3 1/2 out of 5 *****

Some movies open with a sequence that doesn’t only set the scene, but works as a mission statement for what is to follow. Drive begins in a hotel room, with Ryan Gosling’s voiceover in the background. It’s only as the camera pans to the left that we realise that what we are hearing is not a voiceover. Gosling is issuing instructions into a phone. He is about to embark on a job as a getaway driver for an imminent robbery. The rules are simple: You give him the location, and he’s yours for five minutes. He doesn’t get involved in the robbery. He doesn’t carry a gun, and his five minute window is non-negotiable. Anything that happens outside of those five minutes is not his concern.

Gosling’s character is nameless throughout. He’s credited as “the driver”. His boss, Shannon (Bryan Cranston), who gets him the vehicles he needs to execute his getaways calls him, “kid”. It’s clear that only Shannon has earned the right to give him a nickname. 

Director Nicolas Winding Refn builds the tension piece by piece, so Gosling’s preparation in the opening minutes is the calm before the storm. Not only is it a deliciously cool start to the story, but it is a microcosm for the rest of the film. It stands to reason that Gosling has to evade the police, and does so. But not with daredevil feats of speed, but with guile and cunning. The streets of California exist in his head like a road map. There’s not a side-street or back-alley that can escape his navigational skills.

The driver lives strictly by his self-imposed code, and is brilliant at one thing; driving. He prepares meticulously, and shows in the opening sequence that there is no getaway driver as good as he is. He works the gears, knobs and dials of a car with the precision of a watchmaker. He is inscrutable and seldom speaks. This is a character that owes much to the assassins and samurai from Japanese cinema, as well as bearing comparison to Clint Eastwood’s characters in Sergio Leone’s spaghetti westerns.

The plot only gets moving when he meets his neighbour, Irene (Carey Mulligan). Her husband is in prison, and she is left to raise her young son, Benicio, on her own. The chemistry between Irene and the driver fizzes with desire. He also takes a shine to Benicio. But any chance of him stepping into the breach as a surrogate father figure are dashed when Standard – the husband – is released from jail. While Irene lusts after the driver, she is shackled out of dutiful obligation to Standard. Mulligan does a good job here, as you can see how conflicted she feels as her desire for the driver is offset by her shame for daring to think about looking elsewhere for a lover.

The other major plot strand involves two local gangsters, Nino (Ron Perlman) and Bernie (Albert Brooks – playing very much against type). Bernie is entering into business with Shannon, setting up a race car team. Guess who they are going to hire to be their driver?

The first two-thirds of Drive are superb. The driver sets the tone with his eremitical demeanour. The movie excels in its economy of dialogue. Scenes that flesh out the characters are deliberately prolonged, having pauses where most stories would feel the need to have their cast speak. But he ends the perfunctory plot scenes once they’ve served their purpose. Again, most films would draw them out to a more predictable conclusion, but once the point has been made, Refn moves on, much like the driver.

As I said at the start, the driver has a strict code that he lives by. So it only makes narrative sense to put him in a position where he may have to break that code. The film progresses, and the veneer of mechanical exactitude slips, which was fine. However, the final 20 minutes take a exploitative turn, and while remaining entertaining, do not befit a tale such as this.

As the plot strands come together, Drive becomes violent. Very violent. While the events that happen are necessary to the story, the way they are executed was clearly a conscious choice from Refn to be visually incendiary. It seems that he much prefers violent imagery to violent symbolism.

However, these are minor quibbles to what is a fine piece of work. As always, Gosling anchors the film magnificently. He has a natural screen magnetism, and at times with his accented intonation and grubby attire, he reminded me of a specific actor; Marlon Brando. It may be hyperbolic to say so, but some actors – such as Brando or Katharine Hepburn – have “it”. I think Gosling is one such actor.

Added to this is the wonderful job Refn does of shooting Los Angeles as a city-scape. I’ve always had a theory about how no filmmaker can ever be great until they give a location a sentience all of its own. Refn dovetails nicely with his cinematographer, Newton Thomas Sigel. You will do well this year to see many films with better shot composition than Drive.

As well as looking stunning, the film has a stylised 1980s feel. The entire mis-en-scene; the music, the colour palette, even the font used in the opening & closing credits. If it weren’t for the up-to-date mobile phones used, you could easily think that this was a movie set in the 1980s. Regardless, Drive is a strong showing from all involved. If the quality of movies can remain to this standard in the closing months of 2011, maybe the cinema year won’t be such a washout after all.