I saw the Nicolas Refn directed / Ryan Gosling starring Drive last night.  For all the praise it's been receiving, I found the film to a moderate disappointment.

I can see the allure.  The movie possesses a very art house, film noir sensibility, the kind that high-minded critics tend to gobble up in spades.  Unfortunately, it's also bogged down by deliberate pacing that proves to be much too deliberate for its own good.  Character development feels sluggish, the introspective, dialogue-free direction coming off as limp and inconsequential.  Gosling plays the role well, but it's not a role I found particularly compelling.  The supporting cast fares better, especially Bryan Cranston (hey, it's Seinfeld's Tim Whatley!) as Gosling's loveable but gullible business partner, and Albert Brooks as a two-faced villain and friend.  Christina Hendricks has a brief but memorable part, and Ron Perlman is typical Perlman at his baddie best.

The film begins to fire on cylinders once the movie shifts from crime heist to revenge flick, with an emphasis on grindhouse style violence.  It's hard hitting and unexpected, which certainly shattered my previously sedated conception of the film.  The tonal shift lends an intriguing edge to the proceedings, even if it's something of a jarring turn.  And that's kind of the problem with Drive; it feels skewered and uneven in its attempt to mash up genres.  The B-movie charm (especially in its music selection) is endearing, and while I admit that certain scenes stayed with me far longer than entire feature lengths this year, it's simply not enough for a cinematically cohesive whole.