Edgar Wright is a favorite filmmaker of mine. An adroit connoisseur of visual comedy, quick wit, soundtrack assembly, and exact breakneck pacing, his feature outings thus far have been largely confined to the farcical. None of that self-referential humor is lost in Baby Driver, despite its genre trappings being less clear-cut than Wright's previous flicks. In fact, all of Wright's best and most memorable traits as a filmmaker are intact in Baby Driver, from his blink-and-you-miss-it sight gags to his snappy, cheesy one-liners to his unabashed love for the 80s. And it works just as well here in a heist comedy played mostly straight as it does in the realm of satire. While I haven't decided where it falls in comparison to Wright's other films, fans of his style will not be disappointed with this one.
Wright often gets flak for being mostly style over substance, and while I don't personally hold that to be true, I think it's important to talk about that style, because it's something Wright has in spades over the majority of other action and comedy directors of today. When we talk about the "style" in Edgar Wright movies in the context of style and substance, it's not "style" like in the Transformers movies or what have you. This isn't mere candy for the eyes and ears or quick cuts and swooping camera moves for the sake of being "different" - Wright's style is exact, measured, exhaustive, and requires a great deal of talent as a filmmaker, as well as an infrequently offered amount of creative control. Wright is the rare kind of comedy director whose films don't get away with being funny simply by having actors saying funny things or being in silly situations. The filmmaking - the relationship between things in and out of the frame, and the use of camera movement, editing, and sound design - often times create jokes where there were none, deliver information about a character, set and alter tones, etc. We expect these things with genres deemed more sophisticated; why not with comedies?
The point is, even if the assertion that Wright exercises style over substance were true, it would ignore the fact that his style is not superficial. And that is very true in Baby Driver as well. If you've heard any of the praise for this movie, of which there is a lot, you probably already know about its main standout element - its soundtrack is not only wonderful and varied, but it also underscores the entire film and the character of Baby, with the music syncing up with everything from car door slams to coffee cup taps to machine gun fire. This isn't just a feat of purposeful editing - there are long, uninterrupted takes of numerous very subtle character actions synced perfectly up to very specific songs, sometimes even sung along to or mouthed by characters in the scene. The music quite literally informs and drives every scene in the movie, to exhilarating effect. Even when there aren't any car chases or gunfights going on, the scenes of snappy dialogue and exposition never feel boring because of Wright's crackling direction, some great performances, and brilliant pacing, all not only underscored but emboldened by great song choices across the board (I also give this film credit over other recent films with great soundtracks like Guardians of the Galaxy, which, while having numerous great songs, is mostly filled with familiar chart-toppers, whereas this film gives the spotlight to some real deep cuts). This is a rare film that, to me, is never boring.
The point is, even if the assertion that Wright exercises style over substance were true, it would ignore the fact that his style is not superficial. And that is very true in Baby Driver as well. If you've heard any of the praise for this movie, of which there is a lot, you probably already know about its main standout element - its soundtrack is not only wonderful and varied, but it also underscores the entire film and the character of Baby, with the music syncing up with everything from car door slams to coffee cup taps to machine gun fire. This isn't just a feat of purposeful editing - there are long, uninterrupted takes of numerous very subtle character actions synced perfectly up to very specific songs, sometimes even sung along to or mouthed by characters in the scene. The music quite literally informs and drives every scene in the movie, to exhilarating effect. Even when there aren't any car chases or gunfights going on, the scenes of snappy dialogue and exposition never feel boring because of Wright's crackling direction, some great performances, and brilliant pacing, all not only underscored but emboldened by great song choices across the board (I also give this film credit over other recent films with great soundtracks like Guardians of the Galaxy, which, while having numerous great songs, is mostly filled with familiar chart-toppers, whereas this film gives the spotlight to some real deep cuts). This is a rare film that, to me, is never boring.
They are not the only impressive thing about the film, but the car chase/action sequences are incredibly impressive, and worth noting for sure. Wright underwent a painstaking effort to do the vast majority of the eye-popping, eardrum-rattling car tricks practically, with stunt actors and even the actual actors like Elgort and Hamm performing some spectacularly exciting maneuvers. Wright manages to wring both humor and thrills in nearly equal measure throughout these scenes. The opening scene in particular, in which Baby makes a harrowing getaway from the Atlanta PD to the song "Bellbottoms" by the Jon Spencer Blues Explosion, is legitimately some of the best car chase stuff ever put to film. In total, it's probably Wright's most singularly thrilling film, and the most exciting and impressively directed action flick since Fury Road. On top of that, most of the performances are excellent. Ansel Elgort officially surprised me, going from what I always saw as a rather bland actor who would be relegated to young adult novel adaptations before making a strained Oscar bid in his 30s to an empathetic, charming character actor that oozes cool. Kevin Spacey isn't doing anything exactly "new", but he delivers his lines, both sinister and silly, with equal precision. Though her character is under-written (I would like for Wright to try writing a non-"dream girl" female character, although they are always well-done and fit their respective films), Lily James is unbelievably charming as Debora the waitress. Eiza Gonzalez is given some big moments to shine in what I hope is a breakout role for her, Jamie Foxx is silly and not always on his A-game but frequently steals the show as Bats, and Jon Hamm gives what might be my favorite performance of the film portraying perhaps the most compelling character.
As far as story goes, the movie stays relatively within normal crime/action/heist thriller territory, but it's never exactly predictable. Astute viewers will pick up on Wright's set-ups for both jokes and story beats alike that vary in their subtlety, but exactly how the shit is about to go down is always hard to predict. Partially through his direction and partially through his complete willingness to suddenly and unceremoniously kill off major characters in his films, Wright has an uncanny ability to keep the audience guessing at every turn, and to make almost any potential outcome seem plausible, a quality that can be and is used to conjure up both visceral tension and sudden belly laughs. This is also owed a lot to his characters - believable, but never exactly "real". We feel real sympathy for Baby when told his backstory, and we feel real fear that Foxx and Spacey's character have the capacity to do terrible things to Baby or anyone, and yet they all embody a sort of cartoonishness that not only lets them spit out zingers without looking ridiculous, but also make some outrageous decisions. There is a veil of fantasy to Baby Driver, but it never feels like an excuse or a "get out of jail free" card to eschew all sense. Instead, like most Wright films, it invents a reality very close to ours, one where we believe with near equal conviction that Baby is a real human being who is in real danger, as well as someone who could convince a girl he's known for a few days to commit to taking a never-ending road trip with him as soon as he's done being an accessory to theft and murder. (We believed Scott Pilgrim, played by a scrawny Michael Cera, when he said he punched a guy so hard he saw the curvature of the Earth, so stranger things have happened)
Baby Driver is ultimately a film about connection through music. It's a strong visual whenever Baby shares his earbuds with someone, literally physically connecting him to someone with music. Baby not only uses music to self-medicate his condition, but also to escape his life, keep himself moving, and just generally add rhythm and melody to his day, to the point that the whole world around him as we see it revolves around the music playing (which makes the very few scenes where there is no music playing just that much more harrowing). It's often as fantastical as any other Wright film thus far, but it's populated with characters anchored by great performers given great direction, and quite literally choreographed with an impressive attention to detail.
I'll note that, like most Edgar Wright films, Baby Driver's ending may not sit well with everyone, though it's not nearly as bleak as some of his others (his last film ends with the literal apocalypse), but I can't really think of a reason to not recommend this film unless you hate good action scenes, good music, humor, handsome men, or fun. It's fast, inventive, funny, sweet, and features some of the most impressively directed, shot, and edited sequences, action and otherwise, I've seen in a film in a while. It's more fun than any big blockbuster I've seen this summer, made for about one fourth the price. It is an almost perfectly executed fun time at the movies. If it is not on my list of favorites at the end of this year, we will have had a historically good year at the movies.
Grade: A
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