A winsome Tilda Cobham-Hervey leads a rote rags-to-riches tale, though its rampant sexism is a villain women will recognize. Needs to be seen, even if it’s not quite the tribute Helen Reddy deserves.
Nascent celebrity culture and the myth of the artist’s muse are skewered by the tale of Johnny Cash’s first wife, Vivian Liberto, told by her daughters and a trove of vintage photos and love letters.
Joyful and rowdy, self-deprecating and vulnerable, absolutely electrifying as it deconstructs the sex-drugs-and-rock’n’-roll story. Taron Egerton is chills-inducingly good. Sheer cinematic magic.
Enjoy some badass Brad Pitt set to some badass Johnny Cash.
We know how it is: You’d like to go to the movies this weekend, but you really hate those 3D glasses– oh, who are we kidding: you’re gonna see Avatar this weekend if you have to knock over someone’s granny for a ticket. But just in case you’re feeling the slightest bit guilty about having … more…
Now, I love Johnny Cash, but something about this terrifies me. Perhaps one Christmas special on its own would be fine, but the piling on of them just feels wrong. Did we learn nothing from the plague of 70s celebrity variety shows?
Oh, it’s completely implausible, sure, but rather enticing as well: could three low-level employees at a Federal Reserve bank really walk out the front door with wads of bills that had been destined to be shredded?