UTTERMEDIA

What begins as a smooth, serene window into the seemingly comfortable life of “Driver” ascends ultra-violently into a colourful juggernaut of hard crime and effortless cool.

The main character, only referenced to by his profession, seems nonchalantly blasé about his work, his home and those around him. Initially, the only thing he has any essence of connectivity with is his vehicle. His drawn-out silences and wry smiles offer little insight into his past. His willingness to immerse himself in his love-interest’s hazardous situation offers some insight into what may or may not happen.

The Driver’s violence appears in short, horrific bursts. His driving calm and collected, whilst the city buzzes and glows around him and his passengers.

It’s not long until the nostalgically eighties score and Michael Mann-eque art-heavy shots fade away, to reveal the brooding underbelly of cowards and crooks – thrust upon you in a jack-in-the-box of blood, petrol and pace.

The characters you find yourself warming to are quickly excused and Driver, although showing occasional flurries of raw emotion, keeps his undisturbed exterior and retains a Steve McQueen semblance.

With the vivid night-time splendour of Collateral, and the audacious seedy law-free brashness of Narc, Drive is a supercharger for the soul. What could have been a car chase movie with tits and cash is beautifully crafted into a hommage to everything that you enjoy about a left-field action thriller with a truly stimulating pastiche of love and passion.