When the first gunshot sounded, the audience realized that Drive, directed by Nicholas Winding Refn, wasn’t what anyone thought it would be. For some, that was cue to get up and leave; for others, it meant walking out of the theater with a load of insults. What did they see that 92% percent of Rotten Tomatoes critics didn’t see? That I didn’t see? Because what I saw was a film of unique and tender beauty, one that pushed the limits of what we expect from so-called “action” films. My heart breaks for those audience members who couldn’t see what I could, and as a result, hated a movie that everyone should love.

Drive is a classic ‘80s throwback, reminiscent of exploitation films like Roadhouse, but updated to give it a modern and more honest feel. Danish director Refn is an obvious appreciator of the ‘80s aesthetic, his previous films, such as Pusher and Bronson, featured soundtracks full of ‘80s-esque pop songs, a tradition he carried on in Drive. Though that might seem unusual, along with his choice to use a neon pink font for the opening credits, it only adds to the depth and charm of the film.

The credit for the success of Drive really has to go to the spectacular casting by Refn. He selected certain actors who are, at a glance, completely wrong for this film. Albert Brooks playing a Mafioso? What? But there is something so organic about every performance that you don’t really remember what makes each actor wrong for the film, but only what makes them so utterly and completely perfect for their roles.

For many, in fact, the biggest shock comes with the casting of Christina Hendricks, who is known pretty much exclusively these days for her role as Joan Holloway on Mad Men, as the trashy, low level thief, Blanche. But for those audience members like myself who fondly remember her days as the psychopathic Saffron from Firefly, it’s a welcome reminiscence as she once again begs for her life, and this time doesn’t receive mercy.

But the center of this film is clearly the powerful, stoic, stuntman/getaway driver played by Ryan Gosling. A man who is more comfortable in silence, and never loses his cool. With a little more than a page of actual dialogue, Gosling creates a character full of nuances, who can convey love or hatred with the same steely look. The relationship between Driver and his lovely, broken neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan), frustrated many of the people I saw the film with, who claimed that they would never be attracted to a guy who just stared at them. But the beauty of the relationship between Driver and Irene was that they never needed to speak; when they did it was awkward and uncomfortable, but when they were silent the discomfort evaporated.

I’m not going to spoil the shock and awe of the final hour of the film, except to talk about the revelation of who Gosling’s character could be when viewing his capabilities for violence. I can’t say I wasn’t surprised by the change in his character, it was obvious from the beginning that he used his side work as a getaway driver as an outlet for a powerful primal urge. It was the way he handled himself and the people around him when he finally let go, that made it impossible to forget his character, the most spectacularly beautiful of which is his first and final kiss with Irene, right before he kicks a guy’s face in.

The unexpected violence of Refn’s work is a testament to his talent as a director, because it was actually, truly unexpected. I really believe that is why so many people hated it, because it was not what they thought was going to happen at all. Refn is a director that controls every aspect of his film, every scene has purpose and every word (of the few spoken) has meaning. As a stranger to his work before this film, I immediately wanted to see everything he’s ever made. That is not only the mark of a great director, but of a great film.

Refn made a soft spoken boy in a nylon jacket a hero. And while earlier I compared Drive to Roadhouse in style, it was only to point out the contrast between this film and the lunacy of ‘80s exploitation. So while we are able to laugh at Patrick Swayze’s unbridled rage, we can only watch in silence as Driver unleashes the violence that simmered beneath his heartbreaking calm. This is not an exploitation flick, this is a study of how those films broke character and turned it into caricature, and subsequently refutes the idea that a silent, man-with-no-name type character can’t have dimension, but can speak volumes with his silences. Drive changed what an action film can be, and that is due not only to the skills of Refn and Gosling, but to the entire cast, who made what could have been a completely ridiculous film heart-wrenchingly real.

7/7