Drive ★★★

In as much as this is a movie about a driver who drives and driving in general, as both an occupation and means of efficient conveyance from one place to another, this is a movie about a jacket. The white one, with the gold scorpion embroidered on the back. It’s worn by the main character (named “The Driver” in the credits) whose navigational prowess is established in the first scene, and because the car he drives in that scene is a Chevy Impala (which was selected for its ubiquity and therefore potency in avoiding detection as a getaway car) you pay attention to the more aesthetically pronounced aspects of the frame. His leather driving gloves, the analogue watch he affixes to the steering wheel, the tooth pick, and the jacket. After a while the jacket comes to iconify the driver as a stoic hero, a soft-spoken individualist who seems nice enough but you’re certain he’d recoil when provoked — the scorpion, remember, which seems to emblazon his virtues as a custodian of moral injustice.

Anyway, the font the credits are set in remains my favorite part of this movie.