Truth be told, I’ve been growing pretty restless over new movies. It’s hard to get turned on by yet another reboot or remake (Straw Dogs, really?). Or the endless supply of loud brassy action or slicing and dicing now shot in 3-D. Then came Drive, one of the strangest and most exciting movies that I’ve seen in a very long time. Drive’s strength lies in the fact that that it so different that most canned films made today. My friend described it perfectly as “new and true” because “They just don’t make movies like this right now!”. Lately Hollywood seems void of new ideas, a recycling plant for known money makers and empty celebrity driven features that will just break even.
Drive is a risk: a slow starter who’s second act comes like a swift punch in the gut, leaving you reeling and as confused as ever. The action and violence that’s alluded to in it’s trailer and posters that warn “There are no clean getaways” are only a preview of what’s to come. I should have known when the beat dropped for Kavinsky’s Nightcall that this was gonna be something different. But it’s better that I keep the details to a minimum and you’ll be thankful for my vagueness later. Drive isn’t perfect, mainly for the fact that when the movie does kick into gear it feels as if you’ve returned from a bathroom break and entered a different theater. But it somehow works thanks to its protagonist simply called Driver, played by Ryan Gosling. Ladies stop fanning yourself and guys hold the hater-aid, the guy is a star and can carry a film. Gosling is really good. So get over it. Drive is rounded out by beautiful cinematography, bold costume choices and strong performances by Bryan Cranston, Ron Perlman, and Carey Mulligan. I can’t remember the last time I left a theater this excited. I would have done a cartwheel in Union Square if only I knew how.
