movie review: drive
Drive is a movie that can put you in limbo. Once the end credits roll, you could easily think, “Hey, that was almost a great movie.” Almost…but it isn’t. At the same time, it is far above mediocre, so where on the great linear spectrum of star ratings is it? Three? Four? I like the movie, but it seems like a task to figure out how much I think I like it.
In generic movie terms, Ryan Gosling’s character, the Driver, is like Clint Eastwood’s, The Man With No Name. His past has no temporal relevance to his present, but his present is relevant to his future. (If it didn’t, then that would be one dismal cinematic experience.) The Driver has only one thing in life that provides some semblance of connection to the world, and that is, of course, driving. The car, as a machine, is the vehicle through which he relates to the world. This changes when he meets a quiet girl named Irene, his neighbor. In short time, he begins to fall in love with her, and even takes a shine to her kid. Just when Irene becomes a legitimate connection to the world, her felon husband, Standard, (played by Oscar Isaac, who should be ashamed for taking part in the insulting and vile Sucker Punch), gets released from prison. Standard carries a lot of debt to those who protected him while he was inside, and is tasked with robbing a big bundle of money. The Driver gets involved to ensure that Standard’s family doesn’t get mixed up, but when the shit hits the fan, he realizes that he’s more deeply involved then he originally thought.
There’s a great supporting cast at work in this movie (not including Oscar Isaac). Bryan Cranston as the Driver’s handler puts in nice work, and so do Ron Perlman and Albert Brooks. Perlman looks like he was born to play a movie heavy, but it’s Brooks who does really fine work here. His ease with sudden brutality is surprising and impressive. There are some comedic actors who, when charged with playing a menacing character, can do so with startling grace. Brooks is one of them. Carey Mulligan doesn’t get to do much but to coyly smile, flirt, and be emotionally guarded. But she fills the role with such natural skin, she merited longer screen time. Then there’s Gosling – channeling his inner Steve McQueen – who plays the Driver with no tricks, ticks or gimmicks. It’s a performance that’s played out with his eyes.
The film was directed by a Dane, Nicolas Refn. I don’t know much about him, but I’m guessing he’s watched plenty of films by Michael Mann. It’s not just the heavy use of aerial shots and draping the scenes with nighttime blue: like Mann, he is just way too cool for school. Aloof, sleek, slick, charged but never ready to diffuse, Refn guides the scenes with both care and a slight disdain because the film’s detachment comes off as cocky. The Driver doesn’t live in our world. We live in his. And so, the camera, the movements, even the dark, 80s new wave soundtrack – all of these elements converge not just to unfold a story, but to convey to the viewer why we could only wish to be as cool as the Driver, but would be foolish to even try to be like him.
It’s very easy to admire the film – quite different than to truly enjoy it.
Just as an aside…I never posted my review on Sucker Punch, but suffice to say, it’s the cinematic equivalent of a crime against humanity. It is a hateful film. Oscar Isaac wasn’t first billing, but it was a substantial role. And even divorcing the fact that I find that movie to be like someone peeing on the audience’s face and then forcing them to eat poo, Isaac’s performance in that film was unforgivable. Anyone associated with that fucking heap of shit should hang their heads low.
