Directed by Matt Riddlehoover
Running time: 1 hour and 30 minutes

by Rosalie Kicks, Old Sport

“Please ask your wife to stop calling our daughters her children.”

I saw James Mangold’s Walk The Line (2005) “biopic” on musical legend Johnny Cash twice in the theater. At the age of twenty-two, this was my introduction to the country singer and I was enthralled. After my initial viewing, I purchased a Johnny Cash album and decided that my mother was wrong about having an all-black wardrobe. I also left the theater thinking,“Man his first wife was such a b*%t#h.”

Of course I was wrong in thinking this and this was due to the incorrect narrative painted in Walk The Line. I suppose I shouldn’t be too surprised by the vile portrait of Vivan (Johnny Cash’s first wife) being that the story was penned by a duo of dudes, one of which was the writer behind the illustrious, nightmare fuel that is Return to Oz. Here’s the thing… at twenty-two I was wrong about a lot of things, especially when it came to films. Despite having a film degree, I had no idea what in the hell I was yammering on about. How could I? I had not even watched a Samuel Fuller or a Lois Weber picture at that point. In the words of the great Walter Sobchak, I had no frame of reference. Most likely, it makes ya wonder what the heck I was even learning in film school. I still had the belief that a “biopic” was laying out all the facts before me and that I could trust the filmmaker to tell an accurate story. HA! I was such an ameatuer. Fortunately, I watched more movies, I got smarter, I became a piece of film. I got a clue and realized “biopics” are essentially farces that are wrapped up and packaged in that glittery, tinsley movie magic.

My Darling Vivian is being sold as a documentary, but serves more as a heartfelt and loving eulogy. Johnny Cash’s four daughters aim to not only tell the story of their mother (and their father’s first wife) Vivian Distin, but to provide their version of the relationship. With that comes exposing the myths and filling in the gaps as best as they can remember. Through the use of personal statements from the Cash daughters, old family video footage and letters, Vivian’s story is told.

One of my favorite moments of the film was when the daughters were describing how their parents first met. Split up over talking head interviews - each daughter in their own space - they divulge the details of the “love at first sight” encounter at a local roller rink. There may have been a question on whether a collision caused the initial meeting and sparks to fly. However, much like what I assume can be said for any family, it is the various renditions that add a certain kind of charm. I still hear my late grandparents bickering back and’ forth about their story at an ice cream stand in which my grandfather decided to just hop in the back of the car. If you spoke to my grandfather he would say she was smitten right away, whereas my grandmother would beg to differ; she thought he was a loon. Kinda like with the telephone game, sometimes the story doesn’t come out the same on the other side.

I had a fondness for learning about Vivian and John’s relationship via mail correspondences during his time in the war. The act of sending close to a thousand letters back n’ forth made me swoon. It also made me recognize that I am a hopeless romantic after all and got me thinking how these snail mail records served as such a wonderful account of their family’s history. Made me wonder how we will look back in this digital age? (Note to Ben - get ready for some mixtapes, I am going analog)

Overall, My Darling Vivian is a touching portrait that I believe has the power to induce all the warm and fuzzy feels, inspire one to call their mother and have you question Ginnifer Goodwin’s portrayal of Vivian in the famed Mangold biopic. For me, I realized the power of this narrative and the importance that the family’s particular account now has. Before hearing this side of the tale, Vivian’s story wasn’t erased, it never existed in the first place. The yarn spun in Walk The Line failed to show the significance that Vivian had on Johnny’s life or her children. Instead it chose to paint June Carter as a patron saint of motherhood and the one responsible for turning Johnny’s life around. Vivian was not a nag or a stuck-up priss with a perpetual stick up her butt. Nah. Vivian was a caring mother (I be failing if I didn’t mention: with rad style too) and wife that put up with a dude with a dream… why? Because she loved him.

Watch at home via virtual cinema starting Friday - more info available here.

*Listen to the Old Sport’s soooooothing voice on Moviejawn’s Cinematic Crypt podcast.*