Drive

When I first heard about Nicolas Winding Refn’s Drive, my heart jumped as I thought ‘Yes, Ryan Gosling is BACK, and he’s going to make me love him more, the yummy so and so’.

And as I sat down to watch the film, I was ready and waiting to be entranced by Gosling and to not pay too much attention to what’s going on.

But, in actual fact, the film’s tangled and captivating Tarantino-esque plot overwhelmed the teenage girl inside me who craved for Noah out of The Notebook.

But, in the space of five minutes, the occasional dialogue and tense silence of Gosling’s character (who appears to have no name) reeled me in, and I found myself literally on the edge of my seat.

He carries off the mysterious personality of an unsociable nomad living by no rules to perfection, broodily pining after Carey Mulligan’s character despite her temperamental American accent.

But enough of them. More about our beloved ginger friend Christina Hendricks, who plays Blanche, a tricksy accessory in a robbery that goes wrong.

First off, of course she looks gorgeous. Even though she’s generally sporting a somewhat scruffy style, she still fares well as a ginger goddess (let’s ignore the cigarette in her hand). Secondly, her acting is impeccable; her terrified damsel is just as good as her cool, self-important criminal.

But I must admit, I was quite put off by all the blood and guts. Blanche’s departure from the storyline is impressively brutal, unexpected, and ambiguous (spoiler alert, I know). I’m just trying to let you lovely people know, that this is not for the fainthearted.

Although saying this, I would still watch it just for the great acting (and delicious Driver). Perhaps with the lights on this time though.