Silence Speaks Volumes: Visual Storytelling in “Drive”

Aside from the Driver’s monologue that ushers in the opening sequence, there is very little dialogue to be found in the first ten to fifteen minutes of Nicolas Refn’s 2011 neo-noir Drive. Such a trait speaks to the larger volume of the style that this picture takes on: subtlety within simplicity. Highlighting this film for being “simple” may seem like an odd stance to take in attempting to describe its significance within the realm of neo-noir, but an attentive viewer will quickly find that there is just as much to discern from Drive’s slow, quieter sequences as there is to be found in the more traditionally action-packed ones. Drive makes no attempt to subvert conventions of the genre or defy our expectations in certain respects - rather, the movie comfortably basks in the spotlight of its characterization, offering itself as a tantalizing slice of thrilling noir entertainment to its audience. But in not concerning itself with its definition as a noir, the film instead focuses its energy on fueling the moody aesthetic of the Driver by way of expressive visual storytelling. And that is where the subtle genius lies.

Though there is no question that Drive is a noir, it is still worthwhile to break down exactly how - if for no other reason than to further appreciate the quiet visual storytelling. The central protagonist, who remains unnamed for the entirety of the film, leads a double life: by day, he works as a stunt driver on local film sets, and by night he is a getaway driver for criminals. It becomes quickly apparent to the viewer that the Driver is being exploited for his talents on the legal side of his life, and so it is easy to conclude that his choice to work freelance in the criminal world is a way for him to both make some extra money and to reconcile with some sense of control over his existence, as in his job as a getaway driver he is the one to make and set the rules (the opening lines of the film, and one of the only instances of dialogue in the first act, has the Driver laying out the terms for his services before the screen even fades in from black). In striking such a balance within the scales of power, the Driver seemingly achieves some sense of satisfaction with his life - but it is very apparent that there is a “piece” of him missing. The film quickly sees him getting sucked into extraordinary events full of twists and turns, all thanks to his attraction to the literal girl next door. What ensues is a cataclysm of amoral and bloody action, and with that the label of noir can already easily be placed onto this film. It is anything but subtle when it comes to its categorization - instead, it saves that for its characterization.

Consider the mask that the Driver wears on a couple of different occasions throughout the film. Again, this is a character whose name is never revealed once in the movie - take that into account while looking at the form of this mask, and the label of John Doe immediately comes to mind. The mask has no striking or distinguishing features, and comes off more like a blank template of a human face. What makes this even more significant is that the Driver does not wear this mask when providing his getaway driving services to criminals, which is where one would logically assume he would don such a disguise. Instead, he wears it during his legitimate work as a stunt driver as is showcased in a scene where he signs some papers (while wearing the mask) relieving the film crew of any accountability should he die in an accident. Simply stated, the Driver is invisible. He perceives himself as insignificant and disposable - in the above screenshot, he is staring forlornly into a restaurant where people are talking, laughing and having a good time. The Driver seems very aware of the notion that he will never be able to achieve such a peaceful existence, and the visual of the mask during key scenes in this film compound this emotion tenfold.

And yet the Driver still retains some sense of longing, some hope for a peaceful life. Upon meeting the next door neighbor Irene, a spark that seems to have been on the verge of dying inside the Driver’s heart awakens and grows; however, he knows the fate that such a desire brings. In a phenomenally framed and blocked sequence, the Driver is boxed inside a prison of his own choosing as he looks on at a picture of Irene’s husband. Though he knows the risk of remaining a friend to Irene and her child, he chooses to spend time with them to feel some sense of purpose. Irene is appreciative of the efforts that the Driver makes for her and her child, and to feel wanted - and not exploited - is too attractive a feeling for the Driver to turn away from.

Towards the end of the film, the consequences of the Driver’s decision catches up to him. He has chosen to pursue Irene’s (now late) husband’s aggressors, and involved himself in circumstances that he could have easily turned away from. But his compassion for another human being, something that finally got him to feel some emotion other than insignificance, would poetically result in him feeling tremendous physical pain. As he realizes that he has made a decision he cannot undo, he kisses Irene in a dramatic sequence where the lighting of the scene shifts to make it appear as if there is a spotlight shining on the pair. The Driver is aware of the path he is walking, but he does not condemn it - rather, he continues to walk it and to feel like he is doing some good with his life.