2011 | USA | Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn
Logline: A Hollywood stunt driver who moonlights as a wheelman becomes involved with his new neighbour, and then deals with gangsters after a heist has gone wrong.
Drive is Refn’s second “American” movie, after Fear X, a David Lynchian-styled psychological thriller that was simply too obscure for most American audiences and as such tanked at the box office, thus resulting in Refn filing for bankruptcy. In turn he made two Pusher sequels and re-enforced his furious talent as a cinematic storyteller and virtuoso filmmaker. He pushed the art vs. commerce envelope again with Bronson and Valhalla Rising, and solidified his position as one of the most gifted contemporary directors in the world. With Drive, Refn returns to the American crime movie, this time peeling back the skin on the film soleil genre, and exposing his David Lynch meets Martin Scorsese soul.
Refn spent his formative years in America, so it makes sense that he would embrace the classic noir, and put his neo spin on it. Based on a novel by James Sallis and screenwritten by Hossein Amini, Drive is a very simple tale told beautifully. It’s also ultra-violent in places, and it seduces the viewer with its effortlessly languid, but compelling pace, its pulsing electronic soundtrack made up of Cliff Martinez’s ambient score and several electro-pop tunes that sound like they’ve been lifted from early 80s.
The whole feel of the movie is very retrolicious; the font of the opening credits – especially the electric pink of the title, and of course the music. Ryan Gosling’s Driver character (he’s never named) sports a puff hip-hop jacket with a huge golden scorpion emblazoned on the back. The scorpion is an important visual motif, as it symbolises the core character trait of our anti-hero protagonist: he will never change the true nature of his ways.
The tale of the frog and the scorpion – which Driver begins to tell a villain over the phone – is where the scorpion asks the frog to carry him on his back across the river. The frog says, “But you’ll sting me if I do,” and the scorpion replies, “No I won’t, I need to get across the river.” So the frog agrees, but halfway across the scorpion’s tail lashes out and stings the frog, and the frog says in mortal dismay, “But you said you wouldn’t sting me!” and the scorpion sighs, and says, “I know … but it’s in my nature.”
Refn’s cast is to die for; Gosling has never commandeered the screen in the way he does here, his cool good looks, toothpick in mouth, driving gloves on. He doesn’t say much, but his body language speaks volumes. Carey Mulligan as Irene, his neighbour in the apartment block, is quiet and slightly nervous in disposition. Oscar Isaac is Irene’s husband Standard (there’s a joke spoken), who is released from prison, but has debts to pay. Albert Brooks and Ron Perlman are Bernie Rose and Nino, respectively; two middle-aged gangsters with attitude and aggression. Bryan Cranston is Driver’s mechanic buddy, and Christina Hendricks, in a small but striking bit part, plays white trash Blanche.
There are no clean getaways, reads the movie’s tagline. Drive, despite its title, doesn’t feature a lot of fancy driving, but there are some memorable scenes behind the wheel; the dialogue-free opening sequence where Driver is wheelman on a heist. It’s a stunning set piece where the audience is pulled right inside Driver’s job. There’s Driver’s date drive with Irene and her young son Benicio, “Hey, you wanna see something cool?”, and there’s Driver’s getaway haul with a distraught Blanche in the backseat.
Drive is pure mood, tone, and performance, expertly delivered. This is a romance for rev-heads, a gangster thriller for romantics. It doesn’t suffer fools gladly, it takes no prisoners, and it doesn’t offer soft options. Murphy’s Law lurks around the corner. Drive tests the boundaries, plays the game, takes the baton, and floors it. You’re unlikely to see a better movie this year, this is a modern classic from a master director still only in his early 40s.
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