Drive (2011)
Based on a book by James Sallis, Drive also shares a number of similarities with the 1978 Walter Hill/Ryan O’Neal cult classic, The Driver. In both films the main character is a getaway driver, never referred to by name, whose silence is a prominent running theme. Like Hill’s actioner, Drive is strongest when it manages to remain grounded in a minimalistic approach that marks long passages of each film - however, both are also ultimately weakened by a series of plot excesses, and particularly in the case of Drive, over the top violence.
Danish Director Nicholas Winding Refn (the Pusher trilogy; Valhalla Rising; Bronson), 41, is no stranger to brutally violent films - in fact, his career to this point has been made up exclusively of work featuring violent protagonists. Gosling’s hand picked man impressively imbues the film with 80s flourishes, and, from the pink colored titles, to the electronic based soundtrack, to Gosling’s satin racing jacket and gloves, one cannot help but feel the overwhelming influence of films from that period - including Hill’s aforementioned fraternal twin; Friedkin’s 1985 cop drama, To Live and Die in L.A.; and particularly Michael Mann’s Miami Vice (84-90); Manhunter (1986), and Thief (1981).
Earlier in his career, Refn’s portrayed violence with far more restraint, making these well chosen/crafted scenes more disturbing, explosive, and realistic. His last two films, however, have seemed to take an increasing interest in revelling in all the blood and guts, ala Quentin Tarantino. What starts out as a moody, atmospheric neo-noir, compelling, even hinting at potential greatness for the first forty minutes, eventually devolves into utter cliche, becoming yet another cartoonish revenge action thriller.
Predictably, Gosling is the standout as the mysterious, soft spoken Driver (also referred to as ‘The Kid’), but there is some interesting casting going on - Albert Brooks, against type, as Bernie Rose, one half of a bad guy duo of sorts (in fact, the other half, Ron Perlman’s character Nino, seems in retrospect unnecessary); Christina Hendricks, underutilized as trashy Blanche; and Oscar Isaac as ex-con/other man Standard. Carey Mulligan is love interest Irene, and Bryan Cranston grizzled boss, Shannon, and their performances, like those of the rest of the cast are fine; unfortunately, the trod upon nature of the plot somehow eventually works to cast a shadow over the stronger elements of their individual turns.
It’s as if director Refn and screenwriter Hossein Amini didn’t trust that the style, pace, and the budding relationship of their leads could sustain for an hour and a half and felt the audience needed distractions aplenty as the film progresses. Though we start out with an edgy, restrained piece of cinema that seems to be easing into its story at a pleasingly leisurely pace, we are suddenly forced into an amped up roller-coaster ride that, unlike the previously referred to Thief, doesn’t feel at all earned. The third act is thusly filled with answering questions to a plot no one cares about, forgetting all about what was interesting in the first place.
Early on, though presented with a hackneyed set up, we as audience are willing to take the ride because the tone is so well attenuated, and there is mystery involving the people we meet. However, just as the intrigue is mounting, further character development is abruptly halted by a series of clumsily handled Charles Bronson moments, where a man who doesn’t carry a gun becomes an avenging angel of the highest order. There are plot details galore, including a tacked on ‘twist’, and all that wonderful subtly dominating most of first half of the film simply dissipates in a puff of smoke.
The real magic here is Gosling, and (for the first half anyway) an overall moodiness recalling an under-appreciated sub genre of films. What could have been a spare neo-noir with a slick retro vibe, instead becomes another hyper-violent, over-plotted action flick.