In an era where action movies careen from one explosion to the next and scenes are chopped to oblivion, creating an incomprehensible mess (not to mention the over-reliance on shaky-cam, ugh), Drive is refreshingly restrained. Director Nicolas Winding Refn (whose name I can't say without sounding like the Swedish Chef) takes his time to establish a mood and a tone. Shots are held for longer than two seconds and characters don't prattle on for minutes at a time giving out expository information. Refn trusts us to figure out who the characters are and what they're after. He also enjoys it when people get their heads stomped into oblivion.
Ryan Gosling (a.k.a. Baby Goose) plays an unnamed stunt driver/auto mechanic who moonlights as a getaway driver for hire. He's very much the definition of a lone wolf until he befriends his neighbor, Irene (a very mousy Carey Mulligan) and her son Benicio (Kaden Leos). Thus begins quite possibly the most chaste romance in the history of R-rated movies. Gosling and Mulligan spend scenes driving around saying nothing, or hanging out in her apartment, saying nothing. The first half of the movie is very quiet, almost meditative. When Gosling isn't hanging out with Irene and Benicio, he's driving around in a muscle car, wearing his awesome white satin jacket with a bright yellow scorpion on the back while the film's 80s inspired synth soundtrack plays in the background. The film almost lulls you to sleep with its mellow vibe. Then someone gets shot in the back with a shotgun during a heist gone wrong and you nearly crap your pants.
The shift in tone from a quiet movie about two characters falling for each other to an ultra-violent thriller would feel almost jarring if Refn didn't know exactly who his characters were and how to establish and maintain the slightly off-kilter tone of Drive. Sure, Gosling is smitten with his neighbor, but he also works for Shannon (the great Bryan Cranston), who walks around with a noticeable limp you're pretty sure he didn't get from a botched surgery. Shannon introduces him to Bernie Rose (an extremely menacing Albert Brooks) and Rose's partner Nino (Ron Perlman, who is pretty much the scariest dude on the planet). These are not nice men. Refn ratchets up the tension between all the key players and then releases the tension with bursts of blood-splattering ultra-violence that border on cartoonish. Other people in the theater with me were laughing during some of these scenes, presumably because it was preferable to crying.
Drive is ultimately an exercise in style. Refn isn't interested in digging any deeper than is necessary into his main character; the jacket, driving gloves and ever-present toothpick in his mouth pretty much say it all. Gosling simultaneously exudes vulnerability and menace, while also being a bit of a blank slate. (I'm not even sure that makes sense, but I'm going with it.) The movie is all atmosphere and makes me want to buy a muscle car and a scorpion jacket and go for a drive. I don't think I'll be stomping any heads though.
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