Kalpit Tandon’s review published on Letterboxd:
Drive My Car has an undeniable power with a capacity to render emotionally crippling effects. It deals in heavy existential punches while reciting a tale of an adrift widower – always dressed in a sorrowful black – deeply pained by self induced torment so much so that he has become an island onto himself. Hamaguchi’s central character is but a walking shadow, one who finds solace in art (blurring line between reality and fiction to survive) and in his monotonous reciting of Chekhov’s play – all this while craving for a deliverance from his misery.
Ryusuke Hamaguchi’s magnum opus is a searing intimate epic involving souls hemorrhaged by loss and riddled with regrets. The unstated always lingers on the edge of lips, eyes gloomily drooping to the grounds as concepts of acceptance/forgiveness are shrouded in obscurity. Drive My Car is a multi-layered enigmatic slow burn with a lot on its mind and coupled with a breathtaking third act, it provides heart wrenching returns.