Drive My Car

Drive My Car ★★★★½

the multilingual theater style kept bringing me back to the workshop sequence in Hamaguchi's HAPPY HOUR: "the sound of your guts 🥺"
Both use the basis of physical space and energy between bodies as being a more powerful emotional signifier than language itself. Despite his brilliant sharp writing, I'm increasingly convinced Hamaguchi's films operate the same way on some level. The man never met a car ride he didn't want to sit in on, or a concrete platform where people aren't socially blocked from each other so precisely.
There's too much going on here to properly appraise it, but I'll say its weakest (still strong as hell) moments for me stem from what is ostensibly the central 'grief' narrative(s) of the film, but it's practically tertiary considering the presence of each scene. Anyways someone please buy me a red Saab 900-turbo please and we can go driving on a beautiful island together

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