'Drive My Car (2021)' is a film about an ex-actor who is directing a multilingual play that brings back painful memories. The film's plot summary actually spoils something which happens about forty minutes into the three-hour affair and I find it kind of hard to talk about the narrative without doing the same. This element is vital to the set-up of the story, so it isn't too detrimental if you're aware of it going in. However, if you don't know (and don't want to know) anything about the picture, I suggest you stop reading here and go watch it first. Around the forty minute mark, our protagonist comes home to find his wife dead. The story then picks up two years later as he grapples with his loss while putting on the same play he was starring in at the time of the tragedy. In any other movie (and even the source material), the forty-minute pre-title sequence would've been omitted, either excised entirely or interspersed throughout the rest of the runtime as flashbacks. This would have preserved some of the narrative's now-lost enigmatic nature, making for a movie in which we find ourselves aligned with the people the protagonist decides to open up to (we would learn his past whenever he decides to reveal it to his companions). While it perhaps feels counterintuitive to have the protagonist reiterate rather than reveal, it's actually a rather deft move that ensures that we're always in the shoes of the reserved lead character (who's in pretty much every scene). It isn't always what he says that's important (to an extent), it's who he says it to and, even, the very fact that he decides to say it at all. Besides, the movie has several genuine surprises - most of which come from supporting characters, further placing us in the same headspace as the protagonist - and an emotional payoff that relies on a couple of key bits of previously internal information being made explicitly external in an effort to achieve catharsis. Having an extended prologue also gives the audience time to get to grips with the somewhat unconventional relationship between the protagonist and his wife. It makes her an actual character, too, and gives us tangible memories to go along with the various mentions she receives throughout the rest of the piece. As we get closer to the climax, we get further from her presence; our experience of remembering her mirrors that of the protagonist, albeit over two hours instead of two years. The opening movement is essential in establishing this subtle but significant difference between this picture and most others that deal with similar themes of loss, grief, guilt and catharsis. Another major theme of the movie is communication. The play that the lead is directing is comprised of actors who each use a different language, leading to several sequences that are dedicated to conversations which require translation (some of which provide a welcome showcase for sign language). This acts as a counterpoint to the flick's exploration of the lack of communication between people who speak the same language. This absence is evident almost from the start of the feature, and its importance becomes abundantly clear by the movie's end. Our protagonist typically keeps to himself, as does his quietly confident driver. Yet, their relationship slowly evolves into one that's as honest and complete as it can possibly be, filled with genuine trust and affection yet filtered through a constantly reserved lens. It's the sort of relationship in which silence is never awkward. It takes time for it to evolve into what it ultimately becomes, though, and that's arguably why it is so compelling. Things perhaps become ever-so-slightly too overt towards the finale, but the movie remains realistic and authentic right to the end. Its emotional climax is surprisingly affecting, and there's something quietly engrossing about the entire affair. It is undeniably long, yet it never feels especially indulgent or drawn-out. Though the story it is based on is only about 40 pages long, it doesn't feel artificially padded at all. Granted, its emotional punch could still have been achieved with a lower runtime, but it isn't always about the destination. In fact, the whole film resembles the sort of slow, steady yet relaxing drive that the protagonist values so much. It's about existing in the space between destinations, valuing the time it takes to get from A to B. At one point, a character says that the protagonist and his wife both respect the details of the stories they're involved in. This, in a sense, is a meta commentary about the movie as a whole. It's a film full of nuances and subtleties, both in terms of its compelling writing and its second-to-none performances. It strikes a balance between the overt and the enigmatic, with some of its elements never being made explicit (how some of its verbal stories relate to the plot, if at all, is up to you). Even those elements that are definitive require your absolute attention to fully appreciate. It's a really rewarding experience, even though it does require a bit of patience and can initially seem daunting due to its length. To be honest, it really doesn't feel as long as it is. It doesn't move quickly, but it moves confidently and with purpose. It's an affecting and oddly calming experience that rarely puts a foot wrong. 7/10.
Review of Drive My Car
