Driver is a skilled Hollywood stuntman who moonlights as a getaway driver for criminals. Though he projects an icy exterior, lately he's been warming up to a pretty neighbor named Irene and her you...
Drive accelerates through stylish neon districts with unsubstantial tyres. Los Angeles, California. Dimly lit street lamps illuminate the fading roads. Traffic lights controlling its mechanical flow. Red. An anonymous Hollywood stunt driver patiently waits whilst revving the booming engine of his ‘73 Chevy Malibu. Leather gloves fastened. A toothpick precariously lodged between his lips. Embracing a calm demeanour. Green. The driver proceeds across the city, shrouded in darkened moonlight, promptly arriving at his destination. A watch strapped to the steering wheel commences ticking. Five minutes. Sweat eventually percolates from his once cool forehead, with each second anxiously passing. Two unknown mobsters eventually leave a building, with two substantial bags of money in tow, entering the backseats of the parked car. The driver, a mechanic and stuntman by day, rampantly flees the scene whilst being pursued by police cars and helicopters. Bright spotlights intersecting the neon-lit streets. The silent driver evades the law, returning to his quaint apartment where he rapidly develops amicable feelings towards his new neighbour Irene. Yet their blossoming romance is abruptly interrupted when her husband is released from prison, required to pay off substantial protection money. A new heist develops, however its awry nature unequivocally endangers all the lives directly, and indirectly, involved.
Refn’s adaptation of Sallis’ crime novel is one throwback thriller that has been lauded with praise with every passing year since its initial release back in ‘11. Objectively speaking, it’s relatively simple to see why. A revelatory piece of virtuosity, where each electrifying shot from Sigel’s flawless cinematography, is integrated with clinical precision and technical astuteness. The opening five minute getaway drive, with zero dialogue from the film’s protagonist, accelerates the tension beyond description. The frenetic energy of the surrounding lights, the masterful sound editing of the exhaust pipe booming down the streets of LA, and the sensational panning of the camera within the vehicle itself. Undoubtedly, the driving sequences is when Refn showcases his directorial talents, embodying a contagious confidence throughout.
It’s provocative film-making, engaging as many senses as virtually possible. A notable example would be the elevator scene. The internal lights dim when the driver passionately smooches Irene, with slow-motion increasing its lingering longevity. The lights re-illuminate, the driver protects Irene by graciously moving her to the side before proceeding to bash a mobster’s skull repeatedly in with his hefty shoe. A perfect depiction of visual storytelling without the need for inconsequential dialogue. Martinez’ synthesised score embraces the abstract electronic aesthetic that Refn yearned to imitate from 80s neo-noir flicks, producing an illusory aura throughout.
So, as mentioned previously, the gorgeous technicalities are faultless, in what is Refn’s most efficiently directed feature to date. Having said that, there are fundamental issues littered throughout, both from an objective and subjective viewpoint. For starters, Amini’s strained screenplay and the uncreative choice to adapt a non-linear story into superfluous linearity. Drive commenced its contents with such bravura, resorting to no dialogue whatsoever. Conveying a gritty world of realism through visuals alone. Breathtakingly refreshing. Then the characters begin to talk, and the acute attention dissipates almost immediately. The problem is not necessarily the fact these individuals talk like emotionless androids, it’s more leaning towards the overwhelming simplicity of the dialogue. For example, when the driver and Irene become accustomed to each other, they begin to ask questions in the most monotonous way possible. “What do you do?”. “I drive.”. “Like a limo driver?”. “No, like, for movies.”. “Oh. You mean all the car chases and stuff?”. “Yeah.”. “Isn’t that dangerous?”. “It’s only part-time. Mostly I work at a garage.”. So, in the space of five seconds, Irene ascertains what her neighbour does for a living in approximately eight lines of dull dialogue, expressed emotionlessly to emphasise the awkward communicative abilities he possesses. Yet, it could’ve easily been conveyed through visual narrative instead.
Many will claim the script to be “succinct”. But what does that prove? The “succinctness” unfortunately possesses a redundancy that makes these characters emotionally non-investable. Gosling shaking in fear and anxiety whilst holding a bullet and a hammer between a man’s eyes? Perfect. Gosling attempting to be menacing by whispering “shut your mouth or I’ll kick your teeth down your throat”? Not even comparable. It was as if Amini was attempting to channel some memorable gangster lingo to masquerade the screenplay’s lucidity.
A consequence of all of this, is that the romance between the two neighbours was, for the most part, inaccessible. Underdeveloped whilst surrounded by artificiality, which ultimately weakens the driver’s central motives as this “guardian angel” figure. The characterised acting from the cast members were hit and miss. Mulligan, Isaac and Gosling chewed up every scene. Cranston, Brooks and Perlman were all either underused or hammed up their performances, particularly Perlman as a pizzeria Jewish gangster. Lastly, the gratuitous violence really did not add anything to the film’s impact. Remove it, and the end result would still be the same.
Drive remains one of those acclaimed films that started a rejuvenation for hyper-stylised carnage. With its vivid imagery, striking score and flawless direction, it’s a film that understands the craft of film-making as an art form. Yet the low amount of basic dialogue should’ve either been culled entirely or added to, as it currently diminishes an incredibly visceral thriller.
