DRIVE - Movie Review

People often ask me why I hate action movies.

This is, of course, an impossible question. Impossible because it's based on an incorrect assumption. Because, while action movies very rarely make it onto my list of great films, I do still appreciate the genre. In fact, when done well, I downright love the genre. The problem is, when it comes to making action thrillers these day, it just doesn't seem as though they are trying very hard. Computer generated effects do not a great movie make. And the writer by committee approach to most studio action flicks gives a whole new meaning to the time honored phrase "too many cooks in the kitchen." Or maybe the simple fact is that most action directors these days simply just aren't very good.

From the opening frames of Nicolas Winding Refn's new potboiler, "Drive," we know that we've at least avoided that last pitfall.

Methodically and confidently building suspense not through showy effects, but through basic pacing and a sharp (note: not necessarily quick) editing, he announces his intentions early. He's going to tell us a story. He's not going to rush. He's not going to try to bowl us over what he can do with the camera. He's simply going to tell us a story. And he's going to tell it well.

As the 1980's infused pop score plays over the opening credits, we realize this film is throwback in more ways than one. Not simply an homage to Walter Hill's brilliant Ryan O'Neal starrer "The Driver," but a testiment to the crime thriller itself. In a way, this film's roots trace it's inspiration to an even earlier time, the film noir movement of the late 40's and 50's. A genre whose morally ambiguous leading men often found themselves roaming the streets trying to find a way out of a dilemna they themselves have created. Fighting a system they have no hope to actually conquer. In a seemingly inevitable race against time itself.

Like many of those brilliant early works of cinema, "Drive" takes place in the bright and guilty place itself, Los Angeles. But not the Los Angeles of glitterati and movie premieres. Instead, it dwells in the city's lower depths. The places where the bottom feeders and the broken dreamers nurse their afflictions of disappointment at the bottom of a bottle or in the arms of the closest warm body.

It's a Los Angeles, that many Angelenos know too well. For every Hollywood star, there are a thousand would-be's that just never quite made it. For every mansion, there are ten thousands hovels inhabited by those whose expectations have gone from fame and riches to simply trying to make it through the day.

Ryan Gosling's character, known simply as "Driver," exists in such a place. Possessing the natural gifts to take any NASCAR driver in a one-on-one race, he instead uses his talents to shepard around would-be criminals for five minute intervals at a time. Selling his services to the highest bidder, we can imagine a younger version of The Driver who might have one day had much more lofty dreams. As he picks up odd jobs as a stunt man on Hollywood movie sets, we imagine a world where he too could be the leading man instead of simply a human test dummy.

Gosling plays the character with such innate saddness that every small joy is reason for our hearts the cheer. The small smile which creases his face at the innocence of a child. The larger smile gained by the sight of that child's mother, Irene, played by Carey Mulligan (An Education, Never Let Me Go), continuing her streak of characters who, despite my best efforts, I can't help but to fall in love with by the end of their time on screen.

Of course, Irene is living with her own disappointments. A single mother still tethered to a husband in prison. Living in the same shabby dwelling as her Driver neighbor. She deserves a smile too. And for a moment, the two lonely hearts get to have their happiness.

But only for a moment. If these were lives where dreams came true, these two would hardly be living in the situation they are now. If this were a world with easy answers, we'd be living in a different movie. And thank goodness for those viewing this masterwork of tension, we are not.

Instead, Refn weaves a tangled web coiled with intracate characters and memorable moments.

I chuckled for a moment when I realized that under the two leads and a memorable Albert Brooks playing against type as a very bad man who coincidentally is also somewhat connected to the movies, that the cast was basically filled with television all-stars. Bryan Cranston, currently crafting one of TV's most memorable characters on "Breaking Bad" plays The Driver's agent to the underworld and closest friend. Christina Hendricks, the hourglass-figured Joan Holloway from AMC's other Emmy hoarder "Mad Men" plays a pivotal role. Even resurgent Ron Perlman from "Sons of Anarchy" gets to sink his teeth into a meaty role made-to-order. This excellent casts supports a terrific ensemble of leads in a film with simply too many good moments to mention.
Fair warning, it can be brutal. I had to avert my eyes on more than one occasion to avoid being splattered with blood. The Driver doesn't believe in guns. But he's very much at home with blunt force.

Yet unlike the carbon copy action films that role off the Hollywood assembly line, every death in this film comes with consequence. Both for the victim and victor. This is a film where life counts. And while there will naturally be certain moviegoers who simply enjoy the gore, a more refined viewer will see that this callous extinguishing of life is yet another layer of melancoly added to lives which already feel forgotten.

Bravo to Nicolas Winding Refn for crafting a film that not only satisfies the suspense junkie in all of us, but paints a complete portrait of complex characters living the best they can. These are people who already know that happily ever after isn't really an option for them. But to see the one you love smile back at you, even for just a moment, sometimes that's all you can ask for.