Documentary
An Historic MomentFolsom Prison sits above the American River, hiding amid hills of waving grasses and scrubby oaks. This California penitentiary's menacing presence scowls back at the camera as it moves through the gates, in the door, down the corridors and through the prison block to the scene of an event that eclipsed even the most monumental of country music moments. As the sound of the crowd's applause begins to rise over the scene, the present melds with the past and the ghost of that famous day in 1968, when a man in black strutted out onto a make shift cafeteria stage and declared, 'Hello, I'm Johnny Cash' re-appears. We can hear the sound of the inmates roaring as the images of Cash and his band take shape over the gray cafeteria walls, and the boom chicka boom rhythm of the Tennessee Three makes room for Cash's mournful voice: I hear a train a'comin / It's rollin' round the bend / And I ain't seen the sun shine / Since I don't know when.....One line eclipses them all, 'I shot a man in Reno/ Just to watch him die.' Cash had come to the place where such confessions lead men. Folsom was one of the toughest maximum-security prisons in the country. (Today it still is tough, but it has changed in many ways, and is no longer a maximum facility.) Cash's audience was a crowd who really had shot men, even the man snapping the photos, Jim Marshall. Cash was here to borrow their image and brand himself 'murderer' by association. And yet the drug-addicted country western singer was more at home among these down and outers who knew what it meant to lose control of their lives, than he had been in the limelight. And he knew the risks he was taking. The photos show the stern face of a man who knows his life is on the line, a gamble that, if it paid off, would produce one of the most famous live-recordings of all time.It was January 1968, days before the Tet Offensive. The year roiling in violence and historical change: Vietnam would be more bloody than ever imagined; assassin's bullets would fell MLK and RFK; Paris would go up in rioters' flames; Woodstock would become a metaphor; and Elvis would make a triumphant return. But in a gray prison cafeteria, impervious to the tumult outside, hard men doing hard time witnessed the making of a legendary record album that realized the commercial aspirations of a country singer and courted a nation hungry for hope. After nearly forty years this album remains a social statement aligned with the values and expectations of disenfranchised people in the '60s. Johnny Cash never planned on becoming a symbol of compassion; it just was part of his view of the world. 'I didn't go into it thinking about it as a crusade, I just don't think prisons do any good....Nothing good ever came out of a prison.' In the wake of the million-selling album, Cash became a prominent prison reform advocate, ultimately testifying before Congress. He was so serious on the subject perhaps because his own life was never easy nor straight. His struggle with demons always meant he understood the dark evidence of sin and guilt, pain and sorrow. He translated in song and voice an identity that touched the heart of people longing for a truth they knew and he understood. 'Johnny Cash at Folsom Prison remains one of the greatest live albums ever made,' wrote Richard Harrington of the Washington Post, echoing a widely-held sentiment. Cash's music endures without a successor, his legend rises as Hollywood imitates; it is myth that propels most emulation. However, the truth about Cash has always been more interesting. And one of those truths was Folsom Prison: that electric album that propelled his career and legend.Today, Folsom Prison stands erect, unwilling to bend in spite of time's erosive nature. The entrance gate, the guard towers, the cafeteria and the chapel all are very much in use as are the halls and cells, much the same way they were in January 1968. It is where the concert took place and the people who witnessed it that becomes one of the principal sources of this motion picture story. Even some of the prisoners and guards from that historic day are alive, able to bear witness to their own cruel stories that brought them to Folsom and made it possible for them to be a part of a live recording that evokes a connection with an audience most entertainers can only imagine.Our documentary endeavors to reveal a lesser known Johnny Cash through an exciting, visually compelling examination of this historic concert. No motion pictures were taken at Folsom, but legendary photographer Jim Marshall captured in more than 300 stills, (many never published) the tension and exhilaration of that extraordinary performance. A year later, Cash recreated the Folsom concert at San Quentin prison for a British television company. His angry grit and honest love pour out, revealing the flame first lit at Folsom. Each of these documentary archives will help to provide cinematic evidence and enrich the sheer joy of understanding what took place.