The Driver (1978) Walter Hill’s influential, minimalist crime classic (Blu-Ray Review)

Even though it’s only Walter Hill’s second feature, The Driver feels like it was made by someone with decades of experience. Hill takes tropes from old-school Westerns and Noirs and strips them back to their most primitive forms, although it retains a revisionist approach to the genres where no character represents a binary value of good or evil. The film refuses to even give something as basic as names to its characters, referring to them as simply The Driver or The Detective, reducing them to models that represent certain archetypes within genre cinema. Hill gives the film an incredibly simple plot consisting of a reclusive yet highly skilled getaway driver attempting to evade a violent and hard-edged detective, whilst he deals with enemy gangs and Femme Fatales. Despite having a barren script and formulaic plot, which aggravated American audiences when the film was released in 1978, these qualities help the film stand out against traditional Hollywood normalities at the time and solidify it as a genre classic.

In many ways, the film feels deeply influenced by directors like Robert Bresson. Little attention is given to complex dialogue or exposition, the film is much more focused on gestures and actions which creates a sparse and minimalistic atmosphere. However, the film feels anything but austere and relishes the neon glow of a city brightly lit at night and the kinetic energy of cars crashing into each other. When this minimalism collides with the highly stylised world of crime drama it morphs into something that feels ethereal and dreamlike, causing the film’s images to have an otherworldly feel to them. Also contributing to this is the film’s distinct lack of traditional scoring. Whilst there is music, which is beautifully crafted, Hill refuses to use the score when the action takes place. Instead of a thumping synth score playing over an intense car chase, all you hear are the screeching of tyres and the colliding of metals. It’s an incredibly effective technique that amplifies the importance of these scenes and feels wildly experimental for its time.

Ryan O’Neal gets a lot of flack for being a bad actor, with his flat-line delivery and almost emotionless performances, however, the role of the enigmatic driver is perfect for him. His expressive face allows all his emotions and thoughts to be elegantly represented by a mere change in an expression or a simple hand movement, far more than he could ever say with words. The expression “actions speak louder than words” has never been truer than it is with The Driver, the film’s story is propagated by physical actions rather than engaging in monologues or conversations.

Taking influence from Jean-Pierre Melville is the life of solitude that O’Neal leads in the film. He lives in a tiny apartment, with virtually no furniture or belongings despite the fact he makes large amounts of money working as a getaway driver. Alongside O’Neal are Bruce Dern and Isabelle Adjani who give equally lonely and isolated performances: Adjani’s character lives alone in a fancy high-rise apartment block which looks pretty but remains thoroughly hollow, Dern’s brutal detective doesn’t even get a contextual backstory; his isolation comes from the fact that he has no life outside of his work. Portraying America as a desolate and disconnected world where its characters drift through lives defined by conflict. Something that Michael Mann would go to do with films such as Heat or Collateral.

Lambasted upon release, Hill’s film has since then gained a cult following and become a seminal film of the New Hollywood era. Its minimalistic approach and overwhelmingly existential atmosphere influenced a myriad of directors including Nicolas Winding-Refn and Quentin Tarantino. Hill crafts some incredibly beautiful images and the action is high-octane and straight to the point. The 4k restoration means that the film has never looked better, with the lonely and unearthly texture of the film radiating brightly in every frame.

Autumn’s Archive – The Driver (1978)