Ryan Gosling in this the foundation for my taste in men, angelic beauties with gorgeous jackets pulverised by violence and oil. even after years of not seeing it, I remembered it all so clearly. Gosling’s one of the great living non verbal communicators in acting and I’m not sure he’s ever showcased that better than in the elevator scene, where he embraces all of his pent up emotions for both romantic lust and sadistic aggression, truly losing himself in feeling for the first time. just about every film boy of my generation and the one right before mine had this as a pivotal text a decade ago, and it’s still one for me now. the only one of Refn’s movies where there’s a beating heart of love and something to fight for at the end of the desolate highways. will cling onto that initial Nightcall needle drop for the rest of my life.