Drive (2020)
(On TV, December 2021) Some films have the flaws of their qualities, and documentary Drive is both fascinating and frustrating for the same reason: While justified by a single good idea (what will happen to the act of driving when cars become automated?), it then goes off driving in all directions at once. Becoming a grab-bag of loosely connected sequences more than a coherent argument, Drive is about disabled people getting the means to drive themselves; celebrities reminiscing about childhood drives; a staunch advocate of human driving; fancy “art cars” showing that they’re more than about getting from point A to point B; a pair of very likable teenagers sharing their feelings as they learn to drive; a short history lesson about the impact of personal mobility in North America; and plenty of other things. I’m not really begrudging the highs of writer-director Scott Harper’s film: Hearing Jully Black belt out an impromptu acapella cover of Gary Numan’s “Cars” is an unqualified delight. But somewhere along the way, Drive seems to lose itself in a meander of sidestreets. The journey is clearly more important than the intention at the onset of the trip, because a good chunk of Drive could exist without any mention of its starting doubts about driving automation. Is that a problem? Well, it could be if you were still hankering for a sustained argument around the consequences of automated driving. (And preferably one that goes beyond knee-jerk nostalgia and rote techno-skepticism — Drive isn’t really interested in what automated driving means beyond not handling the wheel.) As it is, it does feel like a bait-and-switch from a clear compelling premise to whatever the filmmakers accumulated during shooting. Its success will clearly hinge on whether you’re willing to stay on-board once it starts taking detours.