoon).

Since all good story-telling is found in bad years, Walk The Line concentrates on the rough times until Cash’s marriage to lifelong sweetheart June Carter (Witherspoon). There’s unsupportive family, a shrewish wife, his contract with legendary Sun Records, concerts alongside Jerry Lee Lewis and Elvis Presley, drug dependency, divorce and unrequited love. All grist for a remarkable story of romance and song which won Phoenix and Witherspoon a Golden Globe each.

They’re powerhouse performances most notable for standout vocals (they sung all of the live shows themselves) which, contextualised, literally drip with emotion. Yet Walk The Line is much more than its lead actors. Mangold first made a name for himself with a quiet, informative character study. After sometime in the wilderness, the delicate timbre which made Heavy such a nuanced debut has been recaptured here and given full voice. Walk The Line is a stirring feature that sits firmly among the great musical biopics.

 // COLIN FRASER