Automobiles and people come together in Drive My Car, a profound, thought-provoking, and beautiful film about loss, grief, and learning to finally let go.
Overall Score: 10/10
Image: Bitters End
Despite its status as being the biggest and most important awarding body in the film industry, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences has long had issues regarding an overall lack of diversity and inclusivity. This may, perhaps, be most evident when it comes to the category of Best Picture, for films from non-Western countries are often relegated to a separate category altogether: Best International Feature Film. Very rarely do we see an overlap between the list of nominees for these two awards, but every so often, a movie nominated for Best International Feature Film does manage to find its way into the final Best Picture lineup.
Last year’s Drive My Car managed to do just so and ultimately took home the former award while also being nominated for Best Adapted Screenplay (which it lost to CODA) and Best Director (which The Power of the Dog’s Jane Campion won).
But what might have been most significant was how it was the very first Japanese film to have been nominated for Best Picture and the first in nearly forty years to have earned a nod for directing for a Japanese filmmaker. And, just like the movies that came before it (e.g. Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Roma, and Parasite), Drive My Car is a shining example of the Academy’s ongoing effort to broaden its recognition of cinematic artistry from all around the world.
Anyways, enough talk about awards. Helmed by writer-director Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Drive My Car follows Yūsuke Kafuku, a renowned actor and theater director, as he deals with loss and grief after the sudden and unexpected death of his wife, Oto. Later on, he meets Misaki Watari, a young woman who is assigned to him as his driver. Although reluctant at first, Yūsuke agrees to let Misaki chauffeur him around and eventually opens up to her. Through the time they spend together driving around in his car, the two of them form a special bond, one that allows Yūsuke to finally confront the mysteries left behind by Oto.
If all of that sounds heavy to you, you’d be right. It is. Yet, despite that, Hamaguchi quite interestingly approaches Drive My Car with subtlety and a surprising amount of emotional restraint. For instance, for much of the film, he has his lead actor Hidetoshi Nishijima and primary supporting actress Tōko Miura — who play Yūsuke and Misaki respectively — appear as being quiet and reserved. By doing so, he effectively shows us that his characters have shielded themselves emotionally from the terrible pain they each bear. Also, Hamaguchi very delicately and intricately crafts and lays out each of his scenes, but instead of directly stating exactly what he wants to convey in each moment, he utilizes symbolism, requiring that the audience piece everything together themselves. And with the help of some gorgeous cinematography and an unforgettable score, this allows him to present the movie in an entirely riveting manner.
At the center of all of this are two very subdued, yet brilliant performances by Nishijima and Miura. Both actors masterfully portray individuals who have built walls to protect themselves while giving us a glimpse of the broken people who hide behind them. Think of them as onions. You have to peel back several layers to get to the core. That’s exactly what Nishijima and Miura do. Slowly and ever so carefully, they reveal their characters’ true selves little by little, making the film’s exploration of its subject matter seem all the more realistic. Their work here is truly mesmerizing, and, now that I think about it, I’m rather shocked by how the Academy failed to recognize either of them — especially Nishijima.
To say that Drive My Car is anything short of great would be like committing the most unforgivable of crimes. In fact, I believe that it’s a masterpiece and that it’s a beautiful and haunting depiction of loss and grief. Nevertheless, it’s not going to be for everyone. Many may find the three-hour runtime too lengthy and the required analysis of the movie itself too tedious of a task. But if you’re the kind of person who enjoys long, slow, thoughtful, and deeply moving dramas, then watching Hamaguchi’s latest film should prove to be a rewarding and worthwhile ride.
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