Musical biopics, for the most part, are complete bullshit. Like any other group of films, they have their genre staple (Coal Miner’s Daughter), tried-and-true formula (Walk the Line) and the occasional exceptions to rise above the rules (this year’s Control and La Vie En Rose). But even the best and most successful musical biopics descend into the sex, drugs and rock ‘n’ roll cliché.
So who better than 2007’s patron saint of comedy, Judd Apatow, to deliver a much-needed bitchslap to the rock bio flick? Knocked Up, written and directed by Apatow, restored grace and vulgarity to the romantic comedy. As the producer behind Superbad, Apatow contributed to the best teen movie in the post-Dazed and Confused era. And just in time for the holidays, his final entry of the year could have been a dead-on spoof classic.
Instead, Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story finds Apatow and writing partner Jake Kasdan (The TV Set) a little starved for ideas. The film is an able-enough parody of recent films such as Walk the Line and Ray, but not much more. Where Knocked Up and Superbad both managed a perfect union between comedy and character, Walk Hard focuses on the former while neglecting the latter.
Dewey Cox (John C. Reilly, Year of the Dog) is the quintessential rock history composite character. He moves from Buddy Holly’s teenage anthems to Johnny Cash’s twang, through Roy Orbison’s hallowing vocals and Bob Dylan’s folkie weirdness, into Brian Wilson’s maddening brilliance and back again – all in less than 2 hours. Along the way he meets Elvis, meditates with The Beatles and invents punk rock.
The ultra-condensed timeline proves good for a few laughs, but Walk Hard delivers its best when sticking to the music. Reilly, finally receiving his due with a top-billed role, keeps things fresh as Cox tumbles into each new drug addiction, love interest and musical persona. Ultimately, however, his greatest achievements come on record, and not on screen.
In the title track, “Walk Hard,” the hysterically sexual “Let’s Duet” and the absurdly Dylan-esque “Royal Jelly,” we can hear where most of the admiration and adoration went in the creative process. The story and dialogue hover only slightly above the painfully obvious spoof work of Scary Movie or Not Another Teen Movie (well, not quite that bad), while the soundtrack manages to simultaneously poke fun at and pay homage to that which it lampoons.
While in search of his masterpiece, Cox gets hooked on LSD (after previously kicking his pot, coke and pill habits) and goes Brian Wilson. He grows a beard and spends eight months in the studio perfecting “Black Sheep,” a song layered in orchestras, fuzz guitar, braying goats and didgeridoos. Wilson collaborator Van Dyke Parks creates a clever jab at the excessive nature of The Beach Boys’ Smile sessions, but more importantly, he pens a phenomenal song. Kasdan and Apatow give us a mildly amusing riff on Wilson’s descent into insanity, nothing more.
And once the thrill of spotting cameo after cameo wears thin (Frankie Muniz, Jack White, Harold Ramis!) and the soundtrack fades into the background, Walk Hard gets left in a rut. Reilly and co-stars Jenna Fischer (The Office) and Tim Meadows (The Benchwarmers) do all Kasdan and Apatow could ask for. But while the performers all appear to be having a great time, this fun does not necessarily transfer to the audience.
It would be lazy to accuse Apatow of overextending himself; after all, Walk Hard does accomplish its fairly simple aims. Instead, the problem appears to be in the approach. Musical biopics are ridiculous in their distortion of fact and history – no kidding. But over-dramatization and “truthiness” play a large part in almost any Hollywood production involving stories and characters that maybe somehow at some point might have possibly resembled actual events and real people. Walk Hard too often focuses on satirizing the biopic structure.
Truth be told, there is more humor in “Royal Jelly” than in all the spoken dialogue in Walk Hard – and a lot more creativity, too. Dewey’s tumultuous career follows exactly every bullet point in the great book of rock ‘n’ roll excess, and never veers away from predictability.
For Walk Hard, the filmmakers needed to take a cue from Edgar Wright and Simon Pegg, the British geniuses behind Hot Fuzz and Shaun of the Dead. Both films are essentially spoofs, but at the same time, each movie becomes a worthy entrée in the targeted genre. They call for us to re-examine what we love and hate about the movie formulas studios hand us time and time again.
Walk Hard merely magnifies the genre familiarities, as if exaggeration alone should suffice in place of well-crafted comedy. At least we will always have the music.
zherrm@umd.edu
RATING: 3 STARS OUT OF 5
