“Let’s put it this way… maybe I’ll sleep with you if you’re the last man on earth. But we’re not on earth.” - Melanie Ballard, Ghosts of Mars

By Lisa Fary

I usually only watch musical biopics if I want to get good and depressed.  Enter Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story, which gives the music biopic a desperately needed kick in the nuts.

Walk Hard doesn’t just parody Walk the Line, it parodies every music biopic ever made, while at the same time being a biopic of someone who never existed. Dewey has his childhood tragedy, his innocent start in the music business, his quick downfall into drugs and polygamy, his recovery, another downfall, settling down to spend time with his family, and finally, his comeback.

Walk Hard also works as sort of a mocking history of American music - Dewey’s music starts out with heartfelt country, moves on to darker Johnny Cash styles, and works his way through the Beatles, Bob Dylan, some punk, and eventually hip hop sampling.  

It made me think of Ani DiFranco. Not Ani in general, but particularly her song, “Little Plastic Castle”:

They say goldfish have no memory

I guess their lives are much like mine 

And the little plastic castle

Is a surprise every time

Like most parodies, for Walk Hard to be funny every time, it helps to have the memory of a goldfish.  Or limit the viewing to every few years or so.  Walk Hard could almost be the Hot Fuzz of musical biopics, but I think it’s the delivery that holds it back.  Everyone is so over the top and hammy that you never forget you’re watching a parody.  The exception is Jenna Fischer (Pam from The Office) who plays her character with enough subtlety that her comic scenes stand out over the rest of the cast.  

Unlike Walk Hard, Juno isn’t a balls out comedy (although, since Juno is pregnant, it stands to reason that there were balls involved).  Imagine if Wes Anderson directed a very special episode of Gilmore Girls where Rory gets knocked up - that’s pretty much the tone and the sensibility.  

Juno did unexpected things with the very common story of teen pregnancy: there was no dramatic reveal to her parents involving screaming, slammed doors and crying.  There was no teenage girl fawning over whether the boy loved her or not.  There was no confrontation with the evil high school principal (or teacher or librarian or queen bee) who finds Juno to be morally lacking.  Juno’s parents are awesome about the situation, the boy does the fawning, and school isn’t really an issue here. 

Honestly, I’ve known dozens of pregnant teens over the years and I think that really colored my reception of Juno.  I was thrilled that she recognized that she was ill-equipped to raise a baby.  I was ecstatic that Juno’s family and friends didn’t guilt trip her about putting the baby up for adoption (a lot of the girls I knew considered adoption to be worse than abortion).  I was never really pulling for the adoptive parents or for the baby - I was rooting for Juno to not fall into the teen motherhood trap. 

What does that say about the status of teenage girls in American cinema when a well-adjusted girl makes a good decision that is supported by her family. . . and it’s described as “surprising” and “refreshing”?  

Walk Hard had more belly laughs, but Juno had more heart.  Walk Hard was also predicable, which is an albatross Juno doesn’t have to deal with.  Juno wins. 

The winners’ circle so far. . .

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Lisa Fary is a graduate of the creative writing program at Florida State University and holds an advanced degree in Special Education. Her early exposure to classic Battlestar Galactica in 1979 is largely responsible for her lifelong interest in science fiction and her childhood ambition of being an intergalactic space cowgirl.