Love as Redemption

The American Dream Myth and the Celebrity Biopic

Glenn D. Smith Jr.
Mississippi State University

Journal of Communication Inquiry Volume 33 Number 3 July 2009 222-238 2009 The Author(s) 10.1177/0196859909333696 http://jci.sagepub.com

This research documents the American Dream in two popular biopics: Ray (2004) and Walk the Line (2005). In both films, the American Dream, framed by the ideology of individuality, follows a particular trajectory: Struggle, individual effort, responsibility, and talent lead to material wealth, but the protagonists' immoral behaviors overwhelm them, thus creating a host of professional and personal problems. The relevance of racism and class struggle, long identified as significant barriers to upward mobility, is minimized for a more personal issue, psychological trauma, to explain their moral declines. Both films resolve the natural tensions between the material (individualism) and the moral (brotherhood) by introducing the Hollywood love story as an acceptable narrative for the lead character's redemption. The mythology allows for a more feminine narrative (heterosexual romantic love) as moral resolution, one that avoids the more complicated notions of brotherhood (racial and class equality) as part of the ideological equation. Keywords: myth; American Dream; film; race; class

y one account, no society has worshiped the celebrity figurethat person who is known for his [or her] well-knownnessas intently as Americans have (Fishman, 2003, p. 203). The roots of modern American celebrity may be traced to the Industrial Revolution, as the telegraph and the steam-power printing press increased the production and consumption of information. As a result, celebrity, once tied to acts of heroism, achieved exclusively on the field of battle or by divine right, became the property of the masses (Braudy, 1986; Gamson, 1994). P. T. Barnum, chief among the publicity architects, understood that fame was not just the result of individual recognition but also the invention and manipulation of image. In using the press to publicize his various enterprises, Barnum drew a fine line between truth and exaggerationand defined modern show business techniques of promotion along the way (Gamson, 1994).
Authors Note: I thank Megan Foley and the anonymous reviewers for their feedback and helpful suggestions on an earlier version of this article. Correspondence concerning this article should be addressed to Glenn D. Smith Jr., Department of Communication, Mississippi State University, P.O. Box PF, Mississippi State, MS 39762; e-mail: gsmith@comm.msstate.edu. 222

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The Hollywood star system that evolved during the early part of the 20th century, for example, was an illusion, an integral part of the business of producing, distributing, and exhibiting the moving image. Struggling actors and newcomers were blank slates, their otherwise ordinary names, appearances, and lives reinvented by studio publicists for mass consumption and profit. The potential stars climb to fame was an important selling point in this process, and accordingly, framed in a variety of gossip columns and fan magazines as a rags to riches narrative, with the polished final image presented to fans as an embodiment of the American values of individual struggle, responsibility, and financial success (Gamson, 1994, pp. 25-27). Thus, the celebrity became, and has since remained, a marketable symbol of the American Dream, a mythology that promotes the ideals of individuality and brotherhood (equality and compassion for all) as key to successful upward social mobility. The American Dream is the gold standard by which we measure individual success and failure. As one of the most pervasive of cultural myths, it continues to be communicated through variety of popular media, including mainstream film texts (Cavalcanti & Schleef, 2001; Pileggi, Grabe, Holderman, & de Montigny, 2000; Roberts, 2006; Winn, 2000, 2003, 2007). Given the American Dreams consistent representation in film, and the obvious connection between the myth and celebrity culture, an examination of the celebrity biopic (a genre that promotes the rise, fall, and eventual redemption of the extraordinary individual) is warranted. Doyle (2006) suggested the biopic draws upon and reinforces cultural narratives, so how, then, is the American Dream communicated in the celebrity biopic? This research addresses that question by documenting Hollywoods use of the American Dream myth in Ray (Hackford et al., 2004) and Walk the Line (Cash et al., 2005), both critically acclaimed and commercially successful biographical films about the celebrity musician (see Arnold, 2005; Jones, 2004; Morgenstern, 2004; Puig & Clark, 2005; Scott, 2004; Segal, 2006). Both films document the lives of two music pioneers whose careers came of age during the rock-n-roll era of the mid-20th century, who found longevity playing to baby-boom audiences, and, near the end of their lives, recorded albums for the next generation. Both films, too, offer the opportunity to examine a cultural myth that speaks to economic and racial equality but favors only those individuals who successfully transcend those boundaries without societys help (Pileggi et al., 2000). As communicated in the celebrity biopic, the American Dream, framed by the ideology of individuality, follows a particular trajectory: personal struggle, individual effort, responsibility, and unique talent lead to great material wealth for both protagonists, but their immoral behavior eventually overwhelms them, creating a host of professional and personal problems along the way. The films in question downplay the relevance of racism and class struggle, which have long been identified as significant barriers to upward mobility (see Chamberlain, 1997; DeSantis, 1998; Haggins, 1999; Winn, 2007), and introduce a more personal issue, psychological trauma (framed as childhood tragedy and familial loss and estrangement), to explain the moral downfall and professional and personal failure of each protagonist.

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This analysis argues that both films resolve the natural tensions between the material (individualism) and the moral (brotherhood) by introducing the classic Hollywood love storycharacterized by the heterosexual romantic relationship and the traditional happy endingas the proper context for the lead characters redemption. In this case, redemption for each lead character comes in the form of his psychological and moral repair and continued professional success.1 Indeed, only through the devotion and example of a romantic partner, one who fully understands and has incorporated the material and moral ideologies of the American Dream, does the protagonist eventually take responsibility for his actions and experience continued happiness and success. In the final analysis, then, this work examines the American Dream through a lens that highlights the effacement of class and race in favor of individualism as a means of material success. The mythology allows for a more feminine narrative (heterosexual romantic love) as moral resolution. This narrative stresses the importance of family, compassion, and lifelong companionship, and it avoids the more incompatible and complicated notions of brotherhood (racial and class equality) as part of the ideological equation.

Literature Review
Film, Myth, and the American Dream
Quite simply, myths are a reflection of who we are as a society (Pileggi et al., 2000). According to DeSantis (1998), they supply answers to a cultures most fundamental questions, and provide meaning, identification, and mutual understanding (p. 479). As a society, then, we tend not to challenge myths for fear of upsetting the status quo. To do so would mean to challenge our most fundamental and longstanding beliefs regarding race, gender, and class. The American Dream, by example, exemplifies the most valued of cultural beliefsthat in America, the land of opportunity, anyone, regardless of background, can achieve his or her goals. This mythology lured immigrants to American shores, fueled the move Westward, and reinforced the importance of individual effort and achievementall under the guise of equality and fairness for all (Pileggi et al., 2000). As noted by Fisher (1973), the myth is actually two competing ideologies. One favors individual success (persistence, hard work, and self-reliance), and the other favors moral values such as brotherhood. Together, these two competing ideologies reinforce the idea that Americans can improve their lives, moving from poor to middle class or from working to professional class without depending on social action to promote change (Winn, 2007). Scholarship examining the American Dream as communicated in film brought attention to the imbalance between the competing material and moral components of the myth. For example, Winn (2007), in an analysis of Working Girl, found the

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egalitarian spirit of brotherhood, the improvement of ones class position through social action, is minimized in favor of a narrative that focuses on individual merit, character, and autonomy as a path to success. McMullen (1996) argued the tension between the two ideologies change along gender lines (p. 31). As communicated in the film Kramer vs. Kramer, mans integration of the material (masculine) aspects of the American Dream (competition and independence) with its moral (feminine) counterpart (self-identity based on cooperation and interdependence, and moral action that will foster and strengthen relationships) allows him to enjoy a richer, fuller life. By contrast, womans attempt to synthesize her career aspirations and familial obligations are met with familial loss, personal pain, and an unfulfilled life. This research, in its examination of the celebrity biopic, adds to the body of knowledge by recording a shift in the American Dream narrative, in which psychological trauma is the catalyst for both change and failure, and heterosexual romantic lovea feminine model of morality based on companionship, family, and, at times, maternal supportis introduced as a more stable counterpart to the material interests present in the myth. However, given that both fame and individualism are often perceived as direct paths to the American Dream, the research tracing the connection between celebrity, individualism, and mobility must be reviewed.

Celebrity Culture and Upward Mobility

Our founding fathers, among the first American celebrities, found personal distinction in their political careers, but their efforts in securing this nations independence epitomized, too, the egalitarian spirit of brotherhood. The emerging public discourse reinforced the celebration of self as hero, one whose achievements were unique, but still connected to the public at large (Gamson, 1994). This most democratic of ideologies, individualisma combination of talent, public image, and private history (childhood secrets and adult breakdowns)continues to inform our connection to the rich and famous (Celeste, 2005; Tolson, 2001). Kitch (2007) summarized the contemporary celebrity as
[drawing on a] remarkably uniform narrative that draws moral lessons from a stars life difficulties but in the end forgives or celebrates him or her. This plot includes an unhappy or difficult childhood, exceptional talent or beauty . . . surrender to temptation followed by public disfavor and midlife crisis, recovery and comeback. (pp. 37-38)

In this case, redemption takes on a secular toneguilt or insecurity for having transgressed against the natural order of things (Williamson, 2002). Redemption, then, is a right of passage for celebrities seeking to reinvent themselves, and their careers, in the wake of public disfavor. Given its role in the course of the celebrity narrative, redemption, as well as the other elements of the narrative in which Kitch addressed, lends itself well to the

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biopic (e.g., Raging Bull, Schindlers List, Coal Miners Daughter, Whats Love Got to Do With It, Ali). In these films, and others, the redemption story arc rests on the convention that characters are encouraged and celebrated for their talents and individual accomplishments before buckling to personal or public pressure and the private and/or public resentments that follow (see Doyle, 2006). By various accounts, sin and redemption were constant themes in the construction of Charless and Cashs individual stage personas. Persona, as defined by Ware and Linkugel (1982), is the mythical mask worn by an individual who assumes a character that exists separately from his or her real self. According to Hayward (2006), the construction of ones persona is a product of self-participation, media and industry reinforcement, and audience acknowledgment (p. 377). When a persona, such as Cashs Man in Black, is constructed so as to be closely identified with a societys shared values or experiences, like the theme of redemption, it may be impossible to separate the two. At that point, the persona transcends reality, becoming an archetype for human experiences, ideas, and even myths (Ware & Linkugel, 1982). The role of the film industry in the construction, and reinforcement, of archetypal images to reinforce specific ideals has been noted, and in that vein, Ray and Walk the Line offer the uniform opportunity to analyze the position redemption occupies in the thematic convergence between the celebrity narrative and persona, the American Dream myth, and the biopic. As portrayed in each film, the characters of Ray Charles and Johnny Cash, despite their professional accomplishments, battle a host of moral temptations, all the result of childhood insecurities and traumas. However, with the assistance of their romantic partners, they eventually resolve their psychological issues and cease their immoral behavior. Thus, redemption in both Ray and Walk the Line comes by way of romantic intervention, culminating with the traditional Hollywood happy ending for each protagonist.

The Hollywood Love Story and Happy Endings

Defined by the male-female dyad, the pursuit of romance in the face of numerous obstacles, and a resolution in which all misunderstandings are clarified, the Hollywood love story is as old as the film industry itself. Hall (2006) stated, The classical film has at least two lines of actions, both casually linking the same group of charactersand, almost invariably, one of these lines of actions involves heterosexual romantic love (p. 155). Crme (1998) described the power of cinematic love to repair emotional pain in both its audiences and film characters. The happy ending is an inherent part of the romantic love story, but it is, at the same time, a contradictory narrative. According to Fuchs (2003), it reinforces the importance of individual morality and choice while avoiding complex explanations into the nature of human behavior. In both Ray and Walk the Line, heterosexual romantic love, an idealistic narrative, symbolically replaces the more controversial moral issues of brotherhood (in this case, racial and class equality), and, at the same time, reconciles the psychological trauma and

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immoral behavior of each protagonist. The happy ending that results reinforces the idea that individualism and a sense of morality driven by romance, rather than racial and class equality, is essential for continued upward mobility.

Analysis
Class, Race, and Unhappy Beginnings
From its inception, Hollywood has been in the business of construction and reivention, fabricating or reshaping a stars past to fit an ideal image. The Hollywood publicity machine worked overtime to create its stars, burying the most painful, brutal, and damaging parts of an actors life, while exaggerating, or recreating, more uplifting experiences. This ritual defined the archetypal celebritya glamorous, wealthy figure who magically transcended social boundaries on the road to fame and fortune. At first glance, the narratives of Ray and Walk the Line read much like the traditional celebrity rags-to-riches narrative. In each film, the characters of Ray Charles and Johnny Cash follow a similar upward trajectory: Personal struggle and talent leads to great material wealth, and the trappings of the celebrity lifestyle are framed as the epitome of success. Closer inspection, however, reveals that racial and class tensions are undercut in favor of a narrative that focuses on individual childhood trauma as the primary source of dramatic conflict. Romantic love is absolute, a cure all for a lifetime of hurt and pain. To be sure, Ray introduces various racial and class signifiers in its opening sequences. We see a home that is little more than a wooden shack, clothes that are threadbare and dirty, and a mother, Aretha, played by Sharon Warren, who makes her living washing other peoples dirty laundry. Early scenes from Walk the Line, too, reveal the desperate circumstances in which the Cash family lives. Within a small, three-room wood frame house, surrounded by miles of cotton fields and dirt roads, the family exists on the edge of life, living hand to mouth, making its way picking cotton on someone elses land. Different movies, yet similar visual markers that serve to introduce the lead characters class identities, and thus signify their low positions within the American social structure. However, these visual images also induce audience sympathy for both protagonists by introducing characters so seemingly deprived and disadvantaged that the audience cannot help but applaud as they move far beyond their meager beginnings. That said, the filmmakers of Ray and Walk the Line, while introducing their lead characters within a context that suggests they were born to bleak social circumstances, downplay the connection of these social factors to the protagonists attempts at upward mobility. Instead, the producers establish a more melodramatic and personal narrative, psychological trauma, as the central obstacle to achievement.

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For example, Rays central conflict involves Charless (C. J. Sanders and Jamie Fox) reaction to the death of a younger brother to accidental drowning. Indeed, early scenes from the film, while giving indication as to Robinson familys low social position, are constructed more so to establish Charless close bond with his baby brother, George (Terrone Bell). These scenes also allow the audience to experience the films most pivotal turning point: as young George drowns in his mothers washtub, young Charles stands frozen, unable, or unwilling, to help. Thus, the center point of the films narrative is established in its first moments. The protagonist will spend his time fighting to cope with the guilt of watching his brother die. Every other struggle in his lifes journey, including his climb from poverty to stardom, and any racism he faces along the way, will pale in comparison. In Walk the Line, the Cash familys desperate economic circumstances are apparent, these circumstances seem to have little impact on young J. R. Cashs (Ridge Canipe) desire for a better life. Instead, it is the grief over the death of his brother and role model, as well as the verbal abuse heaped upon J. R. by his father, Ray (Robert Patrick), that provides the films primary source of dramatic conflict and motivation for the protagonist. Young J. R.s saving grace is his older brother, Jack, (Lucas Till), a calming influence in an otherwise chaotic home. The closeness between brothers is evident in many early scenes from the film, and this bond magnifies the first acts most dramatic moment: Jacks death to a freak saw accident. Thus, several minutes into the films first act, the lead characters dilemma is firmly established. J. R. will spend the reminder of the film struggling not against the desperate economic circumstances in which he was raised, but with what happened to his older brother, while trying to impress a father who insists God, as one line in the film goes, took the wrong son. The relationship between these brothers, George and Ray, and Jack and J. R., represent many of the fundamental ideals of brotherhood (companionship, mutual concern and respect, and compassion) and watching their interactions, one sees amid a life of strife, tension, and povertywhat is possible. By contrast, the deaths of George and Jack represent the killing of brotherhood in two distinct ways. First, it represents for each protagonist a loss of family, companionship, and brotherly love. In Ray, Aretha, after Georges death, begins to distance herself from her remaining son (a coping mechanism to shield her from the thought of losing another child), and Charles, now blind from glaucoma, leaves home to navigate the world on his own terms, and rediscover the sense of brotherhood he had before Georges death. In Walk the Line, J. R., after his brothers death, cannot wait for the day when he can finally leave home. Indeed, in the scene immediately following Jacks death, J. R., now a young adult, does leave his family in search of his own ambitions, and the love he lost when Jack died. Secondly, the deaths of George and Jack, one Black character and the other White, both living in the bottom of societys economic system, serve as a symbolic killing of brotherhood in its most contentious and complicated formracial and

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class equalityand the deaths of these young boys underscore the lack of depth paid to this debate in both films. Thus, the American Dream, while framed by the ideology of individualism (the singular efforts, talents, and accomplishments of both characters) is couched in both films between familial loss on one end and by a quest for love as moral repair and replacement on the other.

Morality, Romantic Individualism, and Upward Mobility

Struggle is inevitable in life, but according to Winn (2007), most Americans believe that upward mobility is possible without the burden of unfair limitations (p. 1). In that regard, Ray and Walk the Line reinforce the idea that success or failure is the result of individual drive and effort, and taking responsibility for lifes consequences without blaming others. In other words, both films place the burden of change on what Winn (2007) called romantic individualismthe idea that achievement is predicated on character, virtue, romantic allure, and other bodily, psychological, and emotional states of self [that] are a remedy for an imbalanced social structure (p. 42). This concept of personal responsibility, of finding ones own way, is communicated early on in both films by specific family members of each protagonist. The family members pass along important moral and material lessons regarding individual action, responsibility, and upward mobility to their sons and brothers. For instance, Aretha Robinson represents a woman who refuses to blame anyone for her station in life. Aretha never deals the race card, so to speak, in conversations with her son, Charles. Indeed, race never enters into their discussions, despite the obvious visual markers in Ray that reveal the realities of economic poverty and racial segregation around them. As indicated in several scenes (as when we see her stand against another laundress whom she suspects is stealing from her, or when she reminds Charles to never let no one or nothin turn you into no cripple. Stand on your own two feet), Aretha frames individual effort, personal responsibility, and integrity as the basis for upward mobility. In doing so, she communicates an important lesson to her remaining son (and the audience watching): Good, hard-working, honest people find a way to be successful, regardless of their class or race, and do not blame others when they fail to do so. In Walk the Line, Jack Cash leads by example, advising his younger brother (who hangs on his every word) about the importance of a strong work ethic, and how to balance such efforts with a sense of humility and compassion. These conversations between brothers, from how much cotton each brother can pick, to their future dreams and aspirations (Jack wants to be a minister, J. R. a singer), bring attention to the importance of individual effort, of taking responsibility for ones actions, and choosing a profession and working hard to be the best at it. As in Ray, these early background scenes in Walk the Line offer an affirmative, encouraging view of the American Dream in which the burden of change falls to the individual, who, with moral clarity and a strong effort, will succeed. Class and economic status are irrelevant (or ignored) in these frames, for these young boys are determined to succeed regardless of their circumstances.

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Thus, both films, in these early scenes, present a vision of the American Dream that focuses on individual effort, and describes, through the protagonists interactions between various characters, the moral and material characteristics needed to be successful: integrity, hard work, honesty, and personal responsibility, to name a few. Indeed, as the films progress deeper into their narratives, the unique individual achievements of each protagonist, and the material wealth they accumulate along the way, further emphasizes the ideology of individuality.

The Unique Self, Material Culture, and Upward Mobility

As noted by Pileggi et al. (2000), individual talent, part of the politics of self, is the key to upward mobility. Accordingly, the filmmakers of Ray and Walk the Line favor this concept by constructing each protagonist as an innovator, creating unique ideas, sounds, and images to quickly emerge beyond his humble beginnings. For instance, Charles is presented as a pioneer of a controversial, yet bold genre of music forged from the realities of segregation and his African American, southern roots. Like his cinematic counterpart, Cash is portrayed as an innovator in his own right; in Walk the Line, his sound is best described by his friend, the singer June Carter (Reese Witherspoon), as steady like a train, sharp like a razor, the result of natural, God-given talent, and a gritty, determined spirit. As each film progresses, we witness Charles and Cash use their gifts to emerge from obscurity to playing in small concert venues, and then eventually working their way to packed houses. We then watch autograph seekers chase them, observe both sign multimillion-dollar deals with major record companies, and look on as they barnstorm through large stadiums and concert halls. In this collection of images, both men relish in the fact that they have escaped their destitute circumstances and enjoy wealth and fame beyond their wildest imaginations. Thus, the unique self ones creative energy and method of personal expressionis interpreted as the means by which ones humble beginnings can be left behind and by accumulating large amounts of wealth, secure a position at the next level of society. Both films, then, perpetuate the idea that success is determined by individual effort and talent, and defined by purely materialistic standards. By extension, the films reinforce the notion that in a free market society, anyone (with an innovative idea or talent, of course), regardless of his or her class or racial background, can achieve upward mobility. As Dyer (2004) noted, capitalism is, in part, a celebration of the individual. It is the freedom of anyone to make money, sell their labour how they will, to be able to express their opinions and get them heard (p. 9). Both films celebrate this positive vision of the American Dreamone that romanticizes the labor, talent, and control of the individual with an equal amount of capital given for his or her efforts and contributionswhile sidestepping the more somber side of the myth (the greed and racial and class divisions, for instance). The films ignore the fact that the real

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Charles and Cash were, in fact, part of an economic and political system that placed them into a strict division of labor in which celebrities were constructed and were controlled, a cog in the wheel, a commodity to be at one time celebrated and then eventually discarded when their capital value was spent. Instead, Ray and Walk the Line, in the tradition of P. T. Barnum and the traditional Hollywood star system, present Ray Charles and Johnny Cash as extraordinary figures[objects] of our speculation and impossible [objects] of our desire (Hayward, 2006, p. 381). In other words, the films, especially in the scenes previously described, place added value to the iconic status of both Charles and Cash. As constructed in both films, they are images to be worshiped and followed, ideal representations of what we want to be and long to have. At the same time, however, Ray and Walk the Line, in weaving a narrative of personal and psychological struggle, work to present images with which we can identify, ordinary characters that in their problems, struggles, and desires for a better life are just like us (Hayward, 2006, p. 381). The protagonists do not receive their financial rewards without personal struggle. However, in each film, again, social issues such as racism and class struggle are downplayed in favor of emphasizing obstacles of a more individual and familial (psychological and romantic) nature. Indeed, with the exception of one scene in Walk the Line, in which Cash and his first wife, Vivian (Ginnifer Goodwin), argue over the possibility that they will be evicted from their home, the lead characters economic struggles as a working class musician go unmentioned. This scene is constructed not so much to bring attention to Cashs class position, or the economic struggles he faces on his upward climb, but to give indication as to the sorry state of his marriage and thus foreshadow the films romantic line of action (which is discussed in a later section). In Ray, particular scenes, such as those portraying Charless travels on the chitlin circuit early in his career, offer a faint glimpse of what life might have been like for a young African American musician playing in a segregated society. However, these visual and verbal markers (the rundown juke joints, the segregated hotels and restaurants the characters/musicians frequent, the conversations between them bemoaning their situations), while useful in identifying time (the 1940s), place (the American South), and circumstance (unequal treatment), dissolve into the background. The protagonists struggles with drugs and alcohol, and his extramarital affairs (all of which stem from his inability to come to terms with his brothers death) become central to the films conflict.

Psychological Trauma and Moral Decline

As previously noted, psychological trauma is the driving force behind the protagonists decisions to seek a life based on the ideals of individualism and material success and wealth. However, the accidental deaths of George and Jack, and thus, the symbolic killing of brotherhood, become the catalyst for Charless and Cashs

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moral declines as well. Both success and failure, then, comes not from the stress and strain of class or racial tensionthe push and pull of years of financial hardship and social discriminationbut are found at the more intimate level, as the moral applications revealed to each protagonist as young children crumble under the weight of the guilt and insecurity of childhood pain and trauma. Both protagonists, for example, remain traumatized by the deaths of their brothers deep into each films narrative; through a series of grainy flashback sequences, the audience watching Ray is constantly reminded of Ray Charless tortureof a younger brother who he failed to save, and a mother who screams for help as her son lay dead. We then witness Charless attempts to reconcile his brothers death through a series of immoral actions that leave the lead character addicted to heroin, and with a string of extramarital affairs that bring him little joy, comfort, or love. Similarly, in Walk the Line, Cash continues to struggle with the death of his brother; he is constantly comparing himself to a ghost, the perfect son, and battling to contain his rage against a verbally abusive father. Cashs fall from grace plays out in several scenes in which the character displays overindulgent and reckless behavior, acts that culminate with his family and colleagues, including his troubled wife, Vivian (Ginnifer Goodwin), deserting him after his life-threatening drug binges become too much, and his longtime extramarital affair with June Carter is exposed. Subsequent scenes from Walk the Line portray Cash as broke, drug addicted, and lonely. Although both characters demonstrate a desire to change their ways (Im a sinner who needs saving, Charles admits in one scene from Ray), the pain of the past, and the addictions that result, bear down hard. So, by the final act of Ray and Walk the Line, Charles and Cash have yet to find peace, and the contradictions between their individual accomplishments and immoral actions have yet to be resolved. With each protagonists psychological instability standing between ideological and narrative resolution, how is the conflict put to rest? Redemption, essential to the survival of each protagonist, is predicated on the arousal of guilt for what we are in respect for what we should be . . . in order to be moved by moralistic appeals, one must condemn himself in some way or other (Fisher, 1973, p. 162). In other words, Charless and Cashs psychological scars, and immoral actions that result, bring them to a point in their life where redemption is the only hope for peace and continued success.

Love, Redemption, and the American Dream

As revealed in the celebrity biopic, redemption takes on more of a romantic than religious tone, as the protagonists relationship with a female moral role model provides the emotional assistance they need, helps him heal psychologically and bring closure to the past, and allows for moral clarity and continued material success.

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Thus, the central tensions mediated within both filmsmaterial success defined by individualism, and moral failure, predicated by a loss of brotherhood and childhood psychological traumaare resolved. In Ray, Della (Bea) Charles, played by Kerry Washington, is the antithesis of the hard-living, hard-driving women Charles meets on the roadcharacters that seem to struggle with their own moral decisions, personal demons, and pursuit of the American Dream. By contrast, Bea is constructed as a middle-class woman of material and moral consequence who embodies many of the lessons taught to Charles by his mother. Indeed, from the dialogue between Washingtons character and Foxxs Ray Charles, we learn that Bea is a successful performer in her own right (as a member of a popular gospel group in the Houston, Texas, area), and a courteous and compassionate soul who understands that professional success takes hard work, sacrifice, and a great deal of talent. Although she is not nearly as well known as her future husband would be, it is clear from how she is constructed in Ray that she is meant to reaffirm the idea that race is not a viable restriction to upward mobility. Charles, on the other hand, is portrayed as a man who lets his past jeopardize his professional career and personal life. He becomes a heroin addict for the same reason he enters show businessthe drug, like his music, offers an escape from a childhood of loss and regret. However, in a pivotal scene from Ray, in which the protagonist faces federal drug charges, and is at his lowest point professionally, spiritually, and emotionally, Beawhose moral decisions and individual achievements Charles admires and respectsreminds him of what he must do: If you dont stop using that needle, theyre going to take away your music and put you in jail. Is that poison worth losing everything? In this confrontation, Bea forces Charles to look beyond his addiction, talk about his fears (his brothers death, for instance), and think about the consequences of his actions (a life without his family and music). In other words, Bea helps her husband realize that his moral integrity, and, by extension, credibility as a husband, father, and musician, cannot be restored unless he stops his immoral behavior and regains his psychological composure. Beas intervention harkens back to several flashback scenes between Charles and his mother in which she pressed upon him the value of individual responsibility to ones survival and success. In that regard, she not only takes the role of the supportive wife, but that of a surrogate mother, a mother-substitute if you will, for her husband. Knowing Aretha would be disappointed, and in the face of being alone again, of losing everything, Charles enters drug rehabilitation and psychological therapy; once there, the audience watches as he slowly puts to rest the guilt and shame he has over his brothers death, and, as his mother first taught him, as Bea reminds him, takes responsibility for his past actions. As Ray suggests, it seems impossible that Charles would have been able to defeat his psychological demons without Beas devotion and persistence. Thus, Bea is constructed as her husbands mythical savior, for she provides her husband with the love

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and familial support he has missed since Georges death. The sense of brotherhood he lost is replaced by the love of a supportive wife/mother figure. A quick montage celebrating Charless professional accomplishments appears shortly before the films closing credits, complete with a list of the number of albums he recorded and awards he won, thus providing evidence of his commitment to individuality. Although meant to pay tribute to the life and career of a pioneering musician, this montage is more of a self-serving attempt to further position the show business industry, and the celebrity lifestyle, as the epitome of progress and successagain, the means by which the American Dream is often measured. These images, including one showing Bea standing by his side during an awards ceremony, serve, too, to romanticize a specific persona of Ray Charles, and thus suggests the American Dream can be achieved with a dual commitment to self and family, and with little or no regard to the influence of race on upward mobility. As with Ray, Walk the Line uses a romantic narrative to reconcile the psychological implications of upward mobility. Indeed, Walk the Line is not as much a biopic as it is a cathartic love storya romantic narrative based on honesty, trust, and comfort between two characters (Stanley, 2006, p. 239). In that regard, June Carter is set up as the one character who can help resolve her leading mans psychological and moral dilemmas. As noted in the film, she comes from the most prominent and successful of country music families. The Carters are portrayed in the film as salt of the Earth folk, a good-natured, sensible, and practical people. Indeed, the Carter familys place in the film suggests that June is as hardworking and persistent, good natured, and cooperative as the rest of her family. June may be a celebrity, but like Bea Charles, she appears to live a relatively meager, middle-class lifestyle (as evident by her rather modest home, and her otherwise unremarkable style of dress). As such, she is constructed as the embodiment of the moral and material values of the American Dream, a role model and the ideal romantic partner for the psychologically battered Johnny Cash. As indicated on the films DVD case, Walk the Line is not just about Cashs material achievements but of his pursuit of the greatest love of his life. That phrase is indicative of Junes prominent place in the films narrative, a position that comes at the expense of another female character, Vivian, Cashs first wife. Indeed, Cashs divorce from Vivian is a foregone conclusion, but rather than provide a more nuanced, balanced account of their marital troubles (the notion, for instance, that their marriage may have deteriorated because both characters are lonely and bone weary from Cashs long absences and continued drug and alcohol addictions, or that Vivian, like many women of her era, feels unappreciated for her efforts as a wife and mother), the filmmakers, in an effort to heighten the dramatic tension (and Junes place) in the film, position Vivian as a primary threat to the Cash-Carter relationship (and by extension, the films romantic line of action). In that regard, producers show little respect for Vivians place as the mother of Cashs three children, or as the wife who weathered, too, her husbands early struggles and addictions. As June is constructed as the embodiment of romantic

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love, moral stability, and individual success, Vivian, despite her sacrifices as a wife and mother, is cast in the harshest and most stereotypical of lights. In her conversations with her husband, for instance, Vivians demands for Cashs time are meant to appear as desperate, obsessive, and unwarranted attempts to keep two star-crossed lovers apart. However, upon further analysis, her portrayal (especially in comparison to Junes more positive construction) reveals itself as an obvious and intentional strategy to advance the films romantic plot. As the filmmakers would have it, Cashs destructive behavior might have continued if not for Junes moral guidance and support. She is the first person in Cashs life since Jack to fully understand that sound moral decisions and psychological stability are key to ones continued upward mobility, and, as Bea Charles attempts with her husband, June repeatedly tries to get Cash to incorporate this philosophy into his life (Winn, 2007). In that regard, June is, at once, lover, friend, and mother to Cash, and through her loyalty and direction, Cash is provided with a sense of family that he hasnt felt since his brothers death. He stops blaming himself for Jacks death, and makes amends to those he has hurt and who have hurt him (like his father). Thus, the pain of his brothers death is repaired, and his sense of brotherhood restored; through Junes love and maternal commitment, he learns to love and trust again (which he had not done since his brother died), and, as his brother would have wanted, as June teaches him, he takes responsibility for his previous mistakes and wrongdoings. As a result, by films end, Cash appears as a more psychologically stable individual, and, as indicated by the films closing caption, his personal life and professional career takes a new, exciting direction with June at his side: John and June married and settled into the lake house in Hendersonville [Tennessee]. Two years later they had a son, John Carter Cash. For the next 35 years they raised their children, recorded music, toured, and played the world together. Walk the Line champions a narrative that replaces class struggle with more romantic notions of individualism and companionship. It does so through its construction of a rhetorical persona of Johnny Cash, a character that achieves upward mobility through personal achievement, and is the recipient of a convenient form of romantic love that serves his moral and psychological needs at the expense of others (like his first wife). In that regard, the film creates, too, a reality that favors women, like June Carter, who have pursued the American Dream in their own right, and by extension, allowed for the continued upward mobility of an otherwise morally deprived and underprivileged man. Thus, this rhetorical (re)vision suggests, as McMullan (1996) noted, that the American Dream is still an andocentric myth, one that confines women to traditional feminine sex roles (e.g., despite her individual material accomplishments, June, like Bea Charles in Ray, is valued more as a source of moral and familial cooperation, interdependence, and strength, while Vivians choices are devalued altogether). Accordingly, Walk the Line, like Ray, offers a commercialized version of the American Dream that ignores the implications of social position in our society, and instead promotes a materialistic mythology in which individual struggle, effort, responsibility, and talent equal success; romantic love replaces a lost sense of brotherhood; and the reasons for failure lie within.

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Conclusion
This analysis presents a reconfiguration of the American Dream as communicated in the celebrity biopic, an ideological shift in which historical issues of social inequality are replaced with individual sources of personal expression and psychological trauma, and the rhetorical transformation of brotherhood (equality and compassion for all) to heterosexual love (framed by feminine companionship and maternal support) helps complete a rhetorical vision of a classless society unbound by social restrictions such as class or race. The depoliticization of social inequality is carried out in two films, Ray and Walk the Line, through the ideologies of romantic individualism (personal effort, responsibility, and fortitude) and the unique self (in this case, personal forms of artistic expression). Both films, at various dramatic points, use these ideologies to promote a materialistic version of the American Dream myth in which wealth, fame, and status, the trappings of the celebrity lifestyle, are presented as ideal models of professional success (Pileggi, 2000). In both films, too, inequality is contained in a more personal and dramatic form, psychological trauma, which serves as both of a source of motivation for the lead characters, aiding in their quests for upward mobility, and as the catalyst for their psychological and moral declines. This dramatic tension between professional achievement and moral failure is resolved through the infusion of the romantic love storylinea feminine counterpart to the masculine ideal of material successthat positions the heterosexual relationship between the protagonist and a female moral role model (a character situated firmly within the boundaries the American middle class) as the ideal form of moral and psychological redemption. In the final analysis, Ray and Walk the Line displace brotherhood with patriarchal notions of heterosexual love, thus offering a reconstructed American Dream that resolves the tension between individual inequality and equality through brotherhood. This version of the American Dream, as a result, minimizes, even ignores, the ongoing political and economic issues of racism and class struggle in American society.

Note
1. As used in the text, the term brotherhood has two distinct, yet interconnected meanings. The first describes the close fraternal relationship between the films lead characters and their male siblings. The second meaning is used in a broader sense, to explain a sense of community and sympathy toward other human beings. Brotherhood is used throughout the text in favor of a more gender-neutral concept because of the thematic connections between each film that this particular term best illuminates. In fact, this analysis will link, and draw upon, these two meanings to analyze the patriarchal distinctions found in both films, and how the racial and class implications of the term brotherhood is replaced with a feminine, and more acceptable, counterpart.

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Glenn D. (Pete) Smith Jr. (PhD, University of Southern Mississippi, 2004) is an assistant professor in the Department of Communication at Mississippi State University. He is the author of Something on My Own: Gertrude Berg and American Broadcasting, 1929-1956, and he is currently at work on a biography of blacklisted actor and union activist Philip Loeb. His research interests include media history and film criticism.

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