Drive is voilent and rough but in a fetishized way, and, in the end, the violence is besides the point, though I could understand wanting to walk out because of its verging on flagrant gratuitousness. (If you think you want real violence, see Irreversible instead.) Yet it survives its own caricatures because it doesn't blink away the question of manhood. The extra-textual hot-pink lettering and an 80s soundtrack that would simultaneously feel at home in a German nightclub at 4am as it would in Miami, mixed with a smile from The Goz when he's not busy making things bleed reminds us that being a Man is full of all sorts of confused expectations. As an action movie for dudes, it's about a B-, but as a metaphor for living in the metaphor of L.A., it's an A.
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