Drive My Car

There were quite a few new releases at my favorite art house theater this weekend but Drive My Car has received so much critical acclaim lately (including the Golden Globe for best foreign language film) that it was on the top of my list last night.  Yusuke Kafuku (Hidetoshi Nishijima), a theater actor and director, and Oto (Reika Kirishima), a television screenwriter, are a married couple with a complicated relationship living in Tokyo.  He eventually discovers that she is having an affair with a young actor named Koji Takatsuki (Masaki Okada) but he chooses to ignore it and rebuffs her attempt to discuss it.  When she dies unexpectedly of a brain hemorrhage, he takes a job directing a multilingual version of the play Uncle Vanya by Anton Chekhov at a prestigious festival in Hiroshima.  He requests accommodation an hour away because it is his practice to review his lines by listening to a cassette tape of the play recorded by Oto while driving but, for liability reasons, the festival organizers insist that he have a driver at all times and hire Misaki Watari (Toko Miura), a taciturn young woman who is also mourning the death of a loved one, to drive him.  Yusuke casts his wife's lover to play Vanya, a role he once played to acclaim but can't bring himself to reprise because of the emotional weight of it, and rehearsals are fraught with tension.  As Misaki drives Yusuke to and from rehearsal, they help each other to live with their guilt and grief.  This film is three hours long, with a slow and meditative pace, but there is so much to unpack that I hardly noticed.  I was absolutely captivated by the use of Uncle Vanya as a symbol for the regret Yusuke and Misaki feel about the death of their loved ones, the use of Yusuke's Saab 900 as a symbol of both sanctuary and escape, and the use of multiple languages within the play as a symbol for the understanding the characters seek.  I loved the emotionally restrained performances of Nishijima and Miura because their journey to self-discovery and healing is all the more poignant when it happens.  I also loved the ethereal mood of this film and the many profound silences that permeate it, including a scene where Yusuke and Misaki simply hold their lit cigarettes out of a sunroof in a moment of solidarity that needs no dialogue.  I loved this film so much and highly recommend it because it is definitely a journey worth taking.