Baby Driver ★★★½

Edgar Wright would have never fit the 70s New Wave: he belongs at Warners in the 30s. Baby Driver colors inside the lines, but this is a stark contrast from other recent Hollywood films praised being "different enough." He wants the image on screen to matter more than the cultural conversation that occurs afterwards. He's rather cast a David Byrne than a emotive performance (perhaps to a slight detriment when the gears change). He wants to create tone and rhythm and pace - a movie with individual parts instead of a smoothed out surface. Car chases move more like Bollywood dance numbers than action scenes - with each car composed like an individual sari. He's a genuine dork, showing off his collection of tunes, jokes, and movie homages, but he always wants you in on it all with him. He wants to be obvious: a dissolve swims from a washer to a record, the characters move their feet right on tempo to the beat, and that first smile means love. Wright genuinely has no interest in subverting the Hollywood cinema; he just wants to remember all the details of why he fell in love with movies in the first place.