Review: Baby Driver
Edgar Wright is a genius.
Most folks who pay attention are already aware but it needs to be mentioned as the world of filmmaking is often one measured by box office, awards, and hype. Somehow Wright has managed to be an anomaly in his ability to be a major name without having the same baggage. Baby Driver exists right now in part to his exodus from Ant Man and that film's loss is the audience's gain. Baby Driver is a bullwhip crack to a genre in desperate need of one.
Music and film are inseparable. Sometimes one takes the lead but they always form a bond that takes film from the superficial level into nooks and crannies in a viewer that creates a lasting bond. Recent examples of that bond include Guardians of the Galaxy and Drive. The former used its soundtrack as a shortcut to emotion and the latter as a symbiotic parasite to install the material subcutaneously to create new layers of depth. To Baby Driver, music is as important as words or action and like Drive, the whole package sings.
This is the first film that really showcases the filmmaker's entire toolset. The source material is his. This is not an adaptation and aside from the irreplaceable Nira Park this is as solo as we've seen Wright.
All of the director's skills are distilled to perfection here. His ability to find humor in small places as well as expected ones. The heightened way he shoots film and tells a story crisply and oftentimes with scarily effortless thrift. The way he amplifies an actor's skills, or at least provides a vessel for them to shine. Though there are some big stars on display, this is a purging of Wright's massive skill into something both electric and fun. Though he'd never say it, the star of this film is Wright himself and if there's any justice this will be a watershed film for the director. That said, a smaller and Wright-driven project like this every two years is more enticing than any franchise picture could be.
It's a simple and small story. A young man who's had a tough road making do in a dangerous business he's both trapped and freed by. Ansel Elgort is Baby, suffering from tinnitis and driving getaway cars to the music eternally playing through one of his many media players. He's an extension of his vehicle, and his eccentricities make him difficult to work with but the best at his craft. Forced by debt to a crime lord (Kevin Spacey), Baby is that truly cinematic of characters. One who wants to do good but whose situation carries him way too close to the fire.
The cast is filled with great performers having a fun time with characters that appear one-note but develop into terrific foils. Jon Hamm, Eiza González, and Jamie Foxx in particular seem to be having the time of their lives as oily and lovable in that way only bad guys in great crime flicks can be. As the action gets more intense and the material gets darker (more so than would seem by the advertising), Wright's decisions at every hairpin turn keep it fun and fresh. Considering the sheer amount of similar content being produced on the screen and tube, it's no small accomplishment. The film flies. It is also a rare one whose central love story (featuring the excellent Lily James) grounds the story and never feels forced.
It's a magical little movie.
Artwork by Simon O. Wright
