4.5 stars. Rated R, for violence and profanity
By Derrick Bang • Originally published in The Davis Enterprise, 6.30.17
Goodness.
Blend the hyper-driving
acceleration of Gone in 60 Seconds
with Quentin Tarantino’s bad-ass dark humor, add a touch of the most superbly
choreographed music-and-motion sequences ever concocted for classic Hollywood
musicals, and you’re getting close to
this audacious cinematic experience.
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| Baby (Ansel Elgort, left) has spent years working off his unusual debt to Doc (Kevin Spacey), motivated — in part — by the hope that, eventually, this servitude will end. But will this urbane crime lord really be willing to part with such a valuable asset? |
Because the result still must be
filtered through the impertinent sensibilities of British writer/director Edgar
Wright, he of the manic blend of thrills and whacked-out comedy found in his
cult-classic “Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy” (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz
and The World’s End).
Baby Driver is no mere film; it’s a bold,
edge-of-the-seat vision from an auteur who deftly, irreverently exploits the
medium’s every aspect to the max. From the attention-grabbing prolog to the
suspensefully exhilarating climax — not to mention one of the best aw-shucks
Hollywood endings ever added as an epilog — Wright holds our attention to a
degree most filmmakers can only dream about.
You dare not even breathe, at risk of missing something
way-cool.
Not that you should worry about
it, because everything about this
flick is way-cool. Not to mention quite impressive, considering the way Wright
slides from accelerated, throat-clutching intensity to larkish meet-cute
romance — and back again — in the blink of an eye.
To cases:
Music means everything to Baby
(Ansel Elgort), who developed a horrific case of tinnitus during a childhood
accident, and drowns out the incessant whine by orchestrating every waking
moment to paralyzingly loud music pumped into his brain, via the ubiquitous ear
buds connected to one of a dozen iPods he carries at all times. Nor is he
content to rely on the Top 40 power anthems of today and yesterday; he also
mixes his own mash-ups of samples, beats and even offhand chatter captured via
pocket digital recorders.
Aside from serving as the perpetual
home-grown symphony to which he dances and sashays through even the most
mundane activities — such as making lunch — this constant aural companion also
propels Baby’s occasional occupation.
Some people drive. Baby drives.
