Film review: ‘Baby Driver’

Not since Reese Witherspoon pronounced the word in “Walk the Line” has the term of affection “Baby” been uttered so frequently and with such style as in “Baby Driver.” What’s more, Witherspoon’s June Carter cooed the words “baby baby baby baby” at Johnny Cash, who wore sunglasses almost as fresh as those sported by Baby (Ansel Elgort) in Edgar Wright’s rousing new picture.

Baby is a partially deaf and fully precocious getaway driver for Doc (Kevin Spacey), a heist mastermind who employs a revolving set of bagmen (his only prerequisite for participation seems to be neck tattoos). But why always Baby? Because, when he pops headphones into his ears from one of many bespoke iPods, his performance is flawless. And, even better from Doc’s perspective, Baby doesn’t keep a full share of the loot - thanks to an earlier indiscretion, he is in a sort of indentured servitude. Spacey sinks his teeth into his rat-a-tat noir boss lines like this one regarding Baby: “He’s got the hum in the drum.”

He is speaking then to a pair of thieves called Buddy (Jon Hamm) and Darling (Eiza González), who bestow questionable career advice to Baby and a lot of full tongue kisses to each other. A more concerning partner is Bats (a fearsome Jamie Foxx) who manages to look menacing even in a sweater embroidered to look like an enormous King of Hearts playing card. As one character notes, all his stories end with someone dying and he comfortably states about himself, “I do drugs to support my robbery habit.”

Baby finds some asylum in Joseph (CJ Jones), his deaf foster father, and Debora (Lily James), a juke joint waitress on whom Baby has a big crush. We’re contented to learn he has an ace retirement plan in place as an extremely well-tipped pizza delivery guy. But we also know there is always one more job after that one last job when you’re working for a guy like Doc.

The film’s rugged violence and lightning-quick choreography is sharp but familiar - Wright’s great leap forward is in sound design. Everything onscreen moves to sounds in Baby’s ears, from the actors’ twitches to the car flips to the frequent drumbeat of bullets. And to think, it’s all happening through those tinny iPod earbuds.

There is a marvelous moment when a small glitch in the heist itinerary causes Baby and crew a short delay and he must rewind a song to re-sync with his rigorous getaway choreography. Wright achieves moments where Baby’s need for escape and his audience’s appetite for escapism totally align.

In some aspects, Wright overplays his stacked hand - there are unnecessarily repeated depictions of Baby’s childhood trauma (one wants more from Sky Ferreira, who plays his mother in flashbacks) and his getaway fantasy with Deborah - finned Cadillacs and poodle-skirts - is standard ‘50s kitsch.

Wright is better keeping it fresh and exceeding other car-bound contemporary gangster pictures with new ideas. “Baby Driver” shares a one line synopsis similarity to Nicholas Winding Refn’s “Drive” but, when Doc gives Baby driving gloves reminiscent of Ryan Gosling’s in that film, they’re coyly tossed into a scrapped vehicle.

There are also elements of Michael Mann’s “Heat,” with shootouts on the run and heavy conversations in diners and the idea that you must always be ready to speed away from your life in 30 seconds flat... with a great tune in your ears.

The good news for Wright is that he suffers from too many good ideas not too few. But perhaps some darlings could be killed, the beats could come a little closer together and the scripts could be tightened to under 100 minutes (while still going 100 miles per hour).