Drive (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2011)

[John Cope]

Ned, I really like the idea that he's conscious of his own role playing, be it with the jacket on as the tough guy or with it off as the modest civilian at work or with Carey. I think, perhaps, that driving then is the only time he feels real, his only heroic escape from existentialism in general.

I could have this wrong as I haven't seen the film in a couple weeks now but isn't the last shot in the elevator sequence (as the doors close and Driver remains behind) a medium close up of Gosling from behind, framed in such a way as to emphasize his jacketed torso only and, of course, the scorpion thereon? If this is the last shot in that scene I wonder how we are to interpret that. I wouldn't say that Refn is aligning himself with Driver's self-conception, approving of it or even accepting it, as much as recognizing it, noting its relevance.

As to the rest of the discussion, it is an interesting question to say the least: what constitutes the real self and is that any less prone to mythmaking or is it any less myth, period?

[matrixschmatrix]

Yeah, the "deluxe version" thing makes it totally clear that we're supposed to read Standard and Driver in terms of one another- I thought there was an irony there, though, as Standard (though in many ways kind of an asshole) seemed to me a more genuine and less murderous person, someone who is actually capable of living a normal life.

John- I don't remember it being highlighted then, but there's a point later in the movie at which that scorpion is highlighted just after Driver relates the story of the scorpion and the frog, which certainly implies that a.) he is the scorpion in that story, b.) he does have an inherent nature- an authentic self- and that nature is dangerous and violent and unsafe to be around. That's reinforced by the thing with Benicio, talking about the shark (the shark in the cartoon, where it's a villain because it's a shark and sharks are always villainous.)

[Mr. Ned]

Flip-side of that is Driver is playing the role of the scorpion with Bernie to protect the boundaries and innocence of Irene and Benicio from being breached; it's not his authentic nature, but the nature he needs to embody in that particular context. Again, mythologizing his ambiguity and his actions, but that's the point anyways.

[matrixschmatrix]

Hmm, that doesn't make sense to me in terms of the actual story of the frog and the scorpion, which is entirely about the idea of the inescapable, essential self- the 'role' of the scorpion makes no sense as something one would intentionally adopt, as the whole point of the story is that the expression of what the scorpion fundamentally is doomed both and benefited no one. Moreover, neither Nino nor Bernie fit the role of the frog at all.

One could read Driver's use of the story in terms of Nino and Shannon- Shannon the innocent frog, who trusts gangsters who will inevitably destroy him, and Nino the man who is so destructive that he destroys himself in wiping out his targets- but the scorpion on Driver's jacket is so prominent in that scene that it practically begs you to cast him in that role.

[James Mills]

Ned, I really like the idea that he's conscious of his own role playing, be it with the jacket on as the tough guy or with it off as the modest civilian at work or with Carey. I think, perhaps, that driving then is the only time he feels real, his only heroic escape from existentialism in general.

I could have this wrong as I haven't seen the film in a couple weeks now but isn't the last shot in the elevator sequence (as the doors close and Driver remains behind) a medium close up of Gosling from behind, framed in such a way as to emphasize his jacketed torso only and, of course, the scorpion thereon? If this is the last shot in that scene I wonder how we are to interpret that. I wouldn't say that Refn is aligning himself with Driver's self-conception, approving of it or even accepting it, as much as recognizing it, noting its relevance.

As to the rest of the discussion, it is an interesting question to say the least: what constitutes the real self and is that any less prone to mythmaking or is it any less myth, period?

As matrix pointed out, the symbol of the scorpion is prominent through different parts of the film and to me is a metaphor for his true nature, the nature that he can't escape. At the same time, acting within his nature is the only time I think he may be able to feel anything (hence his occupation as a stunt driver). With this interpretation, completely going against my earlier thoughts / statements, it makes sense that he'd be so willing to sacrifice his own life for this woman and her son on a dime because he has nothing to live for anyways. They're merely an escape from his existentialist outlook on life, and when that idea goes awry (the head stomping scene being his realization), he carries through with the rest of the plan not only to be the white night or hero, but because I think deep down inside he wants to feel something anyways, and the only way he can feel anything is by embracing this rage within him...

You guys have convinced me to see it again asap, so I'm going to the Los Feliz 3 to catch it at 9:45 tonight. I'm excited to see it with all of this in mind.

[Mr. Ned]

That's what I didn't like about the usage of the fable: Bernie is not a frog in the sense that he'd be gullible enough to let a scorpion ride on his back. He's ruthless, territorial and calculating, ready to dish out payback the minute Driver screws up Nino's plans. The fact it doesn't compute with Driver's usage of the story made me think it was another conscious endeavor to appropriate the narrative and identity necessary to the circumstances, not an indirect confession of his irrepressible tendencies. Yes, he goes too far in the elevator and with Nino, but his confrontation with Bernie seems decidedly more based in protection of the innocent parties involved than a complete affirmation of inner rage or homicidal tendencies.

[James Mills]

Just got back from my second viewing and while I think I'm more secure in some of our theories, a couple seemed to have been mollified. I failed to see any evidence at all that he is in fact self conscious of his cool-guy persona and style (that we are introduced to immediately in his interactions), let alone the notion that he is purposefully mindful to maintain it. This is unfortunate for me because I feel like it detracts from the deeper level of vulnerability that this character is capable of exhibiting. I feel like this results in his character arc being: cool yet psychopathic existentialist seeks to feel passion for something other than adrenaline and ultimately fails, when it could have been: psychopathic existentialist that pretends to be cool to inhibit his lust for adrenaline seeks to become normal (thus relinquishing the front of his cool guy persona) through human relations but fails. Not sure that makes sense, but in a nutshell: as it is, Driver is a caricature at the beginning of the film, void of any emotion and really that cool that he doesn't give a fuck about anything, before developing into a character that reveals his vulnerabilities (psychopathic nature and lust for adrenaline) and desires (to find purpose and meaning in the normal aspects of life like most people appear to have). I think this lack of depth as we meet him disproves the theory that he's been searching for some form of connection to humanity for awhile, but I now think his sanctifying actions for Irene and Benicio are plausible given his desire for adrenaline and violence in general.

I feel that his desires to become "normal" in these regards is readily apparent throughout the film; he longingly, almost wistfully, watches out over the park at people walking around with their families. He takes them to a creek within the seedy LA River, a spot he's probably visited before and wished he could share with someone else (where we first hear the "Real Hero" song and its lyrics "real human being..." repeat over and over again). At the same time, however, I thought he realized that he couldn't pretend to be "normal" once she witnessed him crush the man's head, hence why he leaves alone, almost in spite of her, once ensuring their safety. I now believe that him leaving them at the end was the real act of heroism, the real sacrifice that he felt he was personally making; the rest was done out of revenge and joy just as much as for their benefit, but him leaving them is completely selfless, and I think he realizes this given his final call to her before departing (telling her how much they meant to him, as if ensuring her that "it's not you, it's me"). I believe that long gaze in his car before departing is him deliberating whether or not to go back, as if he knows that they love each other, but also knows that nature and his troubles will catch up to him again soon enough and that he doesn't want them to be in any danger. He may not be a "real human being," but I think he's content enough with feeling like a "real hero" here.

This is what I took from it, at least. While I still feel that there could have been room for a greater sense of realism within the Driver in the first act (and that other characters could have been deeper in general), I greatly appreciate this film more now upon everyone's insight on here and a second viewing.

[matrixschmatrix]

The long held shot in the car is clearly meant to build up suspense about whether or not he's alive, since it echoes an earlier shot of Shannon, when we first see his corpse. The implication in-story, to me, is that he's building himself up to get moving again.

I don't think I agree that "the lack of depth as we meet him disproves the theory that he's been searching for some form of connection to humanity for awhile"- I think his characterization at that point fits the idea that he's been through this cycle repeatedly, wherein he becomes attached to someone, gets involved in their life, and in some way gets burned and has to leave. Thus, he's very vulnerable to any sign of human warmth, but he's also trying somewhat to hold himself aloof from it. He has no problem doing so with gangsters, but is caught immediately by Carey Mulligan and her son's banter. I think there's definitely A History of Violence sense that though he's not anxious to get mixed up in violence (again), part of him cries out for it, and I think his violent defense of the people he's decided to love is partially in service of that urge, but I also think he's genuinely interested in being part of a family.

Shannon's description of his arrival, out of nowhere, with nothing, implies that he's lather-rinsed-repeated his life more than once, and (in another echo of Taxi Driver I thought the end implied he was very much in the state he was in the beginning. He's going to go off somewhere, start over, and presumably get mixed up in something again, leading to yet another departure. Or, of course, he's like a dog, going off to die where his death won't grieve her. There's an ambiguity to the ending, in that respect.

[mfunk9786]

matrixschmatrix might as well get my Poster of the Year vote, because I don't know how he continues this conversation without hanging himself

[Grand Illusion]

I agree with James about what the actual final heroic action is, as I stated a few pages back in my overview. Despite an act of genuine heroism, however, I also agree with matrix that this very well may be a cyclical thing for Driver. The only thing holding me back from that interpretation is his age.

If he arrived in LA some six years ago, then this "cycle" could only have gone on maybe twice. And the cycle would happen over very formative years of a young man's life. So how often does something have to occur to be a pattern?

Anyway, after all this, I think the big question is that if Ryan Gosling is the scorpion in the scorpion/frog fable, then who was the river?

[James Mills]

I don't think I agree that "the lack of depth as we meet him disproves the theory that he's been searching for some form of connection to humanity for awhile"- I think his characterization at that point fits the idea that he's been through this cycle repeatedly, wherein he becomes attached to someone, gets involved in their life, and in some way gets burned and has to leave. Thus, he's very vulnerable to any sign of human warmth, but he's also trying somewhat to hold himself aloof from it. He has no problem doing so with gangsters, but is caught immediately by Carey Mulligan and her son's banter. I think there's definitely A History of Violence sense that though he's not anxious to get mixed up in violence (again), part of him cries out for it, and I think his violent defense of the people he's decided to love is partially in service of that urge, but I also think he's genuinely interested in being part of a family.

I didn't elaborate enough on what I meant there; I was referring strictly to the love interest of Irene and the possibility that he has been searching for human relations via romance for quite some time. I think it's clear that this routine of finding trouble while trying to assimilate into normality has happened before, hence the whole backstory that Shannon explains (though, like Grand Illusion stated, this has most likely only happened a few times due to his age). His feelings for Irene seem to be genuinely unique to me, however, fledgling from emotions he's not very familiar with. So while he's wanted to feel normal and have human connections before (which probably lead to his running away 6 years ago and eventually the void of emotion he uses to protect himself that he showcases at the beginning of the film), I'm not sure they were as romantically or sexually driven, or perhaps as family driven, as they are for Irene and Benicio in the present timeframe of the film. Of course, these are all just educated guesses and assumptions though.

I think if we look at the symbol of "the river" in the fable, it is merely the obstacle or antagonist to which the frog must overcome. In the film, the only real challenge that Driver faces is himself, so I find it hard to assign anyone else that role of the river. To the Driver, I think these villains are merely pawns who've already given up on life, and destroying them is more satisfying to his own obsession with violence than anything else. The real call to action then is not the introduction of these gangsters from Standard's release (remember that he was already surrounded by these seedy people and jobs in the first place, as if he was already anticipating and awaiting this kind of mayhem), but Driver consciously deciding to let himself feel again and make the effort to open up to reveal his true self, to face the question of whether or not he can be loved as the monster he truly is and whether or not he can transcend his monstrous past.

I'm not sure there really are specific roles from the fable that we can assign to the characters, but I think it's interesting that the Driver feels like his own worst enemy in a plot that's ridden with dangerous villains. The question of who's the frog concerns me more, though. Someone mentioned Bernie earlier, but I don't think I understood their reasoning. I hate to say it, but at least in my interpretation of what the river is, Irene seems like the conduit that can get him to normality on the other side, but alas his true nature reveals itself and leaves her aloft. Meh, I'm probably giving this too much thought.

[matrixschmatrix]

I don't think it's likely to be fruitful to try and pin down how the scorpion/frog thing works out too precisely, since I think it's something of an open metaphor within the movie- like Jules' (fictional) Bible passage in Pulp Fiction. I think it fits different characters at different points in the movie.

The idea that Irene is the frog is interesting- it reinforces the idea that it's heroic for him to have split, as the situation set up is that he is the inherently dangerous, violent creature, she is the harmless and gentle one he needs to get where he wants to be, and he is aware that his immutable nature will fuck that up and get them both killed. In that reading, the parable is predictive and not descriptive, and something that Driver is kind enough to head off. Which, I think, works fairly well as far as it goes.

[Grand Illusion]

I was kidding about the river.

[Mr. Ned]

Not to stray away from discussion, but what are the legitimate chances CC picks this up for the collection? If things like Thief and a Le Samourai blu are really in the pipeline, I foresee some interesting reviews with Refn on personal influences and other such nonsense.

[knives]

He might add some extra to those films if a release does happen, but unless Film District does an IFC we'll never see a Crit of this.

[mfunk9786]

I'll take, hmmm... Drive, The Rum Diary, and Looper please. #notgoingtohappen

[dad1153]

Saw "Drive" last weekend. My first Refn movie. While mostly an unoriginal revenge crime noir (shades of Alain Delon's character in "Le Samouraï" plus "The Stunt Man" and every Walter Hill and Michael Mann 80's movie ever made) "Drive" embraces its derivative pieces and assembles them into an arthouse-meets-mainstream mesh that won't please everybody (my midnight theater crowd got restless with the pace of conversation scenes and outright hostile/incredulous at the gore/violence) that feels solid and confident throughout. Ryan Gosling gives so much of his character away by doing so little (especially movement) it's remarkable; the Driver's Kubriesque manners are a perfect 'ying' to the camera-mugging supporting peformance 'yangs' from Brooks (cast against type), Perlman (dependably sleazy), Bryan Cranston (who, like Jon Hamm, is big on TV but works best on the big screen in supporting work) and Carey Mulligan (who looks an awful lot like Larisa Oleynik). Like a time warp back to the 80's (pink font titles, Kavinsky's 'Nightcall' in the background, etc.) the elevator scene where Driver and Irene connect right before he's forced to violently reveal his true self is a self-contained world onto itself, one of many in perpetual orbit in "Drive's" cinematic galaxy of never-ending homages.

[Jean-Luc Garbo]

I watched the film for a second time last weekend so I’m now even more fascinated by the use of surface in the film. An important aspect of the film’s aesthetic, it’s strange to me that this has received so much criticism from various reviewers. I think that the setting in Los Angeles is a key to interpreting the film and certainly not a coincidence. A direct comment on this is one of the most evocative uses of the film’s recurring mirror motif and it highlights the film’s use of surface as well as identity. This occurs near the beginning of the film when the camera tracks past a mirror on the set to reveal the Driver on the other side – and in costume, no less! As we learn, this shot conceals as much as it reveals. For anyone who didn’t notice that one shot or even all the times he’s reflected in the cars’ rearview mirror, there’s the scene in the dressing room where the outer style of the Driver – his jacket – is complemented by his violent underside. At the first viewing, I thought that the scene was just exposition for dealing with Cook, but now I see that with the mirrors, blazing lights, and aggressive masculinity there’s more to it than just narrative. The encounter is the ultimate play of surfaces – and set with some irony in the one of the most obvious of arenas: a strip club.

As Bernie Rose notes at the garage, echoing the basic approach to authenticity that the film investigates, “That’s just a shell. The important stuff is inside.” The aesthetic style of the film is a reflection of Los Angeles itself. This is why I don’t understand the criticism of the film’s slick style. This criticism would make more sense to me if the film were set in Las Vegas, but setting the story in Los Angeles creates the perfect opportunity to make the film look as it does. On top of that artifice, it then goes all out to present the characters as not who they seem. All of the characters play on the surface. The violence beneath is the rupture that reveals the stuff inside. Brooks and Gosling are evenly matched as men who can be equally ruthless when they need to be. Sad as it is, Christina Hendricks as Blanche and Oscar Isaac as Standard have to be killed because they don’t have the foresight to duck down or the strength fight back. They’re not the only ones who didn’t get any fortune cookies. Like Shannon, they just have bad luck.

The slick style permeates the film, but the violence once it has transpired casts an ironic pallor on this aesthetic. Remember that the more vivid examples of violence take place in close temporal proximity. The violence only feels extreme because it’s concentrated in one close segment of the film. That burst more or less cracks the shiny, colorful façade. I wasn’t happy to see Blanche’s head blasted, but it surely demonstrates that the film is not fucking around anymore. Standard is made the first disturbing example of this, but Blanche is the full detonation of audience equilibrium – especially in the aftermath of the car chase when one would supposedly get to regain one’s bearings. After the motel scene, there is no turning back. The blood on the surface of the Driver’s face augers more action yet to come. A later scene is even more devastating. For me, the elevator scene functions to provide the ultimate revelation to Irene. It only feels unnecessary to those not looking because we know what’s inside Driver. However, Irene does not have this information so this scene is given to her. Why are we given the shot of the pulped head? It functions as the logical consequence of the earlier threat with the hammer. Would he really do it and attack Cook in the face? It certainly felt as if he would right there in that dressing room. But would he really go that far? He didn’t in that instance; he did in the instance of the elevator scene, though. We are now aware of how far Driver would go. The look of utter horror on Irene’s face is a result not solely of the violent act she has witnessed. It is also a result of the romantic act in which she was part(icipant). The elevator scene is the movie in a nutshell as well as a clear demonstration of the Driver’s two sides. Personally, I don’t see either as his authentic self. The man alone working on or driving in cars seems to be his true self. This is the man more or less in isolation/opposition to society. It’s the comfortable mask he wears. The film clearly displays these three aspects of the Driver – and of each character. Rose gets a beautiful scene of his own as he is shown sitting down with a drink yet clearly horrified by what he did to Shannon. Again, the man more or less in isolation/opposition to the real demands of the world he is in. It’s his burden and he’s aware of it.

This use of masks or surfaces is given its fullest (and literal) expression when the Driver takes the latex one from the set and stalks Nino with it. He has now collapsed all boundaries between his differing selves: man, stuntman, and repairman. (I’d even say that he takes the latex mask as a new way to hide himself after the brutal reveal to Irene.) At this point, he has nothing to lose but himself – hence the encounter with Brooks that we know Driver should avoid. His future now changed, he has to put it behind himself – lose one part to gain another – and move on. To help the one person he most wants, he has had to sacrifice many others – even himself in large part – and give up any future with Irene. That the film does all of this so adeptly and emotionally is to me testament of the film’s beauty, power, and seriousness. All by way of surfaces, appearances, and masks in Los Angeles.

[dad1153]

For me, the elevator scene functions to provide the ultimate revelation to Irene. It only feels unnecessary to those not looking because we know what’s inside Driver. However, Irene does not have this information so this scene is given to her. Why are we given the shot of the pulped head? It functions as the logical consequence of the earlier threat with the hammer. Would he really do it and attack Cook in the face? It certainly felt as if he would right there in that dressing room. But would he really go that far? He didn’t in that instance; he did in the instance of the elevator scene, though. We are now aware of how far Driver would go. The look of utter horror on Irene’s face is a result not solely of the violent act she has witnessed. It is also a result of the romantic act in which she was part(icipant). The elevator scene is the movie in a nutshell as well as a clear demonstration of the Driver’s two sides.

Agree that his is THE scene of the movie, but for me what gives it power and poignancy is the kiss that Driver plants on Irene before he does this brutal thing. It's Driver's last chance (a fleeting moment, which the slow motion makes seem like an eternity but in real-time must have been 4-6 seconds tops) to connect and be as close, physically and emotionally, as he will ever be to Irene (who reciprocates and appears for those blissful seconds to bond with Driver) before the circumstance of his life choices force him to reveal his true, ugly violent self to Irene not for show but out of necessity (either the other guy dies or he and Irene will be killed by him). The kiss is Driver's return sign of affection to Irene's putting of her hand on his while they were driving before Standard was released from prison. In other movies Driver would try to explain to her who this guy he just killed is, that they're responsible for Standard's death and that he's only trying to protect himself and save her and the kid... but "Drive" isn't those movies. It's its own beast, and in it unnecessary words and exposition aren't necessary. He kisses her, he reveals his true self to Irene and then the door (real and metaphysical) is shut permanently between these two people's wildly different lives.

Personally, I don’t see either as his authentic self. The man alone working on or driving in cars seems to be his true self. This is the man more or less in isolation/opposition to society. It’s the comfortable mask he wears. The film clearly displays these three aspects of the Driver – and of each character. Rose gets a beautiful scene of his own as he is shown sitting down with a drink yet clearly horrified by what he did to Shannon. Again, the man more or less in isolation/opposition to the real demands of the world he is in. It’s his burden and he’s aware of it.

Wonder if Refn drew inspiration from Hellman's "Two Lane Blacktop" for more than just the gimmick of having a no-name character identified just by his profession. Driver and Mechanic from "TLB" and Goslyn's Driver are cut from the same cloth of singular, tunnel vision lifestyle revolving around a vehicle from which they derive everything (income, transportation, a sense of purpose, identity, self-worth?, etc.) almost at the expense of their humanity, which a woman (and the temptation to establish a more human relationship with her than just sex, a spiritual-masquarading-as-family bond) threatens to change but ultimately falls by the wayside of 'the life' these loners can't seem to (or want to) shake off. Not that they'd ever want to, based on how both "Drive" and "Two Lane Blacktop" end with driving into eternity (endless highway at night with radio blasting for Refn's flick, a film-burning burst of self-consuming energy for Hellman's movie) as the ultimate and unchanged path that these vehicle-dependent characters can keep going to wherever it is life is taking them.

Guess I'm going to have to buy "Drive" on Blu-ray, aren't I? :)

[mfunk9786]

Woman files lawsuit over 'misleading' trailer for Drive

](*,)

[domino harvey]

For those of you struggling with your latent attraction to Gosling, this won't help

[Yojimbo]

Saw "Drive" last weekend. My first Refn movie. While mostly an unoriginal revenge crime noir (shades of Alain Delon's character in "Le Samouraï" plus "The Stunt Man" and every Walter Hill and Michael Mann 80's movie ever made) "Drive" embraces its derivative pieces and assembles them into an arthouse-meets-mainstream mesh that won't please everybody (my midnight theater crowd got restless with the pace of conversation scenes and outright hostile/incredulous at the gore/violence) that feels solid and confident throughout. Ryan Gosling gives so much of his character away by doing so little (especially movement) it's remarkable; the Driver's Kubriesque manners are a perfect 'ying' to the camera-mugging supporting peformance 'yangs' from Brooks (cast against type), Perlman (dependably sleazy), Bryan Cranston (who, like Jon Hamm, is big on TV but works best on the big screen in supporting work) and Carey Mulligan (who looks an awful lot like Larisa Oleynik). Like a time warp back to the 80's (pink font titles, Kavinsky's 'Nightcall' in the background, etc.) the elevator scene where Driver and Irene connect right before he's forced to violently reveal his true self is a self-contained world onto itself, one of many in perpetual orbit in "Drive's" cinematic galaxy of never-ending homages.

wonderfully succinct and referential review, Dad!
How many stars out of five?

[mfunk9786]

Bryan Cranston and Jon Hamm work best on the big screen in supporting work? :-k

I think you're thinking of someone who is not those two people.

[flyonthewall2983]

Little ironies. I was listening to Cranston on Marc Maron's podcast the other day and talked about how he first worked with the creator of Breaking Bad on an episode of The X-Files, called "Drive".

And I have to admit I've never watched a single episode of Mad Men but I was very impressed with Hamm in The Town.

[domino harvey]

Little ironies. I was listening to Cranston on Marc Maron's podcast the other day and talked about how he first worked with the creator of Breaking Bad on an episode of The X-Files, called "Drive".

Spoiler

And it too features a head exploding!