How often do we say it? Nobody knows anything. Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, a fond spoof of the conventions established by Ray and Walk The Line, hit American theatres last month. From the Judd Apatow (Knocked Up, Superbad) stable, this delightful knockabout boasted one of the funniest trailers in recent history and the thoroughly likeable John C. Reilly in the lead role. It couldn’t possibly fail in the Year Of The Apatow, could it? Sadly, the box office totals suggest that the studio might as well have charged admission to Eleanor Rigby’s funeral.
It can only fare better here and deserves as much. Bad ageing make-up, crazy exposition, half-a-century’s worth of the uniforms of youth culture, Walk Hard has a heap of fun with the music biopic. The Johnny Cash film may be the template – Dewey’s younger brother dies in a childhood machete fight in the opening scene – but with an additional nod to Grace Of My Heart, the plot contorts to take in Elvis (Jack White), The Beatles, Bob Dylan and even (momentarily) punk.
Many of the better jokes are based around personal introductions. “I’m Paul McCartney, the leader of The Beatles,” observes Jack Black in pointedly dreadful Scouse. Running gags about the bacchanalian consumption of drugs and groupies are equally enjoyable and probably closer to the mark than the hagiographical accounts that Walk Hard is saluting. At the lower, though extremely effective end of the comedy spectrum, the script features dozens of variations on the theme of “we want Cox” or “get Cox out”.
Hear, hear. Walk Hard may be slender in intention and target but we certainly won’t be saying ‘no’ to Cox.