Not to brag, but I know a lot of adjectives. I collect them as one does stamps. The more exotic the better. The more syllables the better.
I store all these adjectives tightly packed into some small space in some small crevice or fold in my brain, ready for employment at a moment’s notice. Whether that moment requires “postprandial” or “obsequious” or “nonplussed” or anything else, I’m ready and up to the task. And yet, despite this prowess, I simply can’t find a more appropriate word to describe Nicholas Winding Refn and Ryan Gosling’s new film, “Drive,” other than ‘’cool.”
But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. Despite its mundane ubiquity and overuse, “cool” can still evoke a sense of sleekness and desirability, and “Drive” is about as pure and complete an embodiment of coolness as one could ever hope to see at the theater.
The cars are cool. The chases are cool. The music is cool. The overhead shots of Los Angeles are cool. Ryan Gosling as Driver (we are never given a name, nor is one really necessary), with his scorpion-backed jacket and leather driving gloves and less-is-more attitude toward talking, is cool. “Drive” is just really really, _really_ cool. So cool that it’s perfect.
That last sentence may come as a surprise to those who know about “Drive” only what can be gleaned from the trailer or from synopsis. A Hollywood stunt driver and a getaway driver for petty thieves runs into some trouble with the L.A. mob and must fight to save his life and the life of the girl of his dreams.
I’ll admit that it sounds generic and done-to-death. But don’t let the plot’s similarity to mediocre movies like “The Transporter” fool you. I’m telling you that “Drive” is a perfect movie. Now let me explain why.
Director Nicolas Winding Refn (winner of this year’s Best Director prize at the Cannes Film Festival), identifies a mood and an essence — quiet and brooding and intense and honest — immediately in the first few seconds and sustains that feeling, never dropping or forgetting it, but building on it, complicating it, adding layers and strengthening it until the very last frame. This movie, more than anything else, knows exactly what it is and what it is capable of. As much as “Drive” doesn’t condescend itself to offer cheap laughs or schmaltzy romance, neither does it try to elevate itself falsely into something more philosophical or intellectual than necessary.
I’m not saying that “Drive” isn’t smart, because it is. I’m saying that it recognizes what it does well and hones in on that without trying to force in any faux profundity or insight. And in that respect, “Drive” is very much like its protagonist. Driver doesn’t dwell too much on complicated issues of right and wrong, good and evil. He doesn’t talk much or divulge anything at all about who he is or what he’s thinking. He drives. He drives better than anyone else in the world. And, accidentally, he falls in love.
The amazing thing about Ryan Gosling’s performance as Driver is the subtlety. He conveys as much or more in a single glance — in the shift of his eyes or in the appearance of a rare smile — as it would take other actors or other screenwriters paragraph-long monologues to convey. As much as we don’t _know_ Driver — where he’s from, what his name is, why he took up driving — we _understand_ him completely.
All this self-awareness, self-assuredness, self-respect and subtlety ultimately culminate into a movie that hits the gas pedal from the beginning and zooms thrillingly to the finish. It’s a fast ride, but you can still make out and appreciate the fine details of all that flashes by with awed precision. And that’s pretty cool.
5 out of 5