Baby Driver (Dir Edgar Wright, 1hr, 53m)

Edgar Wright has long been a director whose mixture of slick, intelligent writing, smart, knowing and often visceral action, and with an ear for cutting soundtracks that perfectly match his films, (to the point that some pieces of music are indelibly linked to the scenes they accompany) have made me and many others fans of his films. However from his ice-cream themed zom-rom-, cop- and alien-com, to the adaption of slacker-hero comic, Scott Pilgrim vs the World, he's largely felt like an English answer to Tarantino-killer soundtracker, genre savvy, endlessly quotable.
Baby Driver, however, pushes Wright into a domain QT hasn't hit for years-that of pulpish heist movie-and arguably does it better than the American ever could; with its musico getaway driver,who depends on his killer soundtrack, his wanderlust-driven waitress girlfriend and a supporting cast of criminal masterminds and loose cannons, it hits the road running and never looks back.

In much the same way as Mika Levi's soundtrack for Jackie signified the gathering stormclouds around Kennedy and the chaos of the aftermath of her husband's death, so Wright's meticulously pieced-together soundtrack for Baby Driver acts both as a diagetic (that is to say, music being played, in this case, from Baby's huge collection of iPods) and non-diagetic (as a score that cannot be heard in-film) soundtrack, and also as an extension of Baby himself-many sequences are either cut to or, indeed, action occurs to the beat, in particular a stunning shoot out where every re-load, every shot, and every bullet-casing clatter comes in on-beat. As a result it not only echoes Baby's shifting emotion, but, as with many young men, Baby is creating a narrative and soundtrack himself, a story where he's the protagonist of a noirish thriller, and his iPods provide the soundtrack.

Baby himself is, much like many of Wright's protagonists, someone stuck in routine, regardless of how hard they struggle to escape it: Shaun, Gary, Scott and  Nicholas, and now Baby are either stuck in the 9-5 grind, boring minutiae of their lives, or simply at a dead end in their lives and trying to reclaim something. Where Baby differs from the other four is both in his age, and his morality. Though Wright's other heroes are largely good people in extraordinary conditions, be it zombie or alien invasions or shadowy murders, Baby's world is more realistic and a good deal grittier than anything Wright has explored before, and as a result, the decisions he makes are harder, and weigh heavier upon him.

From an initial introduction in which Baby, his need for music and his driving skills are shown in sublime detail, cut effortlessly to The Jon Spencer Blues Explosion's Bellbottoms, complete with in-car air guitar, air-drumming and sing-along-after picking up the similarly obtusely monikered gang of Griff, Buddy and Darling, (we get a Tarantino-aping conversation about codenames later in the film) Baby runs a gauntlet of police, with some of the best driving since McQueen's runaround in Bullit, complete with some jawdropping skids, switches and pedal-to-the-metal action that leaves the viewer wincing at every near-miss or police cruiser crash. 

After the gang split, and his debt to Doc, chillingly played by  Kevin Spacey, is reduced, with one final job owing, Baby returns home to his deaf foster father, and when frequenting a diner his mother used to work in, meets a kindred spirit in waitress Debora, who also has a love of music. One bungled job later, with one of the team leaving their gun in a jettisoned car and with an enraged gunman chasing Baby and the crew, and Baby is left disposing the hapless individual, his debts seemingly paid off. Getting a job as a pizza delivery man in an attempt to get straight, he's promptly dragged back into another job, and introduced to the team of Buddy and Darling, with the unpredictable and indeed dangerous Bats joining the group; just how unpredictable Bats is is reveal led when he promptly double crosses a group selling guns to the group, and promptly murders them.

When trouble with the heist arrives, Doc has second thoughts but manages to be convinced to go ahead with the plan, but his conscience is beginning to catch up with him, and when the plan begins to unravel, Baby promptly offs Bats, and in the ensuing chase, Darling is shot dead, with Buddy vowing revenge on Baby-trying to make his escape with Debora, he has to make a stop at Doc's and here he is cornered by Buddy, who after a chaotic fight with Baby and Debora is offed. The duo make their escape, only to be cornered by the police, and Baby reluctantly turns himself in, seemingly finding redemption.

I loved this film. From its witty dialogue to the soundtrack, to the fact that for great chunks of this film sign language is used, to the remixes that Baby makes of conversations he had, to the shoved-back-in-your seat feeling that many of the chases give you: as though you're riding along with Baby and co, much of Wright's camera is either slow slung or indeed in the car, giving a physicality that many other chase movies fail to pull off. Wright also constructs characters as memorable as any with Pegg and Frost, from Elgort as Baby himself to the jittery and dangerous Bats played by Jamie Foxx to the slick and clearly loving couple of Darling (Eiza González) who in another director's hands could well have been sleazy but is played here in a light that makes her as dangerous as her partner, Buddy (Jon Hamm) who acts, in the film's denouement as a dark reflection both of Baby and his lifestyle and of what he could become if he remains in crime. Even minor characters, such as the hapless, gun-losing JD, and nasally challenged Eddie (a cameo by Flea), are given respect a lesser film wouldn't extent.


Yet, the film never becomes too Hollywood, never too big budget-there are quiet, intimate moments in which Wright's characteristic style remains the focus-the focus remains on the comedic, if at points darkly, than the action-the fact that Wright allows his hero to be a goofball rather than a cold, overly mature figure, the fact that a scene that, in another heist movie, may end with our hero threatened or even injured for his apparent role as a grass, is laughed off. The thing about this film is not only that it's cool, but that it's understated, both in appearance and in tone.

Everything about this film is superb-the dialogue crackles with effortlessly quotable lines, the soundtrack is pitch-perfect, and the cast sublime-there is an infectious, almost nervous energy that runs like fuel for this film, and indeed the multiple homages to heist cinema, to that most adrenaline-heavy part of cinema where nerves, and skill behind the wheel are key only heighten this. But what puts this film apart is Wright's sense of cinematic sensibility-Tarantino may make a film akin to Baby Driver but his heroes would likely get away with it-he may pepper his work with a similarly retrospective soundtrack, but Wright uses it altogether in a smarter and more intelligent way.
Baby Driver, in short, is a smarter, leaner picture than anything comparable to it, and cements Edgar Wright as a director who consistently makes films of a rare and exciting quality.

Rating: Must See.