Directed by James Mangold

Twentieth Century Fox

4 1/2 stars

1968. Folsom Prison. The walls are gray, the guards are getting worried, and the inmates are pounding the floor with lace-less boots. Onstage, the band is playing a thrumming bass line, glancing nervously at each other. In the back room, Johnny Cash (Joaquin Phoenix) is staring at a table saw. On this day, he will record his hit album, “At Folsom Prison.” Before the show, though, we need to know how he got there.

James Mangold’s Cash biopic, “Walk the Line”—in the works for almost 10 years—is adapted from the Man in Black’s own autobiographies and a series of interviews with him and his second wife, June Carter (Reese Witherspoon). The film follows the singer’s life for more than 30 years, examining his highs and lows while steering clear of exploitative “VH1: Behind the Music” territory.

Despite the film’s depiction of Cash’s brother’s horrific early death, a rocky relationship with his father, a failed marriage, and the ubiquitous ’60s addiction to “the pills,” this is no foray into bathos. Cash’s love affair with Carter remains the focus of the movie, giving a coherent theme to all the chaotic elements of his life.

“Walk the Line” is a “Ray”-caliber biopic. Unlike “Ray,” however, it makes no attempt to cast Cash as a legend in the making, choosing instead to focus on his humanity. Nothing is overdramatized, a wise choice when dealing with a man with a voice like sandpaper who sang for “good Christian folk” and inmates alike.

It is this same popular appeal of Cash’s which makes the film appropriate for a wide variety of audiences. Whether you grew up belting out “Ring of Fire” or are an absolute newcomer to Cash’s music, his life story is enough to grab you and keep you watching.

“Walk the Line” gives us the straight story, portraying a man who got his slow-paced sound because he couldn’t sing any faster, who got his style because he didn’t have any other shirts.

Initially, Phoenix’s low-emotion performance seems stilted, but from the first moment he sings a note, everything springs into relief. Glimmers of Cash’s shy, awkward inner self shine through the blustery tough-guy front he puts up for the public. This is a man who famously sang, “I shot a man in Reno/just to watch him die,” but, faced with June Carter’s wisecracks, turns into a blushing fool.

Phoenix is superb at stepping fully into Cash’s shoes, whether stumbling incoherently through conversation at the depths of his amphetamine addiction, or rocking out on stage next to Jerry Lee Lewis (Waylon Payne). Cash’s home life may not have been perfect, but Phoenix takes every blow as though he were born to the role.

As June Carter, Witherspoon draws on her Tennessee roots to come up with the strongest, sassiest portrait of a Southern girl since Scarlett O’Hara. Witherspoon has been a bit remiss in her movie choices as of late (“Just Like Heaven”), but, in this film, she returns to the acting promise seen in 1999’s “Election.”

Neither actor looks much like the person they portray, but their interpretations are good enough to make up for this minor flaw. They slip easily into the roles, picking up mannerisms and life truths so simply that it is impossible to avoid falling under the story’s spell. Even their renditions of the songs are impressive; it’s almost impossible to differentiate Phoenix and Witherspoon’s versions from the originals.

The film’s soundtrack is amazing, and you will be singing Johnny Cash songs for the next few days, much to the annoyance of roommates and neighbors. True, if the sound of country music makes you violently ill, you probably should steer clear, but if your dislike doesn’t verge on utter loathing, you may want to give the film a chance. The man’s story is compelling in itself, and the music will creep under your skin enough that you might just find yourself tapping your toes to the beat by the end of the film.