Grips with both hands on the wheel
Drive confidently swerves around pigeonholes. Pink scripted credits, seemingly plucked from an 80s billboard, burn over opening shots of the LA skyline, right before plunging into a tense getaway that would make Michael Mann grin from ear to ear. The protagonist — whose proper name is never revealed throughout the entire flick — barely speaks and enjoys donning a disco-inspired scorpion jacket while brutally dispatching anyone (Sopranos-style) who stands in his way. Even the ruthlessly pragmatic mob boss, Bernie Rose, is masterfully played by famed comedian, Albert Brookes.
None of these elements make a lick of sense in a typical crime-thriller, but director Nicolas Winding Refn confidently pours it all into his own batch of über-cool concentrate, backed by an electrified pop soundtrack that any card-holding hipster has had on repeat since seeing it in theaters. It deserved more than just cult status supremacy in our books, but a royal snubbing by the Academy officially certified it’s fate. Here’s hoping that, like Tu Pac, Drive gains more fans in death than it ever had in life.
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