‘Baby Driver’ is music to the ears
Despite minor flaws, bank heists never sounded better
With his latest genre mashup
Baby Driver, Edgar Wright ruins every exciting car trip around town you were ever going to take. The skillfully crafted crime thriller ( out of four; rated R; in theaters nationwide Wednesday) breaks away from the British writer/director’s usual comedic roots and unleashes exhilarating car chases, gun fights and other action-filled pieces fueled by catchy songs as important to the plot as the characters themselves.
Unfortunately, what’s missing is the quirky charm of Wright’s fantastic earlier works like Shaun
of the Dead and Hot Fuzz. Because the new movie is so stylized, scenes like an epic ballistic ballet of firearms set to the familiar saxophone strains of Tequila are far more memorable than the people doing the shooting.
The main man behind the wheel is Baby (Ansel Elgort), a shy, laconic guy who’s become a legendary Atlanta getaway driver at a young age. Constantly at his side, whether waiting for his fellow criminals to rob a bank or just going for a coffee run, is an iPod with tunes that are literally the soundtrack of his life.
Revolving members of his crew like Griff (Jon Bernthal) and Bats (Jamie Foxx) are irked that headphones are always stuck in his ears, a salve for the tinnitus he’s had since the accident that took his parents’ lives when he was young. But crime boss Doc (Kevin Spacey) — whom Baby is still paying off following an earlier incident in his career — always has the kid’s back, since he considers Baby his “lucky charm.”
Our hero begins to rethink his way of life when he meets outgoing waitress Debora (Lily James), and the more he wants to leave town with her, the more he’s pulled back under Doc’s considerable sway.
Movie heists never sounded this good. Stacks of money hit the table and car doors slam to the beat of various tunes: The Damned’s Neat Neat Neat powers a phenomenal police pursuit through ATL that’ll get your heart racing, and Baby faces the music (metaphorically speaking) as his “killer” song, Queen’s Brighton Rock, plays. Once you get past the three main robberies, the story shifts into neutral — the finale leaves a lot to be desired with a pesky villain who just won’t die, and the overall characterization suffers a bit with its focus on musically charged high jinks. Elgort inhabits Baby’s physicality well — he dances through town and runs from the cops with equal aplomb — though his and James’ Romeo and Juliet dynamic feels forced.
Wright utilizes interesting and subtle ways to flesh out his players: Baby’s mixtapes have titles that describe his personality — from Too Fast to Die to Mozart in
a Go-Kart — and gun-toting married couple Buddy (Jon Hamm) and Darling (Eiza González) are enigmas until a diner rant by the mercurial Bats explains their backstory. Foxx’s character is an insane delight who also ties into the movie’s subtext about the 1% and the downtrodden who do bad things to get what they think they deserve.
When all cylinders are pumping, Baby Driver is an enchanting experiment that puts the pedal to the metal. And even a few off notes can’t stop the beat of Wright’s fast and furious symphony.