User Reviews

'Drive my Car' by Japanese director Ryusuke Hamaguchi is a complex and elegiac film about love and mourning, about art as a means of relieving personal trauma, about responsibility and about the persistence of pain. Well-written and fine acted, it has won several respectable awards at major international film festivals, and has been nominated for four Academy Awards. Paradoxically, however, Hamaguchi seems to have contracted a disease that is widespread among filmmakers in major American studios - the length of the film is almost three hours. In addition, to understand the psychology and behavior of the characters, it is good to have read Chekhov. The story of the film revolves around two performances with 'Uncle Vania', and without knowing the psychology of the characters in the play, viewers risk omitting facets of the film's heroes. It is a technique often used by Haruki Murakami (whose short story inspired the film) for whom quoting works of art is a way to build a suitable setting for the characters and to amplify their feelings. Viewers should therefore be advised: 'Drive My Car' is a film that offers a lot but requires active intellectual participation.

The long prologue introduces us to three of the four heroes of the film. Yusuke and Oto Kafuku are a couple of theater artists. He is an actor and stage director, she was once an actress but the tragedy of losing a little girl many years ago determined her to leave the stage and the screen. Becoming a screenwriter, she finds inspiration during the couple's sex parties, when, as if in a trance, she invents strange and romantic stories, which she reconstitutes with her husband the next day. Maybe to break the routine, maybe to complete her inspiration, Oto cheats on Yusuke with the young actor Koji Taaktsuki. A possible explanation between the two is prevented by the sudden death of the woman. Two years later (and after the late film's opening credits), Yusuke and Koji meet in Hiroshima, where the director puts on stage 'Uncle Vania' in a bold style with an international cast, and chooses his former rival for the lead role. It's a counter-casting, but not the only one. The two share the longing for the woman they loved, each holds a part of her in his memory and tries to overcome the pain and loss by understanding what is missing. A fourth character, Misaki Watari, appears, a young woman the age that Yusuke and Oto's daughter would have had if she had lived. Misaki will drive Yusuke's exotic red Saab car, as festival rules prohibit the director from driving it during his contract. There is a long process of mutual acquaintance between the mature man and the young woman. It is not just a coincidence that they could be father and daughter, and perhaps both are unconsciously looking surrogates. In each of their biographies there is a death for which they feel they have a share of responsibility, and only by helping each other will they be able to overcome.

The association with Chekhov is not accidental. Murakami is a complex writer, the characters he builds live dramas from which the writer, the reader and the viewer can extract thoughts about the meaning of life. The biographies intersect and influence each other, but in the end only the strongest characters manage to break through. The lead hero chooses to stage 'Uncle Vania' because the play requires actors to get involved and brings to the surface through the characters their inner feelings. The entire section of the movie dedicated to the selection of actors, rehearsals and the three shows (one with 'Waiting for Godot' and two with 'Uncle Vania') demonstrate deep understanding and passion for theater and an organic integration in the main story, in the good tradition of the films of Ingmar Bergman or Istvan Szabo. The team of actors who play many roles of actors is perfectly chosen and directed.

The film has a fifth hero, and this is a collector's car, a red Saab. It is a precious object, obsolete but loved by the married couple of theater people, kept with care and nostalgia by the widowed man. It is also a car a bit unadapted to local conditions, with the steering wheel on the left side in a country where you drive on the left side of the road. But aren't the characters similarly misfit to the environment, with their fascination with European culture, and isn't that true even for Haruki Murakami, perhaps the most European of the great writers of Japan today? Film lovers can't help but notice that 'Drive My Car' becomes by the end a road movie and that the film is part of a series of recent productions in which cars play a significant role, including the French film 'Titane', another of the outstanding productions of 2021.

'Drive My Car' is a complex and interesting film, but it is not easy to watch. The three hours (without a minute) of projection are difficult to justify and do not pass easily. Maybe this is intentional and the director Ryusuke Hamaguchi wanted the audience to share the feeling of the difficult passage of time that the heroes live. And yet, many of the scenes give the feeling of repetition or unjustified lengthening of the frames, in almost each of them I had the feeling that one third could have been cut and the film would have been more focused and its essence easier to assimilate. With two quality films that have captured the screens of the most important international film festivals of 2021, Hamaguchi becomes one of the Japanese directors whose films I will watch with great interest in the coming years.

Things are left unsaid but it's too late, the time has passed but moving on stagnates, the engine sits and dwells, the seas disturbed with swells, as thoughts revolve, left unresolved, and memories rotate.

A reflective piece of filmmaking that idles along at a sedentary pace but never stalls as the lives of two severed souls journey through their pasts together and untwine the chords that shackle them to memories and moments of regret. Beautiful performances all round through a subtle and imaginative approach that will leave you contemplative and reflective, perhaps even more so if you have a similar scenario performing in your own background.

Drive My Car is the sort of movie that, were I to describe it to myself, I'd be wary of it. It's leisurely paced - the first hour is essentially prologue - not a lot happens, and and takes time to get into its rhythm.

But ultimately it's kind of amazing. There's a remarkable subtlety to the characters, the focus on acting as a process is intriguing, and the movie doesn't offer answers but does offer ways to reconsider things you thought you know that are surprisingly compelling. It is also one of these movies you can't imagine being made in America; it just couldn't happen.

This is a movie that sticks with me in a way most movies don't. You should check it out.

Fancy a 55min long Prologue? Look no further!

This surely is an unconventional movie, that combines the principles of acting, story structure and well written dialogue so well, that you at times forget, that you are NOT watching an acting masterclass.

This movie is not an easy watch, its 3h long and yes, you feel it, but that is not necessarily a bad thing. In my opinion, the movie could have cut out 30mins, but the length is used as a storytelling device as well and the movie takes its time to flash out its characters to make them 3-dimensional, which works very well for most of them.

For a movie that has no less than 7 languages in it and (as far as I can judge from the subs) well written dialogue, there is so much left unsaid and left in between the lines for you to interpret.

The weakness of this movie unfortunately is its ending, which didnt satisfy me in the way you would expect a 3h movie to wrap up, but this is just my opinion and you might feel different about it. The ride is certainly worth hopping on!

A story about love, loss, grief, trauma, acceptance & healing that's rendered on screen with the care, attention & understanding it deserves, Drive My Car makes its 3-hour runtime feel insignificant by narrating a thoroughly engrossing drama that could only work if it is allowed to unravel at its own pace and makes for an emotionally crippling journey that benefits from sincere inputs from its cast.

Co-written & directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, the opening credits surface around the 40th minute mark coz that's when the main story actually begins but what its extended prologue does in the meantime is it silently acquaints us with our protagonist's emotional state, inner turmoil & abounding emptiness within, which in effect allows us to sympathise with him & his actions on a much deeper & more intimate level.

What's impressive about Hamaguchi's storytelling is that he gives ample breathing room to his characters and allows them to express themselves at their own comfort. Also, he makes those moments earned through the quiet spaces in between. The story shifts gear once the stage director & the young chauffeur assigned to him start interacting about their past lives and the nuanced tone of their performances makes it even more immersive.

Overall, Drive My Car never hurries through any of its motions and requires patience on the viewers' part but it is worth the effort, for the end result is rewarding & stimulating on more levels than one. Anchored by Hamaguchi's steady direction and strengthened by authentic work from its cast, this Japanese road drama isn't for all but for those who can relate to its emotional journey, the film will prove to be a profoundly personal & therapeutic experience.

Drive My Car is reminiscent of one of Haruki Murakami's novels, 1Q84. Very thick, but also very engrossing. Can't stop reading it until the last page and hope the story continues. The same feeling is also felt when watching Drive My Car.

With a run time of almost 3 hours and scenes that are mostly verbal dialogue, it's amazing that Drive My Car is able to immerse us in its plot instead of trapping us in boredom.

Maybe because we easily relate to the characters and their inner demons. Who hasn't struggled with self-acceptance as well as regret in their life?

6/10 - if you are able to stick out the three hours, you might find some true wisdom, but I found myself more bored than anything else and felt like we could have cut out at least an hour of rehearsal scenes and not really have lost anything.

After all the awards and nominations that this movie has got, I had great expectations for Drive My Car. Such a disappointment! This movie is pretentious and boring, filled with unnecessary graphic sex scenes and annoying characters. What was that? We were 10 people in the cinema yesterday (in Madrid, Spain) and three left in the middle. I almost left, but I have never ever left in the middle of a movie because I always think that the movie will get better, but it didn't. I love slow movies (Bergman is one of my favorite directors) and I love long movies (I love David Lean's Doctor Zhivago and Tarantino's Once Upon a Time in Hollywood), but this was too much because the movie feels empty and pretentious.

All the characters (with the exception of the one who plays Sonya in the play) are unsympathetic, so it's very difficult to feel for them. The parts from Chekhov's play are brilliant (but that's Chekhov, not Murakami and not Hamaguchi). Drive My Car is an Ode to theatre (bravo), to sex (meh) and to infidelity (ew!).

I cannot believe that this movie has got 4 Oscar nominations and masterpieces like El buen patrón (The Good Boss) didn't get nominated. That says a lot about the decline and the want-to-be artistic of the Oscars.

I give 1 point for Chekhov, 1 for the Japanese landscapes and 1 for the character who plays Sonya in the play. And I would like my money and my 3 hours back. 3/10.

The acting is fair. The rhythm despite its 3 hours is well hammered (I did not feel anything past while I tend to get bored quickly). The aesthetics of the image are surprising (despite some images somewhat reminiscent of the 80s).

I am touched by the poetry that emanates from the film. Everything has been thought of to embark the spectator in a nostalgic hypnosis, soft and above all full of love and empathy.

Best movie of 2021 so far.

Drive My Car, nominated for Best Picture, Best Director, Best International Feature Film, and Best Adapted Screenplay at the 94th Academy Awards, is a critically acclaimed Japanese melodrama. The story revolves around four key characters. Protagonist Kafuku Yusuke is a renowned actor and theater director with a calm and quiet demeanor who is shocked to discover that his wife has a sexual relationship with a much younger man. His wife Oto is a creative and expressive mind who conceives ideas for her screenwriting while and after having sex. Young actor Takatsuki Koji seems to have a self-confident swagger but starts questioning his whole existence after a relationship with a minor destroys his career and leads to excessive media coverage. Watari Misaki is a young woman who suffered mental and physical abuse from her unstable mother in Hokkaido and started a new life as driver in Hiroshima. This movie explores the relationships between some of these characters and deals with overcoming challenges in general and processing loss in particular.

This movie convinces on several levels. First and foremost, the aforementioned characters are authentic, detailed and profound. Viewers will discover more about them with every single scene and care about their fates. Especially their flaws make it easy to empathize or even sympathize with them.

The acting performances are also very convincing. Especially the actresses truly deliver the goods. Kirishima Reika shines in the opening of the movie as free-spirited, imaginative and mysterious screenwriter. The very best performance might however come from Miura Toko as skilled driver in an identity crisis who doesn't speak much thoughout the film but transmits many emotions through precise body language in general and subtle facial expressions in particular.

Drive My Car is filled with many artistic, intellectual and philosophical references. This goes along with the artistic, creative and expressive characters. Samuel Beckett's Waiting for Godot is particularly referenced in the beginning while Anton Chekhov's Uncle Vanya receives much attention through the movie's middle section and ending. It also is no coincidence that the movie's setting shifts from downtown Tokyo to Hiroshima and its rural surroundings. Attentive viewers will also realize that the closing scene takes place in South Korea. These numerous subtle elements are complemented by an elegant soundtrack featuring classical music and the use of a red Sab 900 that represents individualism and nostalgia in a time of colletivism and change. This movie offers much to discover for an intellectual audience and is worth being viewed on several occasions to discover new facets.

The film is however not without its flaws. The running time of three hours includes a few minor lengths here and there. Especially the introduction that takes more than forty minutes before the opening credits appear could have been shortened a little bit. Some of the theater play practises and sequences also overstay their welcome and can at times be somewhat pretentious with passages featuring numerous foreign languages from Korean sign language to Taiwanese Mandarin.

At the end of the day, Drive My Car is a melodrama with emotional depth and intellectual details. This timeless film should please anyone looking for profound dramas built upon authentic characters. Patient viewers will be rewarded with a story that resonates long after the movie has ended.

Hamaguchi is an expert on dialogue: it feels vivid, provocative and thoughtful. He wants to make us think in life choices, relationships and how do we show what we really feel. "If" is the question mark always present that make us think about all the different ways and possibilities in life. How we treat the others. They way they see us and our actions. How do we want to be seen.

I would like to have love Drive My Car as much as most people. I think it is a good film, but just that. I think is way overlong - and you feel it -, I think that some plots are probably unnecessary and that it develops in a very predictable way. I also think it's not the best film of the director this year, even if it will stay with me for some time.

Brace yourself for a long, slow-burn, three-hour sitting as Drive My Car meanders through complex layers of dialogue, emotions, mental anguish and road trips. Entertaining - it is not, but as art form, it is right up there among the best - beautiful cinematography, sensitive directing, an engaging screenplay, comprehensive editing (thumbs up to director Ryûsuke Hamaguchi for avoiding the use of flashback scenes) and the brilliant performance of a multi-lingual cast. There is so much to digest here.

I enjoyed the movie but 3 hours is just ridiculous. There were so many pauses in the story where nothing NOTHING happened! Some beautiful moments however when the story is moving at a steady pace and I can see how it would be an amazing film if only it had been done in half the time.

This is a sober, realistic, intelligent film, and as such it probably will not connect with a mass audience, but the intelligentsia loves it (top film of the year from both NY and LA Film Critics). It is an examination of love, loss, communication, and the value of art, as seen through the life of a serious actor/director. The performances are very low key, and there is hardly any music or visual pyrotechnics. Unlike most films, in this one much of the serious action takes place in the past, and what happens onscreen is the characters coming to terms - or not - with the difficult realities of their lives.

Even though the middle section does feel uneventful and there are plenty of scenes that could use some cutting, it is still a great film. The attention to detail is very precise. There are so many little moments or sentences that do have a reference or a consequence much much later on and I'm very happy that it doesn't have any kinds of flashbacks or anything that Hollywood movies would do. The whole film is full of seemingly unimportant stuff happening which unexpectedly leads to something bigger. It does for sure take its time but does feel like a very clever and genuine film.

Drive My Car is brilliantly able to breathe and function as its own living thing. The movie acts like a fluid that permeates your body and sticks with you, whether destructive or illuminating. The film follows theater actor Kafuku, who after the death of his wife, moves to Hiroshima. The expedition is depressing yet authentic, and the way the film explores the emotion is powerful.

For starters, the thematic lens that the film encompasses is done with such elegance. After the death of his wife, Kafuku treated his car as a symbol of grief and freedom. Moving to Hiroshima, he reluctantly accepts the driver Misaki to take him to rehearsals for his Uncle Vanya play. The tapes he would play of his wife, Oto, speaking corresponding lines maintain Kafuku's composure and well-being. The car is then initially used as a coping mechanism, to suppress the vulnerability from one's trauma. Kafuku's stoicism is what blocks his true self. Much like his adherence to the script during rehearsals, Yûsuke believes conformity is required to move forward. But through the connection with his driver Misaki, Kafuku changes his perception.

Misaki as her internal struggles, as she too flees her home in an escape from trauma. By observing Kafuku's rehearsals and the mutual interactions in the car, a strong connection between Misaki and Kafuku is formed. The car transforms into an empathy machine, where both characters, through specific nuances, can express their discrete nature and guilt. I must give praise to all the performances but Nishijima as Kafuku and Miura as Watari are both incredible. Their chemistry builds as each scene and day goes on, where it's hard to believe this is even a movie.

I love the way Yamaguchi conveys the opening of the heart through feeling rather than language. Kafuku's play assembles a cast of actors from various places that speak different languages. While not understanding one another verbally, they acknowledge sentiments psychologically. Acting itself can communicate feelings far more powerfully than language alone. Once Kafuku reaches his final catharsis, an astounding liberation of concealment arises.

The subject permeates onto the cinematography of Hidetoshi Shinomiya. Wide shots of bridges connect Yûsuke and Misaki of their internal griefs and mutual respect; long takes of character faces slowly breaking down their inner-self honor what the film generalizes about self-expression. Drive My Car is an honest insight into the conflict of oneself, and I hope to see it again soon.

'Drive My Car (2021)' is a film about an ex-actor who is directing a multilingual play that brings back painful memories. The film's plot summary actually spoils something which happens about forty minutes into the three-hour affair and I find it kind of hard to talk about the narrative without doing the same. This element is vital to the set-up of the story, so it isn't too detrimental if you're aware of it going in. However, if you don't know (and don't want to know) anything about the picture, I suggest you stop reading here and go watch it first. Around the forty minute mark, our protagonist comes home to find his wife dead. The story then picks up two years later as he grapples with his loss while putting on the same play he was starring in at the time of the tragedy. In any other movie (and even the source material), the forty-minute pre-title sequence would've been omitted, either excised entirely or interspersed throughout the rest of the runtime as flashbacks. This would have preserved some of the narrative's now-lost enigmatic nature, making for a movie in which we find ourselves aligned with the people the protagonist decides to open up to (we would learn his past whenever he decides to reveal it to his companions). While it perhaps feels counterintuitive to have the protagonist reiterate rather than reveal, it's actually a rather deft move that ensures that we're always in the shoes of the reserved lead character (who's in pretty much every scene). It isn't always what he says that's important (to an extent), it's who he says it to and, even, the very fact that he decides to say it at all. Besides, the movie has several genuine surprises - most of which come from supporting characters, further placing us in the same headspace as the protagonist - and an emotional payoff that relies on a couple of key bits of previously internal information being made explicitly external in an effort to achieve catharsis. Having an extended prologue also gives the audience time to get to grips with the somewhat unconventional relationship between the protagonist and his wife. It makes her an actual character, too, and gives us tangible memories to go along with the various mentions she receives throughout the rest of the piece. As we get closer to the climax, we get further from her presence; our experience of remembering her mirrors that of the protagonist, albeit over two hours instead of two years. The opening movement is essential in establishing this subtle but significant difference between this picture and most others that deal with similar themes of loss, grief, guilt and catharsis. Another major theme of the movie is communication. The play that the lead is directing is comprised of actors who each use a different language, leading to several sequences that are dedicated to conversations which require translation (some of which provide a welcome showcase for sign language). This acts as a counterpoint to the flick's exploration of the lack of communication between people who speak the same language. This absence is evident almost from the start of the feature, and its importance becomes abundantly clear by the movie's end. Our protagonist typically keeps to himself, as does his quietly confident driver. Yet, their relationship slowly evolves into one that's as honest and complete as it can possibly be, filled with genuine trust and affection yet filtered through a constantly reserved lens. It's the sort of relationship in which silence is never awkward. It takes time for it to evolve into what it ultimately becomes, though, and that's arguably why it is so compelling. Things perhaps become ever-so-slightly too overt towards the finale, but the movie remains realistic and authentic right to the end. Its emotional climax is surprisingly affecting, and there's something quietly engrossing about the entire affair. It is undeniably long, yet it never feels especially indulgent or drawn-out. Though the story it is based on is only about 40 pages long, it doesn't feel artificially padded at all. Granted, its emotional punch could still have been achieved with a lower runtime, but it isn't always about the destination. In fact, the whole film resembles the sort of slow, steady yet relaxing drive that the protagonist values so much. It's about existing in the space between destinations, valuing the time it takes to get from A to B. At one point, a character says that the protagonist and his wife both respect the details of the stories they're involved in. This, in a sense, is a meta commentary about the movie as a whole. It's a film full of nuances and subtleties, both in terms of its compelling writing and its second-to-none performances. It strikes a balance between the overt and the enigmatic, with some of its elements never being made explicit (how some of its verbal stories relate to the plot, if at all, is up to you). Even those elements that are definitive require your absolute attention to fully appreciate. It's a really rewarding experience, even though it does require a bit of patience and can initially seem daunting due to its length. To be honest, it really doesn't feel as long as it is. It doesn't move quickly, but it moves confidently and with purpose. It's an affecting and oddly calming experience that rarely puts a foot wrong. 7/10.

Actor and theatre director Kafuku discovers a secret about his wife, and when he fails to confront her, regret eats away at his soul. Some time later, he is assigned a young woman driver on a project in Hiroshima, and her own tale of regret opens up a space for him to finally confront his feelings.

There is a lot to admire about Drive My Car, but the runtime is not one of them. The critics claiming the three hours flash by unnoticed are being disingenuous. The gentle pace of the film feels organic in the first half, as Hamaguchi allows motives and emotions to gradually reveal themselves. But the second half flags, reviving only in the final 20 minutes, and the story ultimately is one that could have been told in under 120 minutes. Going way beyond that is simply self-indulgence by the director.

It is a major flaw, but not a fatal one. The performances are outstanding, especially Toko Miura as Watari, the young woman assigned to drive Kafuku. She politely but steadfastly resists the attempts of the older, higher status Kafuku to power harass her out of her role. Kafuku, to his credit, is prescient enough to accept Misaki, then gradually warm to her. The carefully crafted structured absence of Kafuku's wife is felt in every scene, but it is the more subtly depicted structured absence of his daughter that proves telling in his opening up to Watari. Had his daughter lived, she and Watari would be the same age.

The film poses questions and avoids easy answers. When Kafuku casts his wife's lover in an unlikely role, is he simply out to torture the young man for revenge? Or does he have an elaborate plan to achieve closure? Can a multinational, multilingual cast really provide a cathartic rendering of 'Uncle Vanya'? Undercutting all this fine-tuned drama are scenes where characters reveal themselves in a rush of exposition. The film also indulges in sentimentality at times, such as Kafuku's visit to his Korean collaborator's home for dinner, where a secret is cloyingly revealed.

A Japanese film with prominent Korean, Taiwanese and other Asian characters is to be applauded. And the inclusion of a Korean mute actress (a mesmeric outing from Park Yoo-rim) who delivers her lines in sign language in especially intriguing. That casting choice proves vital in the cathartic final scenes. However, it is less iconoclastic than some critics claim, given that Iwai Shunji's 'Swallowtail Butterfly' pushed the boundaries of on-screen Japaneseness and linguistic mixing almost three decades ago.

The car, both visually and as a space for the characters to interact, is a casting masterstroke in its own right. The shot of the two main characters holding their cigarettes aloft has sent some critics into raptures, but it is hyperbolic. The constant dialogue with a cassette tape is, however, hypnotic.

Lots to admire then, but also too many detracting elements. A decent enough film, but by no means the masterpiece many claim it to be.