Ryan Gosling portrays the quiet, yet surprisingly violent lone-wolf. He doesn’t talk much; he doesn’t need to. He only does what’s necessary. He works for everybody, but at the same time, he works for no one. He’s never attached or committed to one thing long enough to put himself in grave danger. He drives, that’s what he does, and he’s good. Damn good.
Drive contains a super-cool, low-key rhythm. The film’s visual style is very controlled. Here is a director who understands the meaning of gritty suspense. Sometimes, less is more. Drive contains a plotline that could fit any action-type crime thriller, but the overall scintillating and stylish film grammar heightens the genre-like picture to a new and improved level. Drive never attempts to bombard the viewers with an operatic score, loud sound effects, and frantic editing. Hollywood action filmmakers need to take a few tips from director Nicolas Winding Refn.
Drive opens with a heist, in which Gosling is the getaway driver. The point-of-view never leaves the driver. In a subtle movement of taunt suspense, we watch him wait in silence as his associates run out with the loot. He’s cool, calm and collected, but underneath, we sense this dark rage about him. The absence of sound and the limited perspective increases the intrigue. I think that most Hollywood action directors, for example, Michael Bay (Bad Boys, Transformers), would underestimate the audience, and attack their senses with never-ending police chases, helicopters, and an overwhelming score. This is no Bad Boys (1995). Drive is mainstream mixed with an artsy, European-like flavor. The film is no quick fix, either. The pacing, camerawork, and editing are nicely composited, exuding a near-perfect style, complementing an entertaining story and highly engaging protagonist.
The story is essentially about the dark unfolding of a merciless character—a la Travis Bickle in Taxi Driver(1976). His portrayal in the beginning is quiet, but the brooding sense of a gasping explosion always lingers in the air. The stuntman driver gets mixed up in a botched-heist, involving stolen mob money. He’s forced in the job by his unintentional attraction for his neighbor, Irene, played by the talented, Carey Mulligan. The chemistry between the two leads is felt more by their body language than the dialogue. Furthermore, I love how scenes of sheer-cool romance are undercut by hardcore violence. Mulligan plays as a mother, taking care of her only child while her husband finishes his prison term. You can tell she’s smitten by Gosling, but both characters have a mutual respect for the conditions of their lives. Neither one decides to intrude, complicating matters, but more importantly, enjoy what they have. Gosling’s intentions are kind and loyal, but once you cross the line, there is no forgiving.
There were certain instances and details in the film that drew my attention. In one scene, Carey Mulligan is preparing for her date with Ryan Gosling, and before the scene ends, we hear the phone ring in the background. The plot moves into the next scene, where the two leads discuss a crucial phone call in the film. A less intelligent director would probably think that the audience needs to see a shot of Irene picking up the phone, or an excerpt from the actual conversation. I love how sound, alone, can move the story forward, without a whole bunch of explanation in the dialogue. Subtlety and reasoning over the smallest details can make a world of difference. It’s important to question every scene and ask, “Do we need a shot of this, or is it superfluous?”
Another great moment that I admired is a two shot scene in the apartment between Mulligan and Gosling. The director keeps Mulligan in the light, but we only view Gosling’s reflection in a mirror, in which a shadow covers his face. The artful composition of this shot cleverly expresses the dark side of his human nature.
My favorite detail in Drive was Ryan Gosling’s costume. In almost every scene he’s dressed in tight jeans that accentuate his long frame, and his signature stuntman driving jacket that has a scorpion etched on his backside. As the story unfolds and our dark hero’s violent tendencies come to the centerfold, his hip, retro-jacket becomes covered in more blood. However, he never takes it off; even when he meets with gangster Albert Brooks in a public restaurant. The driving jacket symbolizes what he’s best at. Sometimes, subtle and idiosyncratic details in the costume can say more about a character than their behaviors. It brings a sort of mythological dimension to the protagonist.
I love how director Nicolas Winding Refn frames every shot in the film. It’s done with clear precision and artistry. The use of slow-motion effects, combined with the laidback tempo of the electronic soundtrack pays homage to great stylistic directors, such as Sam Peckinpah (The Wild Bunch, Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia) and Sergio Leone (The Good, The Bad, and The Ugly). A tight script, enigmatic protagonist, and a strong visual style transcend the film out of the cycle of clichéd, crime pictures. As violent as Drive is, the plot, character development, and visual energy wins the final race.
**** (out of four stars)
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