Marc Abraham

[Hiddleston:] I sort of represent Hank Williams' experience for the world: his truth. His joy, his pain, his struggles. Dressing like him, sounding like him, speaking like him, and singing like him.

Unfortunately, the film’s editing creates a confusing chronology and awkward pace, but it’s easy to see why producers saw a satisfying audience experience in Kearns’ moral crusade.

It’s all so dully realized that we grow starving for idiosyncratic detail, desperately latching on to Williams’ love of ketchup or his drunkenly being tickled pink by his new garage-door opener.