You guessed it, hepcats. It has begun, and hot damn if it didn't start with a bang.
Saw Walk the Line this weekend, and it was excellent. Even the screaming headache I got from watching it from the third row wasn't enough to temper how very good it was. Joaquin Phoenix nailed it, and though I'm less familiar with the real deal June Carter Cash and can't speak for the veracity of that particular performance, I thought Reese Witherspoon did an outstanding job as well (on top of being totally and completely cutiepie throughout). It follows your typical rock biopic format, so there are no real curveballs in there (aside from the fact that all of the actors did their own singing, perhaps), but every character was so engaging and well-performed that it doesn't really matter. I just didn't want it to end.
And James Mangold, man, where did you come from? He's like the chameleon auteur. I mean, to go from Kate & Leopold to Identity to this? It's enough to make a person's head spin. But consider me officially a fan, because the man's yet to do me wrong.
In non-Oscar related news, I also saw a movie called Dead Men Walking, which was wonderfully vile. I can't remember the last time I saw that many people vomit blood (I think everyone in the movie does it at least once, with some folks goin' for a good baker's dozen). In it, a prison suffers an outbreak of viral zombieism (solanum!) when a man arrested for shooting several friends (zombies) in the face and then trying to kill himself is brought in and starts spewing blood on everyone he passes in the hall. It's pretty much downhill from there for the the poor inmates and the plucky (and busty!) CDC official that joins the cast to exposit over their chances for rescue and containment. Joe Bob Briggs would approve, and I do too.
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