Drive or: The Scorpion and the Frog, Nature, and Beautiful Violent Artistry (Film Analysis)

One day, a scorpion looked around at the mountain where he lived and decided that he wanted a change. So, he set out on a journey until he reached a river.  The scorpion saw a frog sitting and decided to ask it for help getting across the stream.

"Hellooo Mr. Frog!" called the scorpion, "Would you be so kind as to give me a ride on your back across the river?"

"Well now, Mr. Scorpion! How do I know that if I try to help you, you won’t try to kill me?" asked the frog hesitantly.

"Because," the scorpion replied, "If I try to kill you, then I would die too, for you see I cannot swim!"

Now this seemed to make sense to the frog, so it agreed to take the scorpion across the river. Halfway across the river, the frog suddenly felt a sharp sting in his back and, out of the corner of his eye, saw the scorpion remove his stinger from the frog's back. A deadening numbness began to creep into his limbs.

"You fool!" croaked the frog, "Now we shall both die! Why on earth did you do that?"

The scorpion shrugged, "I could not help myself. It is my nature."

—The Scorpion and the Frog

I am not the best judge of character when it comes to trailers, but I doubt many would blame me for being disinterested in Drive’s movie trailer.  Drive is notorious for its trailer completely misrepresenting the final product.  The trailer presents the film as a fast-paced, action driver—offering popcorn thrills alongside a predictably generic plot.  Can you imagine the casual movie-goers's surprise when Drive turned out to be none of these aspects?

Throughout its one hour and forty-minute runtime, Drive has a grand total of two car chases/heists—one in the opening scene and one around fifty minutes in.  There are no fight scenes until over halfway through the runtime, with a focus on swift, stylized brutality over lengthy fight choreography.  Above all else, however, Drive is far from your generic plot—breaking from convention to tell a story that while easy to follow, loves dabbling in the experimental and avant-garde.  These unexpected aspects did not fare well with the casual audiences, with the film earning a “C-“ on CinemaScore.  To put such rating into perspective, 2016’s Justice League—regarded by many as one of the worst superhero films ever made—has a “B+” on the site.

Yet not everyone disliked Drive.  Critics were the first to spring to the film’s defense, praising its direction, cinematography, acting, and soundtrack among other features.  There became a divide between viewers over whether Drive was pretentious indie bull$%!t or a great piece of stylized cinema.  A friend’s recommendation drove me to see the film while in theaters.  These were the early years of my growing enthusiasm for film, and, at the time, had begun diving into more experimental filmography such as the works of Federico Fellini (Drive actually uses a song by Italian singer Katyna Ranieri, who had previously collaborated with Fellini).  As such, Drive’s less conventional approach did not put me off (it was certainly a lot easier to follow than 8 ½)—if anything, it was the film’s unorthodox storytelling, characterization, action, and usage of sound that made it stand out and leave a lasting impression all these years later.  Revisiting Drive, I found myself once again completely immersed in its mesmerizing spectacle.  Yet while the film’s artistic flair and potent acting are compelling surface aspects, it’s the underlying examination of nature and one’s inability to break from it—regardless of its self-destructive traits and/or benefits from changing—alongside some standout characterization that truly elevates Drive into a great piece of cinema.

Drive starts off straightforward enough.  A nameless driver (Ryan Gosling) gives strict, detailed instructions to an unseen client about a job.  The scene quickly establishes the nameless driver is serious, professional, and most likely good at his job.  The driver heads to an auto shop where the owner, a man with a limp named Shannon (Bryan Cranston), provides him with a Chevy Impala—“the most popular car in the state of California”—that’s been tinkered with to have three-hundred horsepower.  The driver proceeds to the discussed destination, where he waits for his clients to finish their job—aka, an armed burglary.  It’s here where Drive begins to feel off compared to a typical getaway scene.  The soundtrack is notably subdued, using barely audible electronic beats that get drowned out once the car’s motor starts roaring.  There is no dialogue from the driver or clients once they begin driving—the only verbal speech coming from the driver’s police scanner used to listen in on the cops trying to locate them, and the radio playing a local baseball game.

Don’t be mistaken, however, as such distinct storytelling methods only serve to intensify the engaging situation.  The scene is downright thrilling as the electronic beats seem to mimic its characters heartbeats throughout the tense situation—the complete lack of dialogue from its focused characters amplifying the feeling.  The scene both literally and figuratively switches gears, however, whenever the police spot the driver.  What’s great is how the police scanner is always one step ahead of the actual action, preparing the audience like an ascending rollercoaster for what’s about to come.  The driver effectively escapes each obstacle with key precision and skill, even using the broadcasted baseball game—which at first seems like a personal quirk of his—to make a timed, clever escape completely unnoticed.  Yet despite how much the intro seems to establish what Drive will be about, in actuality, its elements only play a small part in the film’s overall focus—acting more as a red herring, like several other plot points down the line, for the film’s underlying theme.

After this stunning display of intensity, Drive cuts to its opening credits that is arguably as good if not better than the former getaway scene.  The opening credits are drenched with atmosphere as the driver drives through a scenic city landscape at night before arriving back at his home now wearing a jacket with a golden scorpion logo.  There’s so much to love about this sequence—the usage of shadows moving across the driver, the stylized purple credit font, the music, oh the music!  Drive uses a variety of electronic (among a few other genres) soundtrack pieces to ideally set its mood.  The song used for the opening credits is Kavinsky by Nightcall, and it perfectly complements the scenic imagery.  Yet if one pays attention to the song’s lyrics, they actually serve an additional purpose storytelling wise:

There's something inside you. It's hard to explain. They're talking about you, boy. But you're still the same.

The lyrics hint towards the driver being more complex than he initially comes across, having a reputation, and remaining the same as his past self.  The getaway sequence and opening credits are a fantastic introductory setup of captivating sound and imagery that draws me right into the story.  

Drive’s mysterious nameless driver is far from an entirely original character—taking inspiration from multiple past archetypes, most notably 1978’s The Driver which also features a nameless protagonist driver associated with crime.  The driver in Drive is not a 1:1 copycat of past characters, however, as he distinguishes himself with a mixture of unique traits.  The audience is never told the driver’s backstory, where he’s from, or his past before the film’s events.  This is made all the more notable with multiple characters giving their and/or others’s backstories throughout, occasionally in a borderline artificial manner (the latter I find to be done purposefully to emphasize the driver’s enigmatic past).  The most the audience learn about the driver is from Shannon, who the driver works for part-time at the auto shop and as a stunt double driver.  Yet Shannon only details how he met the driver, not where the driver came from or who he was before.

MAJOR SPOILERS FROM THIS POINT ONWARD: 

The driver is a largely stone-faced character.  He says and emotes very little.  There’s only one scene where he has an emotional outburst, for the most part remaining calm and collected regardless of whether he’s happy, sad, and/or angry.  The driver does slowly yet surely begin to open up, however, when interacting with his neighbor Irene (Carey Mulligan) and her son Benicio (Kaden Leos).  At first, the driver acts his usual indifferent self to Irene, but this changes when, after a noticeably long pause, he goes to help when she’s experiencing car troubles at the grocery store.  Despite not knowing his past, I get the feeling this is a big moment for the driver—a venture outside his comfortable routine, the irony being its mundanity compared to his dangerous lifestyle.  It’s here the audience see the driver smile for the first time and have a meaningful interaction with Irene, though he is somewhat awkward and stiff in conversation.  When asking about a picture of Benicio’s father Standard (Oscar Issac), Irene tells him her husband is in prison.  The driver replies with an emotionless “Oh.”, the face of someone unfazed and/or unsure how to appropriately respond to such.

To contrast the awkward, stone-faced driver, is the convivial, talkative Shannon.  I first saw Drive before I began watching Breaking Bad, so this was my first-time seeing Bryan Cranston perform outside of comedies like Seinfeld or Malcolm in the Middle (excluding Saving Private Ryan, which I had then completely forgotten he was in), and it really made an impression on me (unlike his role in Saving Private Ryan apparently).  While Cranston still has a goofy charm here, it was remarkable seeing a comedy actor work so effectively and emotionally in such a dark story.  Shannon is the Red Oni to the driver’s Blue.  When first meeting Irene he displays an open, friendly, and warm personality—lightheartedly teasing her and the driver’s clear chemistry and letting him leave early to drive her and Benicio home.  Shannon’s open persona is genuine, as is his affection for the driver that has an almost mentor/fatherly feel.

Shannon, however, is also a greedy individual—a trait that has gotten him in trouble with the mob before, resulting in his limb leg.  Despite his auto shop, current stable relationship with the mob, and profit cut from the driver’s illegal activities, Shannon still desires more riches.  The man is constantly scheming ways to get richer.  When the driver unintentionally ends up with a million of the mob’s dollars, Shannon gives some not-so-subtle remarks about keeping the money safe for the driver and what “they” could do with it despite the obvious dangers it brings.  Shannon is a slave to his own greedy nature, blinding him from the content life he already has, and ultimately leading to his own downfall in one of the film’s most memorable scenes.

Over time, the driver becomes more vocal and relaxed with Irene and Benicio—sporting a big smile when they come to visit him at work.  It’s the relationship between these three that provides Drive with a heart, and it needs one because the story is fairly grim and bleak behind its lovely cinematography.  If done correctly by utilizing all its tools, a film can properly establish a potent relationship in a single segment.  Drive has such segment with its Real Human montage.  Here, the driver takes Irene and Benicio on a leisure cruise down a river basin, hanging out by a river throwing stones and finding crawfish limbs.  The scene ends with the driver carrying a sleeping Benicio to his apartment while Irene affectionately looks on.  Before it became an internet meme, A Real Hero by College & Electric Youth was first used in Drive during this montage.  The song effectively sets the scene’s mood and, just like Nightcall, serves a purpose storywise.

The driver shows no pleasure, excitement, or happiness for his current lifestyle.  It’s not until he meets and interacts with Irene and Benicio that any visible emotions surface.  What’s inferred here is the driver’s desire to break away from his bleak lifestyle and become a family man.   A Real Hero reinforces such speculation, with the chorus lines “A real human being.  And, a real hero” frequently repeating throughout the montage.  The scene gives off a hopeful tone that the driver can break away from a life of crime and live a normal, happy life as someone Irene and Benicio can look up to.

Alas, Drive’s story is not about finding happiness, it’s about nature.  The driver wears a scorpion jacket for a reason—he is dangerous and deadly when provoked.  The audience is clued in to such nature when a former client tries talking to the driver, only for him to threaten smashing the former client’s teeth in if he does not go away.  The driver does not think like a family man, he thinks like a criminal.  When the reformed Standard refuses to do a burglary job for people he owes protection to, they brutally beat him and threaten Benicio.  Standard, like the driver, is trying to leave crime to be a family man for Irene and Benicio but finds it’s not so easy to escape.  The driver decides to help Standard (for Irene and Benicio’s safety) yet does so by helping him rob the store.  The driver falls back on what he knows best over more legal ways of assistance or protection, and it ultimately costs Standard his life.

The mob is a central player in Drive’s tragedies, including their own.  The two noteworthy mobsters are Bernie (Albert Brooks) and Nino (Ron Perlman), and while Perlman’s performance is solid, I’m going to be focusing primarily on Bernie as he far better encompasses the film’s theme and more interesting personas.  Bernie is a fascinating character, my favorite in the film.  It’s Shannon who convinces Bernie to fund the driver as a professional racer—the former convinced (and rightfully so) that’s he’ll win big dollars for both of them.  Bernie is apprehensive at first, but after meeting the driver has a change of heart.  When introduced, Bernie extends his hand out to shake; the driver, in his typical abrasive, awkward self, doesn’t extend his, stating his hands are a little dirty.  Bernie continues to firmly hold out his hand, replying “So are mine.” (the shoddy trailer manages to ruin the moment by cutting out the necessary intermediate pause).

Bernie is genuinely excited by such an entrepreneur business, and it isn’t the first time he’s done something similar.  He tells the driver how, back in the day, he produced sexy action films (though he thought they were $%!t) and for the driver to come to him for anything.  Bernie’s wording and inflection give off mixed vibes between genuine excitement and hospitality towards the driver, and an underlining threatening menace for what will happen to Shannon if he screws up.

Bernie displays many unique qualities that distinguish him from the typical mobster antagonist.  One of Drive’s most memorable scenes involves very little style and pizazz—instead being a relatively straightforward conversation between Bernie and Shannon.  It’s the actors’s impressive performances combined with their interesting characters that made the scene stay strong in my memory over half a decade later.  The scene is downright fascinating to watch.  Bernie shows up to kill Shannon due to the driver’s interference with his and Nino’s business.  Bernie talks to Shannon like an old friend, expressing in a bittersweet tone how excited he was about the racer gig; “My name on a car!...I think we would have made a go at this business”.  Shannon knows what’s about to happen, yet dejectedly accepts his fate—going to shake Bernie’s outstretched hand (Bernie had previously refused to shake Shannon’s earlier) as the latter grips tight, pulls out a knife, and deeply slits Shannon’s arm.

The way Bernie comforts Shannon is what truly remained ingrained in my head for all these years; “Don’t worry, don’t worry. That’s it! It’s done. There’s no pain, it’s over. It’s over.”  He acts like a man putting a dog he cares about to sleep.  The audience then sees Bernie washing his knife at home, placing it back within a unique box containing other knives and weapons, and sitting down with a drink and a look of contemplating regret.  Shannon’s death scene is in direct contrast to Bernie’s previous murder of an incompetent goon.  The former is done with tact, painless and utilizes a specially-crafted weapon, while the latter is savage, incredibly painful (Bernie lodges a fork right in the goon’s eye and stabs his throat three times with a knife), and utilizes common kitchen utensils.

From the evidence, one can infer Bernie didn’t want to kill Shannon, and most likely doesn’t want to kill the driver either.  He likes the pair, unlike his partner Nino who he refers to a belligerent asshole.  He’s dissatisfied with his mobster lifestyle and was looking forward to the racing sponsor—a job that doesn’t require violence and crime to make money.  Despite his justification of having his back against the wall, Bernie doesn’t have to kill Shannon and the driver.  He could kill Nino, fix the money issues (give/pay more to those who pose a threat since he’s incredibly rich). and move on to work with Shannon and the driver in the refreshing, exciting world of racing.  And yet he’s too wrapped up in such a lifestyle to change ways, even though he wants too, even though it would make him happier.  You can’t teach an old dog new tricks, and Bernie can’t help but stab the frog taking him across to his new home—which similar to Shannon, will ultimately cost him his life.

Drive is a soft film that revels in the pornographic.  Not purely pornography of the sex variant—though there is blatant nudity the film longs on extendedly—but gratuity of multiple variants from stylistic art choices, over-the-top violence, and even over-the-top violence alongside blatant nudity.  Drive is dedicated to Chilean director Alejandro Jodorowsky, known for his usage of violent surreal imagery, and the film certainly lives up to its specific dedication.  Can it be too much at times?  Yes, but the film makes up for it with some memorable pieces.

There’s a scene where the driver and Irene are in an elevator with a man—yet to reveal his true colors—sent to kill the driver.  There is a tense moment between them before the lights suddenly dim and time seems to freeze as the driver turns to Irene and pulls her into a passionate kiss.  The scene at first appears to be a dream-like sequence imagined by the driver and/or Irene, yet unexpectedly continues with the driver moving from the kissing spot to the assassin’s back—who has apparently been waiting patiently for the moment to pass—beating the man down before crushing his head into mush with his foot.  The driver protects Irene like a hero but does so in an incredibly brutal, shocking fashion.

To protect Irene and Benicio, the driver dons a stunt double mask and hunts down Nino in his car.  The pursue is an eerie and disturbing sequence as the masked driver repeatedly bashes Nino’s car off a small beach cliff before slowly walking towards the injured man—drowning him in the shallow ocean waters.  The scene is undeniably reminiscent of Halloween, with the driver’s emotionless mask, slow and brutal killing of Nino, and hauntingly beautiful cinematography where a lighthouse flashes across the night beach.  It’s directly after that the driver actually mentions The Scorpion and the Frog—the frog being Nino who drowns due to the scorpion (yet unlike the fable, the frog here was far from nice).

With all other players dead, Bernie calls for a direct confrontation between him and the driver.  They meet at a restaurant, where Bernie once again shows unusual mobster characteristics—blatantly stating he guarantees Irene’s safety if the money’s returned but can’t do the same for the driver’s life.  Keeping to his statement, Bernie immediately stabs the driver once the money is in sight—the driver responding with a stab right back, killing Bernie and finally ending the violent conflict.  It’s a tragic story for these characters, yet not all is bleak for the driver as he does ultimately save Irene and Benicio in the end.  The driver may have not gotten his happy ending, but Irene and Benicio (in his mind) do, and that’s good enough for him.

The film ends with A Real Hero playing once more as the wounded driver drives away.  The driver ultimately couldn’t break away from his violent scorpion nature, and in confronting the mob may possibly die from blood loss.  Yet rather than suicide in the fable, the driver’s possible death is from sacrificing his own wellbeing to help others.  The driver ultimately succeeds at being a hero—albeit an unorthodox one—for Irene and Benicio in a different manner.  It’s a moment of self-redemption for the driver, ending the film on a bittersweet note.  The theme of nature is the meat to Drive’s story—packed subtly underneath its external beautiful cinematography, mesmerizing, purposeful soundtrack, solid acting, distinct characterization, and experimental storytelling methods.  The theme gives a purpose to what’s seen onscreen beyond the purely artistic—dispelling arguments towards the film being indie bull$%!t.  Drive doesn’t just hold up all these years later, it surpasses my previous sentiments as an all around great piece of cinema.