As a subcategory of the horror genre, the exorcism film does not have the best reputation. For every The Exorcist, there are a dozen Posessed’s and Beyond the Door’s. Yet, when done well, there is rarely something as profoundly [...]
It is difficult to know how to react when the credits roll after Drive. Applause for a tight and generally well crafted film? Disappointment, that the excitement and action has concluded? Or dance, commemorating the film’s fantastic soundtrack? One thing is certain: you’ll walk out with a feeling of contentment and satisfaction rarely awarded by film. Because if there is one thing that Drive is, it’s a good movie.
One of Drive’s greatest strengths is its commitment to a strong, straightforward plot. The Driver (Ryan Gosling, whose highly anticipated return to the silver screen has not failed to surpass expectations) is employed performing vehicle stunts for Hollywood while moonlighting as getaway wheels for petty criminals and a mechanic at a local garage. The apathetic balance of his life is thrown askew when he gets in over his head with an organized crime circuit.
Having set up this plot line, the film then leaves the plot to essentially solve itself. Instead of preoccupying itself with clever twists or richly layered dialogue, the film steps back to place it in context. Director Nicholas Winding Refn, who most recently directed the spare, stoic Viking drama Valhalla Rising, allows the Driver’s story to unfold upon the massive backdrop of Los Angeles. This is an alternate universe,existing in quiet dichotomy with the glittery world of Hollywood. The city Drive portrays is slick pavement, dim streetlights, and shadows. No one speaks because no one needs to. A cracked smile, a blink, that is the currency of communication.
Winding Refn uses Los Angeles as a character in itself. From scenes of sunshine and water in the polluted L.A. River to a tense scene where the Driver uses overpasses to hide from a police helicopter, the geography of Los Angeles is essential to the action and plot development. In particular, the lighting is used purposefully to evoke moods, surging warmth in scenes of romance, and cold whites and glaring reds with violence. The streets are brimming with the sleek forms of cars, and these cars are not the passive vehicles of action from standard film chases; instead they hold the same energy and character as a shuddering stallion. Frequently, the physical actions of the car mirror the Driver’s mood, stopping when he is surprised, accelerating with his rage.
In at times comedic and villainous roles, Bernie (Albert Brooks) and Nino (Ron Perlman) are bursting with menace while still appearing natural, realistic.The violence in turn is very careful, with tasteful but explicit gore. As the film progresses and the Driver delves deeper into the treacherous waters of Bernie and Nino’s world, the tension gains momentum and accelerates to a fantastic and bloody climax.
But for all its simplicity, Drive is not one, long car chase. Underneath all of the blood, the gasoline, and the tire marks, there is an interesting view of Hollywood, and the effects of a world where the artificial lies in bed with the dangerously tangible. The Driver mainstreams as a stunt driver,performing car rollovers like circus tricks. We see the expenses put into the faux-violence, the faux-danger, but what of the cost? Drive shows us what happens when the artificial and the tangible bleed into each other, as the line between film and reality blurs. While the Driver may accomplish a safe rollover on screen, in real life, rollovers and fights and guns end in death. And the good guys don’t always walk away at the end.
This retrospective view of film continues to the last scene, with a Lynchian ending that leaves the viewer guessing, and more importantly, wanting more. One thing’s for sure, if the Driver wants to go for another, we call shotgun.
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