Baby Driver (2017)
Directed by Edgar Wright
After being coerced into working for a crime boss, a young getaway driver finds himself taking part in a heist doomed to fail.
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Walter Hill’s 1978 stunner The Driver is a big influence here — hell, the legendary filmmaker makes a vocal cameo at the end as a court room translator — as is what Wright refers to as The Holy Trinity of Nineties L.A. action-crime thrillers: 1991’s Point Break, 1992’s Reservoir Dogs, and 1995’s Heat.
While Baby Driver is undoubtedly influenced by the likes of Heat, Reservoir Dogs, and The Driver–so much so that eagle-eyed fans should keep their eyes peeled for a Walter Hill cameo–the film is the singular product of Wright’s creative vision.
With “Baby Driver,” his first film since 2010’s “Scott Pilgrim vs. the World” set on this side of the Atlantic, Wright pays exuberant pop tribute to pictures like Walter Hill’s 1978 cult favorite, “The Driver,” as well as its ultra-stylish, ultra-violent 2011 descendant, Nicolas Winding Refn’s “Drive.”
Though the screenplay gives him a halfhearted backstory about being with his parents, as a child, when they died in a car crash (and that would make him want to become a driver?), most of his motives remain a blur; given a chance to flee, he hesitates, not because, like Ryan O’Neal in “The Driver,” or Ryan Gosling in “Drive,” he runs in some existential groove of his own devising but because he’s barely a character at all.
And the film takes a smart approach to cameos, too (see: a brief appearance from rappers Big Boi and Killer Mike, a nod to both the film’s musical trappings and its Atlanta setting; and a voiceover cameo from director Walter Hill , whose The Driver is one of the film’s main inspiration points).
Its set-up — Baby (Ansel Elgort), who listens to music so constantly that it’s baked into almost every single scene of his movie, is the best getaway driver in the game but, needless to say, winds up in over his head with a crime lord (Kevin Spacey) — lacks for fussiness à la Walter Hill’s The Driver (an obvious comparison made all the more legitimate by that director’s passing cameo towards film’s end), though Wright et al.’s prowess makes it, for me, a cut above entirely.
This may make “Baby Driver” seem like a bizarre combination of the Walter Hill’s enigmatic car chase classic “The Driver” (Hill even makes a cleverly disguised cameo appearance) and the immortal musical/car-crash hybrid “The Blues Brothers” but it has a lot more going on for it than just that.
A souped-up fun machine of heists, first love and action-comedy smarts, Baby Driver sees Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz director Edgar Wright filling his tank with gas from the genre classics (The Driver, The Blues Brothers) and then speeding off with the soundtrack cranked all the way up to unforgettable.
The car chases seen here are some of the best seen on film, harkening back to the great car chases of film yore such as Bullitt, The French Connection and The Blues Brothers, and resulting in a ballet of burnt rubber and screeching tyres.
The result is a supercharged piece of fun unlike any motorized choreography since John Landis destroyed a fleet of cop cars in The Blues Brothers.
Moments after it begins, a red turbocharged Subaru is dancing through downtown Atlanta, leading police cruisers on a manic, destructive chase that feels like the spiritual successor of 1980’s “The Blues Brothers.”
From beginning to end, Wright chews through dozens upon dozens of songs, making this seem like one long, epic music video, but here’s the thing: While, yes, this film exists in a very surreal, dreamlike state — think David Lynch’s Wild at Heart and Tony Scott’s True Romance — the action never loses its footing.
Baby’s a lot like rabid B-movie connoisseur Clarence Worley in the Quentin Tarantino-scripted “True Romance,” or fellow Elvis devotee Sailor Ripley in David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart”: Such obsessive characters prove intensely passionate, slightly crazy, and as committed to their women as they are to the quirks that preoccupy them the rest of the time.
From the opening chase — set to a song so egregiously mid-1990s-college-radio that I will be amazed if anyone younger than 39 or older than 50 will even be able to hear it, let alone recognize it — to the filmic shout-outs to “Wild at Heart,” “Heat” and pretty much anything that Tarantino touched, “Baby Driver” is the most movie-made-by-a-guy-born-in-1974 you are likely to see in a good long time.
"Drive" is a main influence, concept-wise, with themes borrowed from "Wild At Heart," "Bonnie & Clyde" and "Thelma and Louise."
His reactions are lightning-quick but he has an innocent enthusiasm that distinguishes him from older, more world-weary types behind the wheel like, say, Steve McQueen in Bullitt (1968) or Ryan Gosling in Drive (2011).
The car chases seen here are some of the best seen on film, harkening back to the great car chases of film yore such as Bullitt, The French Connection and The Blues Brothers, and resulting in a ballet of burnt rubber and screeching tyres.
Wright based his film largely on Steve McQueen's riotous chase scenes on the streets of San Francisco in "Bullitt" (1968).
Baby Driver is sweet fantasy, unlike more violent and existential vehicular visions such as Drive or Bullitt.
The concept of the car chase suffered in limbo for too long with inexperienced directors too often cutting corners instead of respecting why films like “The French Connection,” “Bullitt” and “Ronin” are still held in high regard today.
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Like every Edgar Wright movie since “Shaun of the Dead,” the director’s fifth feature, “ Baby Driver ,” takes a ludicrous concept and turns it into a brilliant exercise in high style and a rush of big ideas.
Spaced remains a cult classic, the same goes for Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and his Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy — ahem, 2004’s Shaun of the Dead, 2007’s Hot Fuzz, and 2013’s The World’s End — is more than enough to justify his inclusion on a list of must-watch filmmakers for the next 20 years.
But compared to “Hot Fuzz,” “At World’s End” or “Shaun of the Dead,” “Baby Driver”s story feels unsophisticated in its simplicity, and lacking in the emotional intelligence of Wright’s previous films.
From the moment Edgar Wright hyper-synched the daily monotony of grooming, flushing and toast spread in “Shaun of the Dead,” you had to figure he had a movie in him like “Baby Driver.”
But if anything, Wright retains and expands on his ability to make very specific musical references work universally (the born-in-1970 Sisters of Mercy obsessive in “The World’s End,” the amazing Stone Roses joke in “Shaun of the Dead” ).
There has always been something of a secret language to Wright’s work, dating all the way back to shows like Spaced and evolving through his cult-favorite Three Flavours Cornetto trilogy (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and The World’s End).
Spaced remains a cult classic, the same goes for Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and his Three Flavours Cornetto Trilogy — ahem, 2004’s Shaun of the Dead, 2007’s Hot Fuzz, and 2013’s The World’s End — is more than enough to justify his inclusion on a list of must-watch filmmakers for the next 20 years.
But compared to “Hot Fuzz,” “At World’s End” or “Shaun of the Dead,” “Baby Driver”s story feels unsophisticated in its simplicity, and lacking in the emotional intelligence of Wright’s previous films.
There has always been something of a secret language to Wright’s work, dating all the way back to shows like Spaced and evolving through his cult-favorite Three Flavours Cornetto trilogy (Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, and The World’s End).
Whereas films like Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz found a fresh, beating heart inside the milieu of genres that’s been done to death, Baby Driver leaves the ticker of the heist and car chase movies alone and takes a defibrillator to the overall style.
Wright, the gonzo comic-thriller pastiche artist behind “Shaun of the Dead,” “Hot Fuzz” and “The World’s End” (his masterpiece, for my money), has a talent for repurposing the creakiest B-movie standards.
The new film from Edgar Wright, the British director of “Shaun of the Dead” (2004) and “Hot Fuzz” (2007), is “Baby Driver.”
The car chases seen here are some of the best seen on film, harkening back to the great car chases of film yore such as Bullitt, The French Connection and The Blues Brothers, and resulting in a ballet of burnt rubber and screeching tyres.
The concept of the car chase suffered in limbo for too long with inexperienced directors too often cutting corners instead of respecting why films like “The French Connection,” “Bullitt” and “Ronin” are still held in high regard today.
Walter Hill’s 1978 stunner The Driver is a big influence here — hell, the legendary filmmaker makes a vocal cameo at the end as a court room translator — as is what Wright refers to as The Holy Trinity of Nineties L.A. action-crime thrillers: 1991’s Point Break, 1992’s Reservoir Dogs, and 1995’s Heat.
While Baby Driver is undoubtedly influenced by the likes of Heat, Reservoir Dogs, and The Driver–so much so that eagle-eyed fans should keep their eyes peeled for a Walter Hill cameo–the film is the singular product of Wright’s creative vision.
It’s in the realm of Quentin Tarantino’s Reservoir Dogs and Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, but without Tarantino’s sexual sadism or Refn’s art-house pretensions.
Que Quentin Tarantino sea otro de los tótems a quienes el director cita en su lista de agradecimientos final no es extraño al ver esas reuniones para planificar los golpes que son un Reservoir Dogs con Kevin Spacey (hacía siglos que no estaba tan bien) haciendo todos los señores de colores.
Aunque la historia (inspirada por filmes como Point Break, Heat y Reservoir Dogs) no es nada del otro mundo, sí hay que darle mucho crédito al director Edgar Wright por todo lo que logra con este su proyecto de pasión (sorry Ant-Man).
( Wright mentioned he’d been inspired by the “holy trinity” of ’90s heist movies: Heat, Point Break, and Reservoir Dogs.)
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My, does he give it everything—strutting and gliding, along sidewalks and into shops, during the opening credits, as if treading in the red-booted footsteps of John Travolta, at the start of “Saturday Night Fever.”
You can’t help but recall John Travolta’s iconic strut to kick off “Saturday Night Fever.”
From beginning to end, Wright chews through dozens upon dozens of songs, making this seem like one long, epic music video, but here’s the thing: While, yes, this film exists in a very surreal, dreamlike state — think David Lynch’s Wild at Heart and Tony Scott’s True Romance — the action never loses its footing.
Baby’s a lot like rabid B-movie connoisseur Clarence Worley in the Quentin Tarantino-scripted “True Romance,” or fellow Elvis devotee Sailor Ripley in David Lynch’s “Wild at Heart”: Such obsessive characters prove intensely passionate, slightly crazy, and as committed to their women as they are to the quirks that preoccupy them the rest of the time.
His screenplay rivals that written by Quentin Tarantino for True Romance (1993) both in its wisecracking wit and the way it combines hardboiled gangster movie tropes with youthful romanticism.
A movie-as-mixtape with few slots available for catch-your-breath downtempo tracks, Edgar Wright's rollicking Baby Driver is a Gone in 60 Seconds for the La La Land crowd, a True Romance that relishes the long wait before its young lovers can finally go on the lam.
The scenes between them sparkle with all the charm of La La Land crossed with True Romance.
Despite his occupation, Baby and Deborah are innocents in love amid eloquently profane criminal circumstances, like Clarence and Alabama in True Romance, a movie this one's rush often feels like.