BABY DRIVER

One of my favorite things about director Jim Jarmusch is that he is such a huge proponent of sourcing his films from anything - really, anything. There is a quote with the entire list of ideas, but basically he cites other auteur's films, music, poetry, art, architecture...the list goes on. The man does not believe in originality, so I don't think I'm stepping on toes here when I say inspiration from other work is not a new idea. But it's not one with enough accreditation.

In his newest film Baby Driver, writer-director Edgar Wright takes inspiration from the perfect playlist of his choosing. Instead of it being a supporting player, his soundtrack is the basis of the film. He could have used the cultural resurgence of vinyl or even mixed tapes (a la Guardians of the Galaxy). Instead, he swipes back a mere decade - or less - ago with the iPod, thus challenging the dependency on streaming services like Spotify.

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Baby Driver is something of the perfect vehicle for Wright's filmmaking techniques. By mixing up musical styles and genres and setting the action to each accordingly, he proves that he is a classicist in his inspirations, but a full-throttled progressive in his execution. Baby Driver is both cool like a 70s thriller, and alive like a modern popular track.

I mentioned previously that the story is virtually set to the music. The slight consequence in this choice is that some degree of originality is stripped. Recall Nicholas Winding Refn's Drive (2011), where the hero is soft-spoken and with one skill. He drives. He does not participate in violence (until the plot boils over, I should say). He does not associate with criminals.

In Baby Driver, the Driver's only connection to criminality is the handoff of black coffees to the other heist members. I love that Wright really works with, instead of against, this character type. The Driver is methodical, like Alain Delon's Jef Costello from Le Samourai (1967). And he is a major part of American cinema now, especially that of crime cinema. He is a design of Costello placed in the world of a Roger Corman B-movie.

The driver I speak of is called Baby (Ansel Elgort), and due to a childhood trauma he keeps his iPods (yes, plural) plugged into his ears most of the time to drown out the ringing. Also like the Driver type, he is procedural in his work. He will only begin the heist if it is perfectly synched to the song. Until then, the car is in park and no one goes anywhere. This effect drives the film musically, but also deconstructs the character of the Driver from a machine (plugged in, emotionless) and into a feeling, motivated thing.

In Wright's world, stoicism doesn't last his heroes long. Baby can be driven by emotions, where as Refn's and Gosling's Driver is (more so) unfeeling of the physical and emotional landscape, like a criminal of Michael Mann's L.A. underworld. His encounter with diner waitress Debora (Lily James) lures him out of a life of crime. His iPod suddenly seems to shuffle completely; his killer track, Queen's "Brighton Rock," evaporates into soft, bluesy soul (think Aretha Franklin or Gladys Knight, neither of which I believe are featured on the film's soundtrack).

Baby is kept from running away with the girl of his dreams by Doc (Kevin Spacey), an underworld heist planner, who always has a job for Baby, and while Baby sees Doc as the closest thing to a father figure, he can't shake that Doc might also cross him at any time. Added to the mix are Buddy (Jon Hamm) and Darling (Eiza Gonzalez), a pair of ecstatic modern day Bonnie and Clyde-types, and Bats (Jamie Foxx), a perpetually unhinged con, all of whom lose their trust in Baby as he falls for Debora. Baby drives all of these characters for their jobs, but never finds security until he meets her.

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Essentially, Baby is not oblivious to crime, but young love seems to be the only thing that brings him closer to the American Dream: driving down the highway in an open car with no particular place to go.

Fast cars, a dash of diner culture, young sweet love - how much more American could Wright have gotten? He does not deconstruct crime cinema nearly as much as he affirms it. I do wish the supporting players (i.e. Spacey, Hamm, etc.) had a little more weight and backbone during their screentime. And Wright's trademark of highly violent climaxes are detected again, and as preposterously entertaining it proves, it is also exhaustive.

But Baby Driver, I think, is not reliant on a strong screenplay. I might argue that this is Wright's real directorial debut. He's already a fantastic writer, born with the eyes and the ears for visual comedy. The synching of music, sound, and cutting is absolutely splendid, something we haven't seen in a long time, if at all. I think what I enjoyed about this film on a more personal level is that it is old fashioned, how Baby is an adamant user of the iPod. In Wright's America, he recognizes the rise of Spotify as the main source of music. Could iPods be the next retro electronic in the next decade? We'll have to see.

This is a magnificent picture, entertaining and unapologetically romanticized cinema. It might be the best film of the summer, one of the best of the year thus far.

***1/2