Drive My Car stands at a daunting three-hour runtime, exploring the intricacies of grief and intimacy through unassuming protagonists. Ryûsuke Hamaguchi’s epic adaptation of Haruki Murakami’s short story weaves together a tale defined by death and misdirection into two distinctly confined settings: a multilingual theater performance of Uncle Vanya and a vintage red Saab. With restraint, Hamaguchi removes the barrier between people, giving an incredibly touching glimpse of real empathy.
The film follows the principal character, Yûsuke—a middle-aged actor and director who suffers a devastating loss near the beginning of the movie—as he returns to the stage. During his theater residency, he is required to hire a driver, 23-year-old Misaki. Yûsuke (Hidetoshi Nishijima) and Misaki (Tôko Miura) spend countless hours together, silently passing through the streets of Hiroshima while Yûsuke practices lines with a tape recording of his late wife. Within the silence, an unlikely intimate friendship emerges between Misaki and Yûsuke. The bond acts as a catalyst for the two principal characters to shed the veil, illustrating a rare yet uniquely beautiful form of self-discovery. The film follows quiet exchanges within the Saab, and all along, the world is passing by the window.
Drive My Car is a quiet marvel that challenges connection, solitude, and healing without jostling the viewer enough to become uncomfortable. The film mesmerizes the viewer with scenes of renewal, intoxicating vulnerability, and shocking anguish that at its core are severely human. Near the middle of the film, Yûsuke compliments Misaki’s driving, saying, “She speeds up and slows down so smoothly, I hardly feel gravity. Sometimes I forget I’m in a car.” Despite the exhaustive qualities of life, Hamaguchi’s film shows that it will remain beautiful, and viewers will forget that they are not in the red Saab, and instead, they’re together, watching a movie. 179 min.
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