Drive

Below you’ll find a quickly written, hysterically in love reaction to a screening of director Nicholas Winding Refn’s new crime drama, Drive. If you plan to see the movie in theaters (which we HIGHLY suggest doing), we recommend doing so before reading any further, as there are some juicy spoilers pounded out joyfully in the ‘graphs that follow.

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Sometimes, after I’ve seen a movie I really love, I drive straight home, log in to IMDB and give the film a rating. That real dorkstuff. After seeing Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive I floated out of the theater with a crop of insightful friends, discussed the movie for a very long time, discussed it some more, then drove my car like I’ve never driven it before, feeling every rumble along the way. I thought about the movie all afternoon, eventually passing out for a few hours. Then, awake at 4 a.m., I jumped out of bed, ran to my computer and clicked the 10 star, looking for an 11. Then I typed and typed and typed the bits of cineaste joy you’re now reading.

The story goes that the great actor for the day, Ryan Gosling (Half Nelson, Lars and the Real Girl, Blue Valentine, The Believer, etc.) signed on to the Hossein Amini (Killshot, The Four Feathers) adaptation of James Sallis’ 2005 novel of the same name. Gosling was then told that he could chose his own director, finally deciding on Refn, the man behind cult favorite The Pusher Trilogy, Bronson and Valhalla Rising. The two became fast friends, setting out to make a movie about a mysterious guy in a car. The film went on to be the hit of the 2011 Cannes Film Festival, Refn going home with the Best Director award and Gosling seeing his name move to the No. 1 spot on the lists of many producers and filmmakers around the world. A real game changer that, due to the loving and intense reactions of the industry and media people who saw the film, moved from small indie film to a scheduled wide release in only a few weeks. A rare feat.

Going into the theater I knew I was in for a treat. The little bits and pieces I’d seen of the film were clearly from the brush of a highly stylized, truly eccentric filmmaker with much to offer. And it looked beautiful – the lighting, the LA scenery, the poetic stillness. Needless to say, me and my crew walked into the theater for the first screening of the day, ready for something big, fingers crossed and hopes high. One hundred minutes later we celebrated the Christmas feast we’d just taken in, Refn and Gosling’s brilliance clogging the holes of our soul. We’d seen a masterpiece – a film that certainly nods here and there (John Hughes, Heat, A History of Violence), but was also wholly original and stuffed full of style and understated grace. A story told in an inventive manner, not unlike Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs over 10 years ago.

Gosling plays the driver, a man with no name and few words who moves through his days like a samurai, following his cold instincts as he splits his time working in a car shop, as a getaway driver, as a stunt driver and as an upcoming Nascar driver. So, mostly, he drives and watches people, reading situations and always staying on top. The film opens with the driver planning out a getaway job for two thieves. He picks up a car supplied to him by the owner of the shop he works at, then the criminals. Two minutes later he’s cooly handling a chase through the city streets of L.A. while listening to a basketball game and polices scanners. As the game is winding down the cops are closing in. The Driver shows no panic as the clock winds down on the game. Just as the buzzer blasts, the Driver pulls into the parking garage of the Staples Center, loses his car in the ocean of Toyotas and Hondas, puts a hat on his head, then calmly walks out of the garage, passing as a fan. Another mission completed.

The opening credits then roll, featuring music straight out of an 80-set John Hughes film. From here, we see bits and pieces of the Driver’s simple, fingerprint-free daily life. We see his boss Shannon, played by Brian Cranston, and are introduced to the other main players – mafiosos Nino (Ron Perlman) and Bernie (Albert Brooks) and the Driver’s beautiful neighbor, Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her young son, Benicio (Kaden Leos). Over the next three acts we see the unnamed Driver get mixed up with all of these people, always staying cool and calm. Something about the beauty and purity of Irene and Benicio turn the Driver on, eventually putting him in a situation that that forces him to act far outside his daily comfort zone.

Rather than discuss the many turns and layers of Refn’s crime drama, I’d like to now talk about the style of the film and, eventually, the crafty storytelling textures that most likely won’t pick up on. First, the brilliant style of the film …

Gosling’s Driver, for starters, is a sight. He wears a stuntman-styled coat with a scorpion stitched into the back – a subtle nod to the samurai element of the character. Aside from the coat, he blends in – seemingly styled after a Ken doll. As the film’s action segments play out, we see the Driver turn from a handsome shadow into a blood-soaked scorpion, striking quickly and confidently at all the right moments, taking down the danger in his way without losing his breath. He moves from person to person, conflict to conflict, each scene lit, framed and composed in a beautiful, poetic manner. The technique in this film is the stuff of legends, Refn and his crew’s work standing high above that of the average modern film. If nothing else, the movie is a clinic in lighting, editing and sound design (much of the Driver’s emotion is told through the cracking sound of his leather gloves – no joke). We see blood and love and cars. Villains and heroes and victims – and it’s all beautifully composed. Mostly, we see Gosling’s Driver, an unmarked loner who reminds a bit of the George Clooney character in last year’s great The American. We see him fall in love and take care of business.

But here’s where things get interesting: after the film a friend suggested a new layer. As the story plays we’re led to believe that, on the surface at least, the Driver is a normal guy put into extraordinary situations – a naturally cool, calm, collected guy seemingly capable of anything, so as long as it keeps his new love (Irene) out of harm’s way. That he handles these intense situations with such grace, precision and confidence seems, again, on the surface, like a dose of Hollywood fantasy. Led by a series of clues throughout the film, my movie-going pals and I figured some things out. If you’ve seen the film, you’ll remember the following bits of information: The Driver just showed up one day, got a job with a semi-connected garage owner, and began working for peanuts; the three additional male principals (Nino, Bernie and Shannon) all share an organized crime-infused history that we’re told links back to a Jersey crime family; the Driver leaves the catalyst for the tension in the film (a bag full of unmarked bills) behind with the final bloody body that stood in the way of Irene and Benicio’s safety. Those details in mind, we decided that the Driver was planted in L.A. to observe Shannon and his criminal friends – whom we learn feel unappreciated by their Jersey-based bosses. Sure, the Driver was there to put in work, too, but he was more or less a skilled spy, sent by the Jersey family. When the things get messy he acts – not as a quiet man who can drive cars, but as an instinctive and trained driver with a presumed history in the muscle game. One of the shadow men who keep things moving – a deeper variation of the Jackyl character in Tarantino’s Pulp Fiction.

The final scene, featuring a silent performance by Gosling, is the cherry on top. We see the just-stabbed Driver in his car, still, not moving, covered in the blood of himself and the three men who stood in his way. We sit starring at the still screen for a 30-second stretch that feels like an eternity, wondering if our hero is dead. Then, suddenly, the Driver blinks. Then starts his car. Then drives away. Probably towards Jersey. Irene and Benicio are safe; and thus the job is done. We’re left sad that the believable love-at-first-sight between Irene and the Driver didn’t come to fruition, but moved by the lengths our man went to in order to assure the safety of the films only two pure and innocent characters. The quick blast of love he found flipped a switch that, as movie-goers, we hope helps our man move up, on his way towards a more emotional, connected, human existence.

There’s more – much more – we could dissect and fawn over. In short, go to this movie; we promise that your film boner will pop through the roof of your car just as soon as your engine revs while driving home.

100/100