A beautiful, art-deco-ish opening credit sequence, set to beguiling bossa-nova flavored music, seems to promise something unusually quirky and allusive. For ten or fifteen minutes that still seems possible, before the movie - through a lame kidnapper-hostage love story - descends into astonishing predictability, and takes on a kind of joyless, sombre melancholy. The very short running time seems like a simple surrender, and falls far short of the feminine self-validation that's apparently intended. The saddest thing is that even if the movie had achieved what seem to be its goals, you'd still shrug at it.
Review of Drive, She Said
