Drive, Baby, Drive! Drive, Drive, Drive!

I’m all in on the cult of “Baby Driver!”

(Image property of Working Title Pictures)

It’s everything a summer movie is supposed to be: thrill-ride meets crime caper, with surprisingly likable, relatable, and broadly-drawn characters who have clear-cut, simple life aspirations… and supported by an incredible soundtrack.

“Baby Driver” is great summer movie fare and, I suspect, especially for those people trapped in this increasingly reviled and rightfully lampooned social construct called “The Millenials.”

This is a “Millenials” movie.

I—who would probably pegged as a member of the so-called “Gen X” tribe (although, I could care less what bucket you put me in, only “Millenials” care about the social class some stranger segments them into for marketing and demographic purposes)—have noticed that one of the biggest problems so-called Millenials have today is that they were born into a time and age when everything they did as clueless young people is digitally recorded, stored, and remixed, by friends and strangers for jokes, profit, and research — forever. Of course, one of the problems here is: they made the recordings!

And this permanent record can be used against you—forever.

Well, this constant logging of mundane life events comes into play in the movie, in a huge way. So, even if you make the inevitable youthful mistakes in life (and record them) — if you encounter any properly-motivated villains — you may be forced to keep paying for these youthful stumbles, again and again and again, in a life of perpetual servitude.

“Baby” is the nom-de-plume, the codename, for the star of this movie (his real name is ‘M****,’ you’ll have to see the movie to find out), and his only job is to be the getaway man on a series of elaborately-planned, high-stakes armed robberies: he is the driver in all of these massive crimes—but a non-violent accomplice.

The movie is a slick, high-energy action crime drama, populated with a half-dozen big-talking, blustery bad guys and gals, and Baby is up to the task of being their wheelman… because he’s got a big debt to pay to the baddest guy in the room, the mastermind. But Baby’s not really a “criminal” — he just likes boosting cars, because for him it’s a psychological release. His late parents died in a complicated car crash when he was very young, and ever since then, through foster care, he seems to find the act of stealing of cars, and blowing them out a therapeutic and cathartic salve to his constant pain of having a broken family.

And he’s the best driver in the area.

He’s good.

But he also has a saving grace…

Music.

A gift given to him by his late mother, a waitress who was once a singer with immense talent and even larger ambitions.

And a crappy, violent husband.

Even though Baby’s developed massive tinnitus in the crash that eventually killed both of his parents, and ended his hopes of having a normal life, he feels and interprets his world first through music. In fact, he has to play music in order hide the constant ringing of the tinnitus.

He also lives through his relationship with friendly folks, and would-be love interests, who can appreciate music.

All the world is a playlist for Baby.

In the end, it’s the music of life that ultimately will help him see the light.

Fittingly, the film has one of the best and most eclectic and soncially-diverse soundtracks you will ever hear… and some of the best car chase action scenes this side of “Fast & Furious”—to infinity.

I recommend “Baby Driver.”

But, a word to the wise: don’t go in expecting Shakespeare here. It is a summer action flick.

Baby likes to keep things short, sweet and to-the-point… and musical.