An Incredible Exercise in Style and Nuanced Storytelling

Rating: 10/10 (17 September 2011)

Going into the theater I knew I was in for a treat. The little bits and pieces I'd seen of the film were clearly from the brush of a highly stylized, truly eccentric filmmaker with much to offer. And it looked beautiful - the lighting, the LA scenery, the poetic stillness. Needless to say, me and my crew walked into the theater for the first screening of the day, ready for something big, fingers crossed and hopes high. One hundred minutes later we celebrated the Christmas feast we'd just taken in, Refn and Gosling's brilliance clogging the holes of our soul. We'd seen a masterpiece - a film that certainly nods here and there (John Hughes, Heat, A History of Violence), but was also wholly original and stuffed full of style and understated grace. A story told in an inventive manner, not unlike Quentin Tarantino's Reservoir Dogs over 10 years ago.
Rather than discuss the many turns and layers of Refn's crime drama, I'd like to talk about the style of the film and, eventually, the crafty storytelling textures that most likely won't pick up on. First, the brilliant style of the film
As the film's action segments play out, we see the Driver turn from a handsome shadow into a blood-soaked scorpion, striking quickly and confidently at all the right moments, taking down the danger in his way without losing his breath. He moves from person to person, conflict to conflict, each scene lit, framed and composed in a beautiful, poetic manner. The technique in this film is the stuff of legends, Refn and his crew's work standing high above that of the average modern film. If nothing else, the movie is a clinic in lighting, editing and sound design (much of the Driver's emotion is told through the cracking sound of his leather gloves - no joke). We see blood and love and cars. Villains and heroes and victims - and it's all beautifully composed. Mostly, we see Gosling's Driver, an unmarked loner who reminds a bit of the George Clooney character in last year's great The American. We see him fall in love and take care of business.
But here's where things get interesting: after the film a friend suggested a new layer. As the story plays we're led to believe that, on the surface at least, the Driver is a normal guy put into extraordinary situations - a naturally cool, calm, collected guy seemingly capable of anything, so as long as it keeps his new love (Irene) out of harm's way. That he handles these intense situations with such grace, precision and confidence seems, again, on the surface, like a dose of Hollywood fantasy. Led by a series of clues throughout the film, my movie- going pals and I figured some things out. If you've seen the film, you'll remember the following bits of information: The Driver just showed up one day, got a job with a semi- connected garage owner, and began working for peanuts; the three additional male principals (Nino, Bernie and Shannon) all share an organized crime-infused history that we're told links back to a Jersey crime family; the Driver leaves the catalyst for the tension in the film (a bag full of unmarked bills) behind with the final bloody body that stood in the way of Irene and Benicio's safety. Those details in mind, we decided that the Driver was planted in L.A. to observe Shannon and his criminal friends - whom we learn feel unappreciated by their Jersey- based bosses. Sure, the Driver was there to put in work, too, but he was more or less a skilled spy, sent by the Jersey family. When the things get messy he acts - not as a quiet man who can drive cars, but as an instinctive and trained driver with a presumed history in the muscle game. One of the shadow men who keep things moving - a deeper variation of the Jackyl character in Tarantino's Pulp Fiction.
The final scene, featuring a silent performance by Gosling, is the cherry on top. We see the just-stabbed Driver in his car, still, not moving, covered in the blood of himself and the three men who stood in his way. We sit starring at the still screen for a 30-second stretch that feels like an eternity, wondering if our hero is dead. Then, suddenly, the Driver blinks. Then starts his car. Then drives away. Probably towards Jersey. Irene and Benicio are safe; and thus the job is done. We're left sad that the believable love-at-first-sight between Irene and the Driver didn't come to fruition, but moved by the lengths our man went to in order to assure the safety of the films only two pure and innocent characters. The quick blast of love he found flipped a switch that, as movie-goers, we hope helps our man move up, on his way towards a more emotional, connected, human existence.
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