A Real Hero: An Archetypal Reading of DRIVE
**THERE WILL BE SPOILERS FOR DRIVE THROUGHOUT- YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED**
The prevalence of archetypes in fictional storytelling underscores the universality of common characters, objects, and symbols across human cultures. Almost any story that we can think of uses archetypal elements, some more than others. Drive, a 2011 neo-noir film, in many ways tells a very archetypal story, described by its director as a fairytale set in contemporary Los Angeles. However, while drawing on many archetypes, it also subverts four major stages of the hero’s journey that we find in most stories and Hollywood films, making Drive a compelling example of what happens when classic archetypes are updated to redefine the cinematic hero for the modern age.
The story of Drive revolves around an unnamed man (simply listed as Driver in the credits) who works by day as a mechanic and stuntman and by night as a getaway driver. He is a mysterious figure who doesn’t say much and shows little emotion, following in the footsteps of western antiheros like Clint Eastwood’s “Man with no name” characters. Nevertheless, Driver is set up as the protagonist of the story (albeit one with a shady moral code), who the audience is meant to take a liking to. As with many heroes, the beginning of the story sees Driver living a relatively ordinary existence (apart from the getaway driving) where he just goes about his normal day-to-day routine. Unlike the traditional hero’s journey though, there is no inciting incident that immediately presses Driver into action. For the entire first act, Driver does not have a quest or goal that he needs to accomplish. Instead, a chance encounter with his new neighbors, a woman named Irene and her son Benicio, makes Driver want to give up his double life and settle down with them. Though it is never spoken of, Irene and Driver quickly fall in love, as communicated nonverbally by the gentle smiles and warm glances they share with each other in moments of silence (and a beautiful close-up of Irene locking hands with Driver one night). Irene and Driver’s romantic attachment to one another peaks when Driver takes Irene and Benicio on a late afternoon drive home, signaled by Driver’s “theme song” (College & Electric Youth’s “A Real Hero”) playing on the soundtrack. If nothing else happened at this point in the story, Driver would be completely content with the way things are. He has given up his old ways and now possesses his boon- a loving relationship with Irene and Benicio. A little later on, this will retrospectively represent the stage of initiation for Driver, because it is Driver’s blossoming romance with Irene that will set his journey as the hero into motion.
Conflict is interjected when Irene’s husband, Standard, is released from prison and returns home. This seems to be the end of Driver and Irene’s relationship- at least romantically speaking- as visually illustrated by a brilliant shot of Driver standing in a hallway looking off-screen at Irene as Standard’s shadow is cast against the wall in the background, his presence looming over Driver. Standard is the rival, whose entrance into the story puts Irene in a tricky spot stuck between these two men, with Driver on one side and Standard on the other. But unlike in fairytales where the hero would have to have to defeat his rival, the exact opposite happens here, as Driver and Irene are willing to accept the fact that they can’t be together in the same way as before. Things take a turn when Driver finds out that Standard owes a lot of protection money from his time in prison, and Standard says that if he doesn’t pay up, the thugs will harm Irene and Benicio next. This is the moment of recognition for Driver, representing his call to duty. In offering his services as a getaway driver to help Standard rob a pawn shop and obtain the money, Driver takes on the task of the white knight from traditional fairytales, whose quest is to protect and save Irene and Benicio, the proverbial “damsels in distress,” from any potential danger. Once again though, this stage of the hero’s journey is turned on its head, as the heist goes wrong, Standard is killed, and Driver, Irene, and Benicio become submerged in the criminal underworld where their lives are no longer safe. The journey continues, but only because the quest has initially failed.
The remainder of Driver’s journey as the hero finds him trying to get himself, Irene, and Benicio out of this perilous situation as they are being hunted down by two mobsters (since they are the only ones who knew about the heist and the stolen money). The key scene happens about three-quarters of the way through the film, replacing what would normally be the stage of the hero’s ordeal, death, and rebirth with a moment of brutal honesty and revelation. Driver and Irene are in an elevator with another man, who Driver, by catching a glimpse of a gun concealed in the man’s suit, recognizes is a hitman who has been sent to kill them. As Driver realizes this, he takes Irene, and in one of the only instances of intimate contact we see between the two of them, he passionately kisses her, before proceeding to disarm the hitman and kill him by repeatedly stomping his head in. This scene is where the story transitions from romance into tragedy. Prior to this, Irene knew nothing of Driver’s violent tendencies or what he is capable of doing. Right when Driver sees the gun, he knows that this is the final time that he and Irene will be able to be together. Driver makes the conscious decision to cross the threshold that will keep him forever in the Special World; there is no going back to the Ordinary World after this. Thus, he kisses her right before he is forced to reveal his true nature to her. The scene ends with a shot of the elevator door closing as Irene looks on in shock from the outside, followed by a cut to the scorpion jacket on Driver’s back (a jacket that he wears throughout most of the film). This edit signifies that Driver, thinking that he was the white knight, is actually a scorpion, who has stung Irene and left her without anyone to look after her and Benicio. Driver realizes that from this point forward, he will have to unleash the inherent darkness inside of him that he has been trying to suppress if he wants to save Irene and Benicio.
The end of the film is where the subversion of the hero’s journey really comes into clarity, as Driver kills the two mobsters who were after him, meaning that Irene and Benicio are officially safe and out of harm’s way. Driver will never be able to be with Irene though, which is why the completion of his journey feels tragic, even though he has triumphed over his foes. Driver’s quest of protecting Irene and Benicio has been fulfilled, but since he can’t be with them, there is no ultimate boon for Driver. As one of the mobsters, Bernie Rose, tells him, for the rest of his life, Driver will be “looking over his shoulder,” and he won’t be able to lead a normal life ever again. The final image of the film is a shot of Driver driving off into the night, suggesting that he is forever destined to remain on a road with no clear destination in sight. Despite this, the ending also manages to feel strangely hopeful and uplifting, mainly because we are relieved that Driver is still alive. In the last scene, the camera holds on Driver staring off into the distance for what seems like an eternity before he finally blinks, and his “theme song,” “A Real Hero,” returns as the sendoff coda. This cathartic cue is where we, as the audience, are meant to understand the purpose of the song in the narrative, and more importantly, the point of the entire film. Even though any possibility of the relationship between Driver and Irene is long gone, Driver learned how to become (as the song states) “a real human being and a real hero” in the process of protecting and saving Irene and Benicio, alluded to by a parting phone call Driver leaves for Irene where he says, “I just want you to know, getting to be around you and Benicio was the best thing that ever happened to me.”
In concluding Driver’s story by merging the optimistic ending of the hero’s journey with the fatalistic worldview of noir, Drive acquires an existential dimension. It effectively modernizes fairytales for the 21st century, demonstrating that life can be full of both longing and goodness, often at the same time. With its disruption of the traditional hero’s journey, the film expresses that although we may never be able to entirely break out of the mold of who we have been determined to be because of our nature, we can still find redemption in our lives, even if we never receive any visible, extrinsic affirmation. Culturally, we have romanticized heroes as these perfect, larger-than-life figures who have extraordinary abilities and are revered for going above and beyond what normal citizens can do to help good overcome evil. “Heroes,” under that definition though, do not exist and never have. The world is not black and white, but even so, ordinary heroism still occurs every day. Of course as a pulpy genre film, Drive is not meant to be taken as a literal representation of reality, but what is important about it is the deeper message about heroism and humanity that it communicates through its main character’s arc. Like Driver, each of us is capable of finding an internal sense of peace and becoming our best selves through the genuine human connections we form with the people we deeply care about. Each of us is capable of being a real hero.