Drive My Car (2021)
in Movies ·
Lisa Cox4 said:This totally knocked me out. 😬
And another thing, I spent the entire time feeling this weird sense of sleaziness toward him, so I ended up finding a review later that describes it perfectly, so I'll just drop a snippet of it here:
"I have this one issue with Haruki Murakami and film adaptations of his work. It's not that I have a problem with all his books and their screen versions—the silly, magical-realist ones are great. But when he writes meditatively, clearly from a personal and emotional perspective, his relationship with women creates this discomfort. Sure, he's sensitive, intellectual, progressive, and sexually positive, but he's obsessed with sex in a way that feels greasy and awkward. He always manages to mystify the fact that women communicate with his male characters through sex, and then takes such a mundane, everyday reality and turns it into some grand, divine experience for his male protagonists. This gives them these subtle, layered qualities, while the woman who 'awakened' him sexually remains nothing more than a nostalgic memory—a tool used to turn him into a real man."
That was exactly how I felt at the start of 'Drive My Car,' that highly acclaimed adaptation of a Haruki Murakami story directed by Ryusuke Hamaguchi, which isn't just competing for an Oscar for Best International Feature this year, but is also in the running for three other 'big' Oscars—for directing, adapted screenplay, and Best Picture. Right from those opening frames, I spotted that classic Murakami obsession, which is pretty much the obsession of all his male readers too. 'Here we are, naked and in a sexual frenzy, and now because sex is so transcendentally fantastic, my beautiful partner is going to grant me something special.' In this specific case, we're looking at a married couple where the wife, right after sex and still riding that post-orgasmic hormonal high, tells her husband these strange, interesting stories. She's a writer—she writes scripts for TV dramas and uses these stories for them—but the unexpected twist is that she doesn't remember these stories the next day, so he has to retell them to her, often adding his own commentary and suggestions.
I mean, seriously, thank God I didn't throw my dinner at the screen. Murakami & Hamaguchi, please, stop trying to intellectualize and mystify your sexism. It's like a woman can't be creative without having sex with her man, and then, being the inferior poor soul that she is, once his killer sexual magnetism wears off, she can't even remember her own creative outbursts and has to turn back to the source of all her creative power—her man. It's gross.
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What kind of clichés about women and sex are these? What disgusting, sleazy nonsense!
Nobody is exploiting anyone; there is nothing sleazy about this!
Sex isn't even the point of the film... nor is it dominant?
There aren't even many sex scenes... sex is used only as much as necessary to develop the plot and show the issues in their relationships.
The film is actually about alienation within the main characters' relationship; sex is more of a tool the heroine "uses" to "say" something, rather than being used by "macho" men in the movie.
Why all this dissecting over sex when the film isn't chauvinistic, nor does it degrade or belittle women in any bad way?
The film is undeniably solid and gripping... easily one of the better pieces of true ART cinema I've seen in the last five or six years.
I'd give it at least an 8.