Johnny Cash’s interest in the black sheep of society extended beyond his outreach to the prisoners at Folsom — he channeled a variety of big bads on screens big and small.
It was 20 minutes before showtime in Jackson, Mississippi, circa 1976, and Johnny Cash looked frightened.
His eyes darted about nervously, and the apple he was paring almost dropped from his hands. He needed to take a quick swig from the Styrofoam cup of coffee — at least, it appeared to be coffee — on his dressing-room table.
What had upset him so much? A personal tragedy? A sudden ailment? Stage fright?
No, it was none of those things. I’d simply asked Cash about why he’d chosen to give his debut film performance in a tawdry yet suspenseful 1961 B-movie titled Door to Door Maniac.
“Lord, I don’t have any idea,” Cash responded in a tone that could only be described as mournful. “I thought everybody had forgotten about that. Please don’t hold that against me.”
Cash as outlaw in a parody mugshot taken around the time of ”Folsom Prison Blues.”
It took another two or three minutes for me to convince Cash that I didn’t intend to dredge up unhappy memories but rather to praise his chillingly persuasive performance. Indeed, in his very first film role, he acquitted himself quite convincingly as an effective character actor, playing a deranged robber who terrorizes a bank vice-president’s captive wife in her own home while his partner forces the lady’s husband to raise a ransom.
Originally known as Five Minutes to Live — the name of a song Cash sings while tormenting his prey — the film received a title change before its extremely limited mid-’60s theatrical re-release. For a long time afterward, the movie remained as obscure as Cash might have wished.
But a funny thing happened long after our 1976 conversation: Once it fell into the public domain after its copyright lapsed, the film started popping up on cheaply produced DVDs under both its titles. It gradually attracted a cult following, reached an even wider audience on YouTube — and was released on Blu-Ray by Film Masters earlier this year in a newly restored 4K transfer from original 35mm archival elements. All the better to let more people appreciate what a total badass The Man in Black could be on screen.
In short, he was an outlaw way before outlaws were cool.
Prior to the rediscovery of Five Minutes/Maniac, however, Cash demonstrated his versatility as an actor in a variety of movie and TV roles. Among his notable credits:
A Gunfight (1971)
One of the better revisionist westerns of the 1970s, director Lamont Johnson’s allegorical drama focuses on Will Tenneray (Kirk Douglas) and Abe Cross (Cash), two notorious gunfighters who develop a wary friendship when their paths cross in a small town. Mindful of their advancing years and dwindling prowess, they collaborate on a retirement plan: They will sell tickets to their one-on-one shoot-out — in a bullring, no less — and the survivor will claim the box-office take. Cash and Douglas give compelling performances as surprisingly complex characters during the countdown to their showdown.
Johnny Cash in A Gunfight (1971).
Columbo: Swan Song (1974)
Like most murderers prone to underestimating the rumpled but wily Lt. Columbo (Peter Falk), gospel music star Tommy Brown (Cash) initially isn’t afraid of capture for his crime — in Brown’s case, the murder of his controlling wife (Ida Lupino) and former paramour (Bonnie Van Dyke), whom he drugs before donning a homemade parachute and leaping from a small plane he was piloting. But the homicide investigator’s suspicions are aroused almost immediately when he learns that Brown had sent his beloved guitar on ahead in a tour bus before boarding the plane. One thing leads to another, clues gradually accumulate, and Columbo ultimately gets his man — even though he admits, while listening to one of Brown’s gospel tunes: “Any man who can sing like that can’t be all bad.” Cash and Falk are perfectly matched in the kind of cat-and-mouse game that was a Columbo series hallmark.
The Pride of Jesse Hallam (1981)
Cash is credible and creditable in Gary Nelson’s inspiring drama about a Kentucky coal miner who has spent most of his life hiding his illiteracy. But when he moves to Cincinnati for his young daughter’s spinal surgery, Jesse Hallam (Cash) is forced to admit his limitations: He must learn to read and write in order to find work. Brenda Vaccaro shines as the high school vice-principal who becomes Jesse’s mentor.
Murder in Coweta County (1983)
Cash re-teams with director Gary Nelson for a well-done docudrama about a notorious homicide case in 1948 Georgia. Andy Griffith, shrewdly cast against type, plays John Wallace, a powerful businessman who figures he can literally get away with murder. Cash is Sheriff Lamar Potts, who comes off like a small-town Columbo as he methodically builds his case against Wallace.
Johnny Cash and his wife June Carter Cash as Sheriff Lamar Potts and Mayhayley Lancaster in Murder in Coweta County (1983).
The Last Days of Frank and Jesse James (1986)
Cash plays an erudite and happily domesticated Frank to Kris Kristofferson’s rambunctiously womanizing Jesse in this underrated drama about the last years of the notorious Wild West outlaws. Despite the, ahem, maturity of the two leads, the movie earned points from critics for its historical accuracy — and delighted western fans with its relatively fresh take on a familiar tale. Longtime buddies Cash and Kristofferson must have enjoyed their on-screen collaboration because, just a few months later, they were back in the saddle again.
Johnny Cash and Kris Kristofferson as Frank James and Jesse James in The Last Days of Frank and Jesse James (1986).
Stagecoach (1986)
Directed by Ted Post (Hang ’Em High), this mildly entertaining made-for-TV remake of John Ford’s 1939 classic western bears only a passing resemblance to its illustrious predecessor. Even so, Cash effortlessly conveys sure-shot authority as the lawman bent on keeping a vengeful Ringo Kid (Kris Kristofferson) from doin’ what a man’s got to do. Better still, he also develops an easy rapport with co-stars (and fellow Highwaymen) Willie Nelson – as Doc Holliday! – and Waylon Jennings as the gambler originally played in 1939 by John Carradine.
From our February/March 2025 issue.
PHOTOGRAPHY: Courtesy of Alamy
