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Stuntman, get-away driver noir
By Christy Lemire |
September 25, 2011, Sunday
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Print Edition
Print Edition
LIKE Clint Eastwood's Man With No Name, Ryan Gosling, is simply known as the Driver in "Drive." Actually, he's barely even known as that, because the few people he comes into contact with don't really call him anything.
He's a stoic loner who does exactly what the title suggests. By day, he's a stunt driver, flipping cop cars for Hollywood productions. By night, he evades the police as a getaway driver for armed robberies, as he does in the film's tense, nearly wordless opening sequence.
No identity, no backstory. The Driver simply exists, moving from one job to the next without any pesky emotional attachments.
That he is such a cipher might seem frustrating, but Gosling's masculine, minimalist approach makes him mysteriously compelling. Yes, he's gorgeous. But he also does so much with a subtle glance, by just holding a moment a beat or two longer than you expect. He's defined not so much by who he is, but rather by what he does - how he responds in an increasingly dangerous series of confrontations.
His demeanor is the perfect fit for the overall approach from Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn ("Bronson"); cool and detached, "Drive" feels like an homage to early Michael Mann. It oozes sleek 1980s style, from its hot-pink titles to its electronic soundtrack to the silk racing jacket with a scorpion on the back that the Driver wears everywhere. Its neo-noir vision of contemporary Los Angeles is an anonymous sprawl of mini malls and Chinese food restaurants, run-down garages and cheap apartments, where most people are bad and the ones who are good are screwed. Film critics like to use the word "dystopian" at times like this. It's appropriate.
But the dreamlike, almost hypnotic pacing is punctuated with sudden, bloody blasts of violence. You're lulled in by the quiet seaminess of it all, and then bam - someone gets a fork in the eye. It's the kind of brutality that's so quick, creative and extreme, it'll provoke bursts of nervous laughter.
Even the Driver doesn't really want any trouble. He wants to get in, get out and be on his way. Once trouble finds him, though, he follows his own rigid code of honor, as so many reticent bad-asses are wont to do.
He gets involved with his neighbor down the hall, Irene (Carey Mulligan), a sweet, beautiful young woman with a sweet, beautiful young son. Then the kid's father (Oscar Isaac) gets out of prison, and the Driver gets dragged into a scheme to help steal US$1 million from a pawn shop to pay back his old debts.
Thinking back, there isn't really all that much driving in "Drive" - a couple of chase scenes here and there, staged efficiently, thrillingly. It's more about the questionable choices that drive people - and, ultimately, the ones that drive them away.
He's a stoic loner who does exactly what the title suggests. By day, he's a stunt driver, flipping cop cars for Hollywood productions. By night, he evades the police as a getaway driver for armed robberies, as he does in the film's tense, nearly wordless opening sequence.
No identity, no backstory. The Driver simply exists, moving from one job to the next without any pesky emotional attachments.
That he is such a cipher might seem frustrating, but Gosling's masculine, minimalist approach makes him mysteriously compelling. Yes, he's gorgeous. But he also does so much with a subtle glance, by just holding a moment a beat or two longer than you expect. He's defined not so much by who he is, but rather by what he does - how he responds in an increasingly dangerous series of confrontations.
His demeanor is the perfect fit for the overall approach from Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn ("Bronson"); cool and detached, "Drive" feels like an homage to early Michael Mann. It oozes sleek 1980s style, from its hot-pink titles to its electronic soundtrack to the silk racing jacket with a scorpion on the back that the Driver wears everywhere. Its neo-noir vision of contemporary Los Angeles is an anonymous sprawl of mini malls and Chinese food restaurants, run-down garages and cheap apartments, where most people are bad and the ones who are good are screwed. Film critics like to use the word "dystopian" at times like this. It's appropriate.
But the dreamlike, almost hypnotic pacing is punctuated with sudden, bloody blasts of violence. You're lulled in by the quiet seaminess of it all, and then bam - someone gets a fork in the eye. It's the kind of brutality that's so quick, creative and extreme, it'll provoke bursts of nervous laughter.
Even the Driver doesn't really want any trouble. He wants to get in, get out and be on his way. Once trouble finds him, though, he follows his own rigid code of honor, as so many reticent bad-asses are wont to do.
He gets involved with his neighbor down the hall, Irene (Carey Mulligan), a sweet, beautiful young woman with a sweet, beautiful young son. Then the kid's father (Oscar Isaac) gets out of prison, and the Driver gets dragged into a scheme to help steal US$1 million from a pawn shop to pay back his old debts.
Thinking back, there isn't really all that much driving in "Drive" - a couple of chase scenes here and there, staged efficiently, thrillingly. It's more about the questionable choices that drive people - and, ultimately, the ones that drive them away.
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