A man who has lost those he holds dearest in the world stumbles on, looking for a reason to live and work, in the oblique but involving Drive My Car.
It is one of those classic Asian films whose depth and modernity instantly bridge the culture gap for Western audiences. In seductively photographed images and carefully measured (but very plentiful) words, the life of Yusuke Kafuku unfolds before us like a piece of origami, one surprising fold following another. Behind the enviable persona of this respected, sought-after theater director and happily married man, the protag carries the burden of secret knowledge about his wife and their grief-stricken past. His meeting with a dutiful young woman assigned to chauffeur him around takes the story towards a new destination.
Directed with inspired style and great feeling by Ryusuke Hamaguchi (Wheel of Fortune and Fantasy), this enigmatic drama has been a huge hit with festival audiences, as demonstrated by the long list of prizes it has accumulated. The film’s laurel-strewn path began by winning the best screenplay award in Cannes and it has continued to reap major prizes, including a best film nod from the National Society of Film Critics and best motion picture not in English at the Golden Globes. It is widely considered one of the top contenders for an Academy Award in the international film category.
Erudite but at the same time emotionally engaging, Drive My Car explores the world on multiple levels. One feat is the way it combines the seemingly-at-odds writing of modern Japanese author Haruki Murakami (the short story that inspired the film is drawn from Men Without Women) and Russian master Anton Chekhov, whose play Uncle Vanya about love, illusion and disappointment acts as a counterpoint to Murakami’s tale. By merging their points of view, Hamaguchi and co-screenwriter Takamasa Oe create a deeply resonant atmosphere that reaches the heart and soul of its closed-off characters.
Yusuke Kafuku is a man who has it all: he’s a famous actor and director of experimental theater, and he has a very special wife. Actor Hidetoshi Nishijima, who played the beaten-up movie fan in Amir Naderi’s Cut, draws on the same take-it-on-the-chin stoicism when faced with the unfathomable mystery of his beloved wife Oto (Reika Kirishima). She is introduced in a memorably kinky bedroom scene, her naked body sensuously outlined against a window while she recounts an erotic story to her husband who is lying in bed. Neither fantasy nor dream, this tale about a teenage girl who secretly visits the room of a schoolboy comes to her in a trance-lie state while they are having sex.
Intriguingly, Oto is a screenwriter and TV dramatist who, with Kafuku’s help, turns her erotic imagination into late-night Japanese TV shows. Despite what to Western eyes appears to be some distance on the husband’s part, these two successful, good-looking professionals appear to have the perfect life and relationship. But some forty minutes into the film, not long after Oto introduces her mate to the young TV star she’s working with, Takatsuki (Masaki Okada), a pivotal event sends a shock wave through the narrative. And opening credits roll.
The boy’s disturbing presence will dog Kafuku for the rest of the film. On a trip to Hiroshima he takes up his post as the resident artist at a cultural center, where he is to stage an experimental, multi-lingual version of Uncle Vanya with actors from all around Asia. He is startled to find Takatsuki among the final casting candidates. The handsome young man’s brazen smile and deferential air would get on anyone’s nerves, but Kafuku has a special reason to be annoyed. The rehearsal scenes, which tend to drag on, introduce new characters, like an actress (Yoo-rim Park) who can hear but not speak and who movingly plays a major role using Korean sign language.
His most important discovery, however, is not an actor but his driver. Though he resists, the culture center insists that Misaki (Toko Miura) drive his vintage red Saab for insurance reasons. On one of their outings the 23-year-old reveals that her mother taught her to drive as a teenager so she could pick her up, exhausted and aggressive, from the nightclub in Sapporo where she worked. As the story of Misaki’s mistreatment by her mother is told over the course of many drives, Kafuku loosens up and reveals his sorrows, offering the audience his own insights into his complex relationship with Oto.
The climax comes in a remote mountain village where the past has been covered up, at least partially, by deep snow. It is a touching scene but also a formal one that again reminds us of the multiple layers the filmmaker is juggling. As the fine Hidetoshi Nishijima and Toko Miura break though the invisible wall that separates a professional man from his driver, they find themselves in the same raw human space as the characters at the end of Chekhov’s play.
The impressive tech contributions are led by D.P. Hidetoshi Shinomiya’s lighting that effortlessly divides the long pre-credits sequence filled with sophisticated, intimate interiors from the brighter, more natural lighting in Hiroshima, a city whose past is never far away. Eiko Ishibashi’s musical accompaniment is a quiet delight. And yes, there are moments of ennui along the film’s three-hour journey, but Azusa Yamazaki’s confident editing changes gears frequently and keeps the show on the road.
Director: Ryusuke Hamaguchi
Screenwriters: Ryusuke Hamaguchi, Takamasa Oe based on Haruki Murakami’s short story
Cast: Hidetoshi Nishijima, Masaki Okada, Toko Miura, Reika Kirishima, Yoo-rim Park, Jin Deyon, Sonia Yuan
Producer: Teruhisa Yamamoto
Executive producers: Kazuo Nakanishi, Yuji Sadai
Cinematography: Hidetoshi Shinomiya
Production design: Hyeon-Seon Seo
Costume design: Haruki Koketsu
Editing: Azusa Yamazaki
Music: Eiko Ishibashi
Sound design: Kadoaki Izuta
Production companies: Bitters End in association with C&I Entertainment, Culture Entertainment, Drive My Car Production Committee (all Japan)
World sales: The Match Factory
Venue: Cannes Film Festival (competition)
In Japanese, Korean, English, Mandarin and Korean sign language
179 minutes
