Danish director Nicolas Winding Refn’s thrill ride, Drive, is designed to flood its viewers with a surge of emotions—a daring rip current, pulsating in ears and pounding in chests. Ryan Gosling’s unnamed lead character, a part-time Hollywood stunt driver, part-time mechanic, is chock full of sideward glances and sly innuendos as he moonlights as a getaway driver for hire whose heart strings are tugged by a fair-skinned single mother, Irene (Carey Mulligan).
Dialogue takes a back seat in Refn’s film, based on James Sallis’ pulp novel of the same name, defying many stereotypical Hollywood rules, exploiting instead the unnerving sound of ticking wristwatches, campy pop music, and heart-thumping bass, and utilizing Gosling’s enigmatic stares and powerful, hard looks as communication and audience insight into the slow revelation of his dark persona.
Cannes-winning director Refn’s previous filmmography (Valhalla Rising, Bronson) showcases his fantastic use of color and over-the-top-to-the-point-of-comical gruesomeness. “Those three films,” he says, “are transformations; the same theme. Bronson ends with a man in a cage and Valhalla starts with a man in a cage. Drive ends with a man as a superhero, he becomes his own mythology, so there are certain similarities between those three characters. I am always drawn to the antihero by nature.” The standard antihero no longer, Refn nixes his common character base to deliver an, at first glance, sensitive male—cool, calm and collected, chomping aimlessly on a toothpick with an unfurrowed brow and silent as Steve McQueen. In his first big Hollywood film, Refn crafts a meticulously edited, Los Angeles explored, action noir with sharp colors, exhilarating chase scenes, and Tarantino-esque bloodbaths. The pink titles and subtleties create a soft vibe during the opening sequence, calming nerves after the high-stakes first scene and preparing viewers for the short-lived sensitivity of Gosling’s Driver.