1281-1285

Chapter 1281: Across Time and Space

“Hey, Dallas!”

A sudden call startled Dallas, making him stand bolt upright. However, his overzealous movement caused him to lose his balance. He nearly showcased an impromptu face-plant performance, stumbling forward two steps, flailing his arms awkwardly before finally regaining stability. Quickly, he puffed out his chest and straightened his back, pretending nothing had happened.

When he lifted his head and saw who was calling, Dallas breathed a sigh of relief—it wasn’t Anson.

Dan-John Miller stood before him. With his lanky frame and perpetually blank expression, he resembled a walking stick, always maintaining an impassive demeanor.

“You okay?”

The concern in Dan-John’s voice was neutral, making it hard to tell if he was genuinely worried or just enjoying the spectacle.

But Dallas didn’t have time to ponder. He waved his hands quickly, signaling that he was fine.

Larry Bagby, standing off to the side, offered a smile meant to appear friendly. Unfortunately, his butcher-like face paired with a buzzcut made the smile look menacing instead—downright chilling, in fact.

“Are you nervous?” Larry asked.

Dallas stiffened, his defenses flaring, and instinctively lashed out. “No, I’m not nervous. You’re the one who’s nervous. Both you and Dan-John are practically quaking!”

Larry, hearing the evident tension in Dallas’s retort, found it amusingly ironic. Without defending himself, he pointed between himself and Dan-John.

“You should’ve seen us the first time we met Anson. I was convinced I’d wet my pants the next second.”

Dan-John nodded in agreement. “He’s serious.”

Larry added, “Hey, Mr. Miller, don’t act like you weren’t just as bad.”

Dan-John nodded again. “I was just as bad.”

Their brutally honest self-deprecation earned a small chuckle from Dallas, easing some of his tension. “Really? You’ve met Anson already?”

Larry nodded enthusiastically. “Yep. Unbelievable! At first, I thought, ‘It’s just Anson Wood, some 16-year-old kid, no big deal.’ But when I stood in front of him, all I could say was, ‘Hi, I’m Anson Wood.’”

Pfft.

Dallas burst into laughter. “Are you serious?”

Larry spread his hands. “Dead serious. Do you know what Anson said in response?”

Dallas shook his head, curiosity piqued.

Larry continued, “He said, ‘I’m Larry Bagby.’ He knew my name! Can you imagine how stunned I was in that moment?”

“I mean, I’m just a nobody. Even the casting director doesn’t know my name. But Anson did. Not only did he ease my embarrassment, but he also got my name exactly right. My God, I almost had a stroke on the spot.”

Dan-John added, “That was when he almost wet his pants.”

Dallas couldn’t hold it in anymore and broke into laughter.

Larry Bagby and Dan-John Miller were also small-time actors. Despite being in their 30s, they hadn’t landed any major roles in Hollywood—not even as recurring guest stars on TV. *Walk the Line* was the biggest opportunity of their careers.

In the film, they were cast as Johnny Cash’s early collaborators, Luther Perkins and Marshall Grant, members of the Tennessee Three.

While Luther and Marshall never achieved fame on their own, they remained Johnny’s close friends and were by his side for much of his career, pursuing their shared musical dreams.

In other words, this role not only gave them a chance to work with Anson and Reese but also ensured they’d share significant screen time with Anson.

Dallas was in a similar position. Playing Sam Phillips, every one of his scenes was directly tied to Johnny Cash.

Realization dawned slowly on Dallas, and his eyes widened as he looked at the two in shock.

“Wait, wait—you’re saying all your scenes are with Anson, just like mine. So why have you two met him, and I haven’t?”

The moment the words left his mouth, Dallas’s face turned pale.

“Am I being excluded? Did he invite you two to meet but deliberately leave me out?”

“Oh, God!”

Once the thought emerged, it spiraled uncontrollably. His mind raced with all kinds of wild speculation.

Larry watched this play out in disbelief. Waving his hands to stop the madness, he finally shouted, breaking the spell.

“Stop! Dallas, stop, stop, stop! It’s not what you think.”

Dallas paused, his eyes regaining a hint of clarity as he stared at Larry in confusion.

Larry exhaled deeply. “Thank goodness I stopped you in time. If I hadn’t, who knows where that imagination of yours would’ve taken you.”

“It’s not what you think.”

“Don’t misunderstand…”

Larry trailed off, noticing the murderous glare from Dallas. He swallowed hard and cut straight to the point.

It turned out that Anson had been working in the recording studio with the August 31st Band. He realized their work process might inspire the actors—not just Reese. So, he invited Larry and Dan-John to join the sessions.

Johnny Cash had come to Memphis with dreams of making music. He married Vivian there, but life proved harsh. With no idea how to launch his career, Johnny took a job as a door-to-door salesman to make ends meet.

In his spare time, he’d drink and play music with his friends Luther and Marshall, who worked as repairmen.

But Johnny wasn’t a great salesman, barely making enough to pay rent.

Vivian begged him to give up his dream. Her father had arranged a stable job for him, offering a way out of Memphis and into a secure life. Their argument left Johnny in despair.

In this low point, Johnny mustered the courage to approach Sun Records and pitch himself, landing an audition—the lifeline he desperately needed.

At the audition, Sam Phillips wasn’t impressed by Johnny’s gospel songs, which were overdone and uninspired. Instead, he wanted to see if Johnny had something original.

Forced to improvise, Johnny performed with Luther on guitar and Marshall on bass, creating a raw, unpolished sound.

This pivotal moment mirrored the dynamic of the August 31st Band. Despite being in different eras and circumstances, the two groups’ stories resonated deeply.

This connection led Anson to invite Larry and Dan-John to the studio, where they joined Reese and the band, working alongside Anson before even stepping onto the set.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1282: Sharpening the Blade at the Last Minute

"…Trust me, the first time I met Anson, I was a mess. Things were far worse than you could imagine."

"But here's the amazing thing: no matter what you imagine about Anson, he will shatter your expectations the moment you meet him, always leaving you pleasantly surprised."

"One thing I can say with absolute certainty is that he’s not a devil."

Larry, visibly excited, couldn’t stop his torrent of words.

Standing silently to the side, Dan-John suddenly interjected, "Are you sure?"

Larry froze.

Dallas, looking shocked, turned to Dan-John. "What do you mean?"

Dan-John remained expressionless. "I wouldn’t say I’m 100% sure he’s not a devil."

A pause.

"Of course, I’m not saying he is a devil, either."

Dallas’s knees nearly buckled as he stared at Dan-John, on the verge of tears.

Unfazed, Dan-John continued, seemingly unaware of the chaos his words were sowing. "Personally, working with Anson has been fascinating. He’s incredibly creative, full of ideas and inspiration. That kind of unrestrained freedom is something we can only dream of."

"The process of exploration is filled with surprises and twists. It’s exhausting but unforgettable."

"So when Anson suggested that we bring the vibe and inspiration from the recording studio to the set and decided to call the director to schedule the Sun Records scenes earlier, I’m not sure what Larry thought. But for me, it made sense. I could see the logic behind it."

"It’s like bungee jumping."

"Every time you stand on the edge, you scare yourself with all kinds of terrifying thoughts. But the moment you leap, the adrenaline and dopamine take over, and you can’t help but want to try again—only to question your sanity once you're back on the platform."

Dallas was taken aback. "Dan, Dan! What did you just say?"

Dan-John stopped. "I was talking about bungee jumping."

Dallas sighed, "Who’s talking about bungee jumping? I mean, before that. Are you saying that the sparks from your rehearsals in the studio inspired Anson, which led to the decision to move up the Sun Records scenes, throwing the entire crew into chaos?"

Dan-John looked at Dallas calmly, thought for a moment, and then nodded without a trace of surprise or hesitation.

"Exactly."

Dallas: …

So, the root cause of all the chaos in the crew was right here!

Dallas’s shock and disbelief crashed against Dan-John’s calm demeanor. Turning to Larry, he asked, "Don’t you realize how ridiculous this is?"

Larry spread his hands. "Yes, I do. But this is Anson Wood. I can’t say no to him. Can you?"

Dallas choked. "Even the director can’t. Do you think I can?"

Then, thinking about his own fate, darkness clouded his vision—

Larry and Dan-John had already worked with Anson, sparking creative chemistry in the studio that led to this chain reaction. But what about him?

What was he supposed to do?

Larry patted Dallas on the shoulder. "Buddy, I get it."

"But trust me, Anson will make things easier."

Dallas cried out, "I’m not worried about Anson. I’m worried about me."

Thinking quickly, Dallas decided now wasn’t the time for idle chatter. He needed to go over his lines a few more times. Even last-minute cramming might offer some peace of mind.

Before he could open his script, a commotion stirred among the crew.

"Ah! Ahhh!"

Boom!

Energy exploded instantly.

Without needing to turn around, Dallas looked at Larry with a face full of despair. "Anson’s here, isn’t he?"

Larry, all smiles, nodded enthusiastically. "God, he’s such a charming actor. Who could possibly dislike him?"

Amid greetings, laughter, and lighthearted chatter, the entire crew seemed enveloped in sunshine.

Everyone except Dallas.

It didn’t take long for Anson to notice—

Dallas couldn’t hide even if he tried. He forced a smile, but the stiff expression on his face made him look like a broken wooden puppet straight out of a horror movie.

"Nervous?" Anson asked.

Dallas nodded stiffly. Even such a simple motion seemed awkward, his neck muscles on the verge of snapping.

But Anson didn’t mind. "Me too."

Dallas was stunned.

Anson continued, "Look, in real life, I have to perform country music in front of a bunch of strangers? God, I’m a rebellious rock band frontman. Suddenly, I’m supposed to embrace gospel and country? I’m not sure I can deliver what’s expected in the script."

"In the film, my life is hanging by a thread, on the verge of collapse. Everything depends on this young guy I just met. He looks slick, isn’t even thirty, and claims to own this record company. I’m not sure he’s not a con artist."

"Forgive me, but my knees feel like jelly. I’m not even sure I can sing properly right now. Maybe I should warm up first."

His words, a mix of banter and self-deprecation, were delivered effortlessly.

Dallas, caught off guard, was slow to react. When he finally processed it, he couldn’t help but chuckle.

Looking at Anson, Dallas paused.

Then he burst into laughter. "Were you just taking a jab at Sam Phillips?"

Anson shrugged. "Sorry, but he really doesn’t look like the rock ‘n’ roll pioneer who discovered Elvis Presley."

Dallas nodded. "Fair enough. When Sam met Johnny, it was the lowest point in his career."

"He discovered Elvis Presley, pioneered the fusion of rhythm and blues with country, and laid the foundation for rock ‘n’ roll. But despite his public acclaim, no one knew about his struggles. He couldn’t turn the success of his records into commercial returns."

"At that time, he was on the brink of bankruptcy."

"With no choice left, he sold Elvis’s recording contract to RCA for $35,000. After losing Elvis’s shine, people quickly forgot about him and Sun Records. He became a nobody again."

"He was just a DJ who loved music. That passion led him to quit his job and start his own record label in Memphis."

"Do you know why he came to Memphis? Because of its inclusive atmosphere. It’s not just free; it’s wildly uninhibited. He wanted to combine the blues sung by Black artists with country music performed by white artists. He hoped to find a white artist willing to sing blues here in Memphis."

"So, after being forced to sell Elvis’s contract, he returned to music, searching for new possibilities."

"Because it’s the only thing he had; and the only thing he was willing to chase."

Dreams?

Music?

Perhaps both.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1283: Seamless Transitions

In the vanity fair of a commercialized society, discussing dreams is undoubtedly foolish.

Sam Phillips understood this perfectly—otherwise, he wouldn’t have sold Elvis Presley’s recording contract.

Yet, from another perspective, this was Sam’s only form of persistence and faith.

It was precisely this belief that led Sam to discover Elvis, helping him achieve greatness and laying the foundation for the birth of rock and roll.

Similarly, it was this same faith that allowed Sam to regain his peace after losing Elvis, continuing his grounded work in Memphis.

Even in a vanity fair, some people are foolish and naive enough to believe in dreams.

It was a low point, a chaotic and dark period. No one knew if Sun Records could rise again, and honestly, no one cared.

In the 1950s, independent music studios like Sun Records were countless—if not 10,000, then at least 8,000. Most were swept away by the tides of time, forgotten, just like RCA (Radio Corporation of America), which later fell from grace. Sun Records was quickly consigned to oblivion.

That was until Sam Phillips discovered Johnny Cash. Their collaboration during the 1950s became a hallmark of American music. Johnny’s album sales exceeded 10 million copies during that distant era, elevating Sun Records to a pinnacle in the industry.

Sam and Johnny’s partnership spanned three decades. It wasn’t until the mid-1980s, long after Johnny’s prime, that he transitioned to Columbia Records. Despite this, their camaraderie remained a rare gem in the cutthroat world of showbiz.

Sam made Johnny, and Johnny made Sam.

In 1986, Sam Phillips was inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame as a non-performer. While Elvis Presley was an icon, Johnny Cash was the most defining chapter of Sam’s career.

---

As Dallas recounted these details, he slipped into his own world, passionately sharing without a hint of hesitation. The earlier nervousness melted away.

Finally noticing Larry and Dan-John’s encouraging glances, Dallas abruptly stopped. He looked at Anson with trepidation, worried that he might have been too showy.

Just as Dallas was about to explain himself, Anson spoke first.

“Wow, you’ve done your homework.”

Dallas froze. “What?”

“I said, you’ve done your homework. Your understanding of Sam is incredibly thorough. You should trust yourself—you can do an excellent job.”

Dallas shrugged, deflecting the compliment with a self-deprecating grin.

“Hey, I’m just a shell, a facade. I’m no Daniel Day-Lewis.”

His casual humor lightened the mood. Dallas scratched his head and chuckled nervously, though the tension remained—

The first scene of Walk the Line, the one marking the turning point of his career, was a real challenge.

In this scene, Sam Phillips evaluates Johnny Cash. Though devoid of the arrogance often associated with record executives, Sam remains humble yet professional, delivering a cold and ruthless rejection to Johnny.

Yes, rejection.

For Dallas, this felt like delivering a harsh slap to Anson, setting the tone for a contentious start—and it was the first scene of filming. The pressure was inescapable.

Anson noticed Dallas’s unease, which was impossible to hide, and chuckled.

Apparently, in everyone’s eyes, Anson might as well have been Godzilla.

“Oh, the first scene? We’re diving straight into the recording studio,” Anson said.

Dallas yelped in surprise, unable to hold back his reaction. The laughter around them only grew louder.

At Sun Records, there were two scenes leading up to the recording studio sequence: one where Johnny casually discovers the studio and another where he, desperate and determined, pitches himself for an audition.

Only after those did Johnny enter the studio to record.

The first two scenes were relatively easy, requiring a natural performance. But since the extras hadn’t all been cast yet and the set wasn’t fully organized, the crew had opted to shoot the climactic audition scene first.

Dallas felt his knees go weak.

The momentary relief he had gained dissolved entirely, leaving him tense once more.

Larry, noticing Dallas’s anxiety, laughed gleefully.

“Buddy, we’re the ones auditioning, but you look more nervous than us. How’s that gonna work?”

Dallas wasn’t in the mood for jokes.

“NG—it’ll just keep happening. What else could go wrong?”

“I don’t want to mess up 99 times on the first day and make the whole crew hate me.”

Dallas tugged at his hair in frustration.

Dan-John chimed in calmly, “Careful. You’ll ruin your hairstyle and delay filming.”

His deadpan comment was neither mocking nor sarcastic, but it froze Dallas in place. He looked up, his face blank and devoid of hope, as if his soul had left his body.

Larry burst into laughter, thoroughly entertained.

---

Despite Dallas’s nerves, the filming had to proceed. The long-delayed shoot couldn’t afford more setbacks.

---

Outside the Sun Records Museum, Hunter and a group of tourists stretched their necks and stood on tiptoe, trying to glimpse the filming. But the studio walls blocked their view entirely.

Hunter frowned in frustration.

Something felt off. Weren’t they supposed to witness the crew filming and get a chance to explore Sun Records?

Instead, this was all they got?

“Eyes here, please.”

Cody appeared, like a tour guide at Universal Studios, leading the tourists and livening the atmosphere.

“The studio is small, so only essential staff and actors can be inside during filming. Everyone else, including the director, must stay outside to avoid disrupting the scene.”

Hunter’s irritation faded as he followed Cody’s gestures and noticed director James Mangold and the monitors displaying the recording studio scene in real time.

“Ah, it’s Anson!”

Someone called out, but Hunter’s attention was elsewhere.

Anson stood in a sharp black shirt and slacks, exuding elegance and confidence. His tall frame commanded attention, effortlessly embodying Johnny Cash’s iconic “Man in Black” image.

Hunter, however, shook his head dismissively.

“Johnny’s vibe was rugged. He’s too handsome—he doesn’t look like Johnny at all.”

Casting for biopics is always contentious, rarely pleasing everyone.

Nearby, Mangold caught wind of Hunter’s comment and replied with a knowing smile.

“That’s why people say there’s only one Johnny Cash. But even Johnny envisioned himself this way—handsome and dashing.”

The light-hearted remark drew laughter from the crowd, including Hunter.

End of Chapter.

Chapter 1284: Singing Style

Universal Studios Hollywood in Los Angeles offers a unique attraction where visitors can tour the entire filming lot. Guides narrate the behind-the-scenes stories of classic movies with humor and wit, creating an immersive experience. However, words can only go so far.

Nowadays, the Universal Studios filming lot has transformed into an amusement park. Visitors walk through various sets, imagining the scenes through props and guided commentary. Yet, this can hardly provide an authentic experience.

Here on Memphis’ Union Avenue, the experience is completely different.

It’s not just about the filming location. Visitors can fully witness the magic being created—the process of breaking the constraints of time and space to travel back half a century, vividly recreating Johnny Cash’s life.

The immersion? A solid 100 out of 100.

Hunter, who had been chattering away nonstop, suddenly fell silent. No one knew when it happened, but he was now entirely focused.

Outside the recording studio, the scene was bustling with activity.

Inside the studio, however, it was silent as a grave.

Even Larry found himself quieting down, watching Anson in his black outfit. The soundless recording studio increasingly resembled a cemetery.

Anson was adjusting his breathing, getting into character. Dallas held his breath completely, his mind filled with chaotic thoughts. He felt as if he might make a mistake at any moment, ruining the shoot and becoming the production’s scapegoat. He imagined his budding acting career ending before it even began.

The more he thought about it, the more nervous and panicked he became.

What should I do?

His gaze darted to Anson, but he didn’t dare make eye contact.

However, Dallas noticed something unusual—

What’s going on with Anson?

Anson was surveying the recording studio. His movements were cautious, with small shifts of his arms and feet. It was as if he feared being noticed, revealing his unease and nervousness. His eyes meticulously scanned every inch of the studio, exploring with a mix of greed and curiosity. Even the air seemed to captivate him.

A blend of tension and excitement made his shoulders and neck stiff. His black shirt clung to his skin—

Was that... sweat?

Dallas doubted his eyes, unsure what was happening to Anson.

Suddenly, he noticed Anson’s gaze drifting his way. Like a fox on thin ice, Anson cautiously perked up his ears, scanning his surroundings. Any slight disturbance would make his fur stand on end.

Their eyes met briefly, but Anson quickly looked away, pretending to inspect the recording equipment in front of him.

Dallas grew more puzzled. He couldn’t understand Anson’s behavior.

What is he doing?

Finally, Anson turned around, seemingly ready to begin the scene. He bowed stiffly and nervously toward Dallas, nodding slightly. Realizing he should make eye contact, Anson hesitantly glanced at him, meeting his gaze.

But Dallas noticed something odd—he couldn’t truly see Anson’s eyes. Anson’s gaze seemed to be focused slightly above, perhaps on his brow—or was it his forehead?

Dallas instinctively glanced upward, wondering if there was a hidden third eye on his forehead. By the time he looked back at Anson, the actor had already averted his gaze. His stiff and awkward body language exuded unease.

This Anson felt unfamiliar, like a completely different person.

If Dallas hadn’t just seen the confident, charming, and humorous Anson, he would never have associated this version with the dazzling superstar on the red carpet.

Dallas was confused and overwhelmed. His mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, unable to calm down. The scene in front of him only made it worse.

The atmosphere in the recording studio grew colder and heavier, filled with an awkward tension. Though not overtly oppressive, it was undeniably uncomfortable.

Dallas had no idea what was going on.

“Ready!”

The voice from the walkie-talkie—Mangold’s—instantly snapped everyone back to focus.

Dallas could clearly hear his own heart pounding against his chest—fast and hard, as if it might explode. His mouth was dry, his throat parched.

But Mangold didn’t seem to notice him.

“Anson, are you ready?”

All eyes were on Anson.

“No.”

The room froze. Then Anson added, “Can I run away now?”

Everyone realized he was joking and chuckled softly.

Mangold’s lips curled slightly in a faint smile, though it didn’t reach his eyes. He quickly grew serious again.

Although Anson was the actor Mangold and Kitcher had worked tirelessly to secure, and even Johnny Cash himself had approved of him, there’s a vast difference between theory and practice.

Even before filming began, the back-and-forth adjustments had been exhausting. Starting with such a challenging scene for the first shoot left Mangold uneasy. He wasn’t sure what to expect once the cameras rolled.

Seeing Anson’s apparent nervousness didn’t help Mangold relax.

To Mangold, they needed to trust Anson and give him the respect and affirmation he deserved. This was essential for collaboration. But if Anson botched the first take, Forest Pictures wouldn’t blame him—they’d blame Mangold for failing to lead as a director.

Mangold’s mind raced with possibilities, forcing himself to appear calm.

Is Anson nervous? Surely it’s just an act, right?

If Mangold knew the nervousness was real, he might’ve stopped breathing altogether.

Truthfully, Anson was nervous.

First, he had to portray Johnny Cash’s youthful inexperience.

In the 1950s, gospel music had an unparalleled influence and inspired the emergence of soul music. As a devout Christian, Johnny loved and was passionate about gospel music. He often imitated famous singers of the genre—Mahalia Jackson, Sam Cooke, Clara Ward, and others.

But imitation often meant losing individuality. Even if perfectly executed, it couldn’t surpass the original.

Sam Phillips, ever the innovator, believed the gospel music market was overcrowded and lacking unique voices. His vision of music didn’t align with Johnny’s style, so he had little interest in Johnny’s early performances.

Here, Anson needed to capture the essence of gospel music, strip Johnny’s uniqueness down to his youthful inexperience, and deliver a performance that was bland yet not unpleasant.

It was a daunting challenge—five or ten times harder than performing on the Grammy stage.

Singing perfectly was difficult; singing poorly, even harder. But singing averagely—that was the real challenge.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 1285: Setting the Atmosphere

Later, Meryl Streep, while portraying the tone-deaf diva in Florence Foster Jenkins, remarked that singing well is not hard, but singing off-key is a true challenge.

At least, it is for actors.

Now, Anson realized he needed to perform in a way that was neither good nor bad—neither out of tune nor off-key—but also devoid of energy. Everything had to be restrained, presenting a bland and uninspired performance. That was the real challenge.

And that wasn’t all.

Secondly, he had to imbue Johnny Cash's singing with a soul—a soul that belonged to Johnny yet didn’t. It had to originate from Anson’s understanding and emotional interpretation of Johnny's life experiences.

It felt like an impossible task.

In his previous life, Joaquin Phoenix’s performance in Walk the Line was undoubtedly outstanding. You could even glimpse the seeds of his later portrayal of the Joker.

However, Joaquin’s acting leaned heavily on “crutches”—alcohol, drugs, self-destruction, and madness—all aspects of exploring the dark side, releasing emotions outward. Opposite Reese Witherspoon’s effortless grace, his performance felt overpowered.

More importantly, his singing lacked finesse—a shortcoming that was glaringly obvious.

This deficiency wasn’t about pitch or rhythm but about expressiveness.

It’s hard to describe, impossible to touch or see, but it undeniably exists. Yet how to refine and elevate it remains elusive, leaving actors to figure it out on their own.

In the film, during Joaquin’s scene where Johnny Cash auditions at Sun Records, his singing exposed every flaw. His pitch was unstable, and his emotional expression was entirely chaotic.

Without accompaniment, his shortcomings as a non-professional singer were laid bare. Even setting aside technical aspects, his performance failed to convey layered emotions or weight through his singing. In the real world, if Johnny Cash sang like that, there’s no way he would’ve landed a record deal—

It was mediocre, even bad.

Even in other scenes where Joaquin did his own singing, the gap between his performance and the real Johnny Cash was glaringly apparent.

This time, the two Jameses chose Anson to play Johnny Cash, subtly altering the trajectory of history because of Anson’s musical talent.

In this regard, Anson had an advantage that Joaquin didn’t, and it represented a chance for Anson to give Johnny Cash’s biopic a new soul. Anson wasn’t claiming his performance would surpass Joaquin’s, but he hoped to interpret the character in his own distinctive style.

To do so, Anson needed to free himself from the constraints of memories from his previous life and carve out his own path.

Anson had always been aware that Walk the Line was, in a strict sense, his first true test of acting skill.

In portraying Johnny Cash, he was tasked with embodying a real person’s life and emotions while also channeling the emotional energy of a creative character. The complexity was far beyond imagination, posing a daunting challenge to Anson’s acting abilities.

Moreover, in his past life, Joaquin had earned an Oscar nomination for Best Actor for his work in this film. To say there wasn’t any pressure would be a lie.

Given Anson’s tense relationship with the Academy and his lingering “pretty face” label, the odds of the Academy snubbing him and refusing to acknowledge Walk the Line with a nomination were high. This meant Anson needed to work even harder and stay laser-focused. Even if not for the nomination, he had to give it his all for his own growth and progress.

At the very least, Anson hoped to deliver a performance he wouldn’t regret or be ashamed of.

Because of this, Anson had spent the past few months immersing himself in the role, living the life of an unknown musician.

One of the many reasons he skipped the Oscars was that he didn’t want to disrupt his rhythm. Stepping away from the environment created by the film’s production to attend Hollywood’s biggest night might risk losing his connection to the role.

Anson was trying to follow the vision and plans of the two Jameses while also leveraging his strengths to enter Johnny Cash’s world—

Starting with the music. Through melodies, lyrics, and performance, he sought to touch and feel the soul of Johnny Cash.

This was why Anson went so far as to disrupt the production schedule, moving up the Sun Records audition scene by two whole weeks.

From one recording studio to another, from rehearsing with the August 31st Band to collaborating with the Tennessee Three, including fine-tuning with Larry and Dan-John, every detail was a step toward preparing for the role. It was all seamless groundwork, hoping that through music, Anson could find his way into Johnny Cash’s world.

Clearly, this was both a challenge and an experiment.

Generally, when discussing a legendary singer, people first consider the person as an individual—a human being—and only then as a singer. Singing is just one aspect of their identity as a person. Only by understanding their humanity can one fully grasp their music.

That’s the normal sequence.

However, this time Anson decided to reverse the process. He chose to explore Johnny Cash through his music first. By understanding his music, performances, and the soul of Johnny as a singer, Anson hoped to uncover his struggles and scars, ultimately piecing together a picture of Johnny Cash the man through his music.

Was this approach authentic?

No, of course not, because this was “Johnny Cash the musician”—a version of him filtered through his music and how the public experienced him.

This depiction was neither entirely real nor complete.

But as Anson and Edgar had discussed during the early stages of Walk the Line, the script and the project were deeply imbued with Johnny Cash and June Carter’s spirit. Their goal wasn’t to present an unvarnished truth but rather to share the version of themselves they wanted the public to see.

Even the two Jameses were no exception. While the script portrayed Johnny Cash’s scars and struggles, it still represented the truths they were willing to share.

Through in-depth discussions with the Jameses, Anson at least agreed on one thing:

What they sought to portray was the reality as perceived by the public—the Johnny Cash who bared his soul through music and shared his truth courageously.

This version of truth might be incomplete and colored by artistic interpretation, but it was grounded in music. It aimed to show how an artist transforms life’s challenges into inspiration and ultimately into creation. When the audience could feel fragments of his soul through the melodies and lyrics, the film would have succeeded.

Based on this perspective, Anson believed Joaquin’s past performance… fell short.

As an actor, Joaquin’s emotional and psychological portrayal of scars was undoubtedly stellar—an extraordinary feat, even. But as a musician, his interpretation of Johnny Cash’s music was a failure. From the first audition scene at Sun Records, it missed the mark.

If Anson wanted to avoid repeating that mistake, if he wanted to escape the shadows of his previous life and deliver his unique performance, then that first scene at Sun Records was crucial.

(End of Chapter)