Why "Walk Hard" is One of the Greatest Satires 10 Years Later

Scene from Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story

In 2007, the wrong film flopped. Director Jake Kasdan's Walk Hard: The Dewey Cox Story premiered to middling reviews and an audience unready to take on music biopic satire. But they should've been, as the film created the definitive role for John C. Reilley in country musician Dewey Cox. He was a walking cliche, managing to include the hackneyed backstory of a brother who was halved, and a dark period that included a monkey. There's a lot to enjoy about Walk Hard if you haven't seen Walk the Line, Ray, or any variety of films that were popular at the time, but it helped to explain what was so ridiculous and limiting about those films. Through broad comedy and some of the greatest satirical songs since This is Spinal Tap, Walk Hard was a parody movie that sought to explain why music egocentricity wasn't only stupid, but hilarious. As time has gone on, it's become harder to understand why this film ever bombed. Then again, nothing about Dewey Cox made sense. So maybe it all worked out the way he wanted it to.
The marketing centered around a very simple joke: Dewey Cox's very phallic name. In one such case, Reilley sold a box of sausages claiming "It's not Cox, unless I say it tastes like Cox." It was far from the only phallic joke attached to the movie, but helped to explain the significance of the movie. It was going to deconstruct the rock and roll mythology that had become praised by studio music biopics around this era. Films like Walk the Line and Ray were winning Oscars. But for what? All these films did was commit to a formula in which musicians went through struggles to write their biggest songs. Walk Hard was going to deconstruct it with Cox wordplay and a soundtrack that would rival the best of movie soundtracks at the time. In fact, one of its shining elements was that it was itself a biopic of an artist unsatisfied.

Songs like "Let's Duet" could've been sung by Cox's clear influence: Johnny Cash. The instrumentation was simple and catchy in the way that country pop could be. However, there was a catch that was already obvious from the title. Duet was a play on "do it," which is an innuendo. By the time the song opens with "In my dreams you're blowing me... some kisses," it's already committed to the bit. The next three minutes are going to reflect an inspired high art form of low brow humor. If one didn't know to look for the joke, it would work as a regular song. It worked as a parody of radio edits, which often sneaked dirtier lyrics past the censors. This is just one example of the soundtrack, which would go on to parody Bob Dylan, The Beach Boys, and anyone who inspired rock n roll after 1960. 

As a result, Cox was just as manic of a figure. The poster for the film embodied Reilley in a Jim Morrison stance, shirtless with his arms out and a dazed look on his face. This was a film that rewarded people who bought into the rock n roll mythology, down to a spot on parody of The Beatles circa Yellow Submarine, where one acid trip leads Cox to have an existential crisis while suspended in animation. The film's array of references were absurd, but always managed to drive a downward spiral for Cox's stardom following the hit song, "Walk Hard," that would define his career and get a surprise rap rendition towards the end of the film. Everything about the film is extravagant, and at times nonsensical. 

Credit should be given to Reilley for creating one of the most fascinating satirical figures in pop culture. He wasn't only Dewey Cox in the film, but he also performed as the characters at various venues, such as The Roxy. The mythology would grow to include a soundtrack of dozens more songs unheard in the film called "A Box of Cox." For a film committed to one joke, it managed to find inspiration in every possible detail. Instead of merely commenting on The Beach Boys' "Pet Sounds," it chose to explore the absurdity of it in elaborate set pieces. Instead of just noting how nonsensical Bob Dylan could seem, they recorded "Royal Jelly" and joked about how insightful the song was as he performed it. Reilley in many ways was Dewey Cox the same way that Michael McKean was David St. Hubbins. He embodied the ridiculous cliches earnestly, and in the process created a loving ode to this bizarre treatment of rock stars.

Sure, some songs were just ridiculous ("Let Me Hold You (Little Man)"), but nobody could deny how catchy they were. Somewhere between Weird Al Yankovic's glory days and The Lonely Island's ascension came Walk Hard, which was a film that was misunderstood at its time much like Popstar was in 2016. Still, it has withstood the test of time by finding a cult audience who recognizes its brilliance. It may have been the one film that disproved Judd Apatow's ability to produce box office smashes, but in some ways showed just how diverse his talents could be. This was a film that was comically rich with satire, but had a darker emotional heart at the center. Dewey Cox's biopic was fraught with oddities that proved how misplaced he was in society. He was a genius who wrote benign songs, and it was the listener who interpreted them as crass. It's the brilliance of the writing, which rode the line perfectly and made a soundtrack with countless songs snubbed by the Oscars.

In true irony, the film ends with one of the best produced songs not only in the film, but in movies at the time. "Beautiful Ride" was a speculative number that captured the regret of youth in such tender detail that it became emotional. It helped that back-up singers did a great job, and it was minutes after a Viagra joke. Even when the film was picking on low hanging fruit, it was doing it with more effort than anyone would give it credit for. The film was as much a criticism of music biopics as it was a loving ode to their creators, whose own lives were full of such confusing moments that it was funnier than fiction. Still, Walk Hard had the best euphemisms, and it also had the best comedy that in a different year could've gotten more love. Instead, it existed like Cox's career: in a flaccid state of dissatisfaction.