Thursday, August 25, 2011

Review - Drive


Grade: A-

Good: Refn’s striking visual style highlights an ultraviolent tale that blends the audio and visual into a killer cinematic experience. Gosling leads a cast of top-notch actors with reliable performers like Mulligan and Cranston deftly balancing the exaggerated and the restrained; unflinchingly, brutally violent.

Bad: A bit glacial in the early acts; romance subplot is a rehash of overused “monster becomes human through love plot; unflinchingly, brutally violent.

Ugly: The results of a shotgun blast to the face.

Anybody who drives stick knows that shifting is all about tension. Feeling the car strain under stress tells a good driver it’s time to shift gears and make a move. Ryan Gosling’s character, Driver—the second lead character, in a year’s time, named Driver since Dwayne Johnson’s turn in the thematically similar Faster—in Nicholas Winding Refn’s Drive is essentially shifting personified. Idling with unnerving calm, but displaying magnificent aggression when in motion.

Gosling shows a ridiculous amount of control as the possibly unhinged Driver, a preternaturally icy and fearless stuntman by day and a brutally efficient wheelman by night. Driver’s partner/mentor, Shannon (Bryan Cranston, again over his head in criminal activity), has dreams of making Driver a professional, ostensibly on the NASCAR circuit. Shannon’s dreams come, as they always do, with a heavy cost, which puts Shannon in debt with local producer turned heavy Bernie Rose (Albert Brooks, in a welcome diversion from his trademark L.A. neurotic) and his unstable partner, ironically Jewish Guido, Nino (Ron Perlman, extending his streak of playing unrepentant badasses). Meanwhile, Driver, who, for undisclosed reasons has found a way to live in relative isolation in the City of Angels, strikes up a friendship with single mother, Irene (an equally, amazingly restrained Carey Mulligan) who lives down the hall with her son Benicio—seriously, is Benicio Del Toro that popular that someone’s naming kids after him (which probably isn’t the case, but the name does stand out)? When Irene’s husband (Oscar Isaac) is released from prison and promptly forced to commit a stickup with the aid of the supple Blanche (Christina Hendricks), Driver is thrust into a tense web of ultraviolence and betrayal that may shift him completely out of gear (oh, the marketing folks should pay up for that one right now).

One thing Drive has that most mainstream films today lack, but indy and foreign films have in spades, is a wonderfully distinct visual style. Refn does an amazing job creating a palpable visual signature marked by a high contrast palette that gives L.A. a unsettling twilight glow after dark while days in the city are drenched with blinding white sunlight. Against this backdrop, Refn stagesa few—not enough for my tastes, especially in a movie about a wheelman—some simple, tense car chases and shockingly violent confrontations that occur with the sudden viciousness of a car accident. He combines these arresting visuals with a sublime aural experience, due mostly to a striking, if idiosyncratic score by Cliff Martinez that channels bubbly 80’s European electropop in a fascinating juxtaposition with savagery and vehicular aggression.

As overwhelming as Refn’s masterful marriage of sound and image is, Drive is blessed with a collection of top-notch talent delivering solid performances all around. Gosling’s performance as Driver is an intriguing experiment in restraint, as his nearly emotionless character rarely exhibits emotions beyond unsettling serenity and detached rage. Gosling’s, who is having such an amazing year that iTunes is hyping a collection of his most notable works, quality is well-known, and with Drive he only solidifies the validity of the acclaim despite being saddled with what is clearly a spin on the Dexter archetype (though Drive narrowly predates Dexter by about a year). Mulligan more than matches internalized intensity with her quietly suffering single mother. She gives Irene a shell-shocked quality that seems to mimic Driver’s detachment, but she grounds it with flashes of emotion, particularly when interacting with Driver or her son, that show she is not as lost as Driver. While reliable heavyweights like Cranston and Brooks perform with expected excellence, Perlman and Isaac sneak in to steal a few scenes as men at the end of their rope who are forced, like Driver, to make uncertain moves. Both make their character’s frustration and fear, respectively, so tangible in different ways—Perlman going more over the top and Isaac showing more reserve—that it's hard not to applaud their efforts. Hendricks role is, unfortunately, quite minor and never gives her a chance to show the charm that makes her such a draw on Mad Men.

Despite visuals, music and performance that are firing on all cylinders (I promise that will be the last car reference), Drive is weakened by glacial pacing in the first two acts and anchored by a clichéd human-love-heals-the-monster storyline that make it slightly less unique. The European influence is thick in Drive and some of the early acts are bound to lose viewers with weak attention spans, or at least those who are slavish to the rapid-fire movement of most modern mainstream cinema. The heavy focus on visuals, silence and atmosphere are candy for those who love the artistry of film, but those who are more riveted by a forceful story may feel a bit cold. Also, while Drive is an adaptation of James Sallis’ 2005 novel of the same name—which dug much deeper into Driver’s motivations—Refn’s choice to emphasize the dangerous-loner-falls-in-love-and-may-change-for-the-better angle is not particularly inspired. Anyone who has even seen at least one movie or show with that storyline as a central thread knows where Drive is headed. On a somewhat related note, Drive is brutal. The violence in this is shocking, sudden, and gory. To the faint of heart, you’ve been warned. To those who aren't, you've been prepped.

As a special treat, Refn’s was on hand after the credits rolled to hold a Q&A session, where he discussed the development process for Drive, the perils of the studio system and how he wooed Ryan Gosling while he was high on flu medicine. Refn offered some telling insights into his method and thematic focus for the film and the three—though I only counted two—car chases that served as Drive’s major set pieces. The session was valuable not only for the behind the scenes information, but for Refn’s insight on what he was trying to say with this intriguing piece of cinema. Suffice to say, without Refn’s comments, I would not have aligned my interpretation of the work with his. Take that as you will.

Overall, Drive is remarkable for being a fairly unique, yet undeniably effective cinematic experience, all without the aid of a third dimension and jacked ticket prices. It is indicative of a welcome trend where action movies are becoming more low-tech and simplistic in an era where such films can no longer compete with tentpoles that rest on CGI and built-in audiences. For those with the patience, appreciation for the visual artistry of cinema, and the stomach for brutality, Drive is definitely worth a ride (sorry, that's absolutely the last driving reference).

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