Why Baby Driver Is Important Now More Than Ever
In a sea of endless sequels, superhero sagas, and dystopian films cutting too close to home, comes Baby Driver; a supremely fresh and groovy film by master director Edgar Wright. If you don’t know who Edgar Wright is by now, what are you even doing here? Get the hell off the computer and track down his filmography ASAP, then we’ll talk.
I think it’s safe to say Baby Driver is my favorite film by Edgar Wright. And before it was literally impossible for me to come to a decision about which of his films I loved the most.
I don’t want to spend time comparing it to the Cornetto Trilogy or Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, because let’s be honest —it’s silly comparing or ranking his past films and I’m only here to talk about the brilliance that was Baby Driver. Though I will say that each one of Wright’s films, to me, offers something different to the world and the entertainment industry alike. Each film is original, unique, and showcases a piece of Wright; every project shows us how Wright has grown as a writer and director, and it only makes my heart happy to think about what brilliant things he’ll create next.
Since seeing Baby Driver last night, I realized I hadn’t had so much fun in the cinema in a long, long time. Sure, I cried during the recent release of Wonder Woman and jumped for joy seeing a woman kick so much ass on the big screen, but Baby Driver was different.
It was an explosion of sound, color, and pure adrenaline — not to mention every shot, every song choice, and every set piece was crafted from so much love and passion for storytelling. This feeling, which was a mixture between seeing one of your best friends land their dream job and watching an Olympian race for the gold medal, was contagious throughout the packed theater at my showing.
I’ll be honest, I kind of hate it when people applaud during a film, but I’ll be damned — at my showing, we as an audience cheered for Baby as we followed him on his journey. We applauded his skills and bravado as we watched Mozart in a go-kart wreak havoc to save the girl he loves. I wanted to jump out of my seat after the opening and throw my hands in the air like I was at an Iron Maiden concert. (For the record, and for the sanity of the audience members around me, that did not happen…)
From the first bank heist, all the way to the final penultimate chase scene, the smile on my lips covered almost my entire face. My smile grew with every song that played on Baby’s iPod(s) and every time Baby managed to escape a heist. I think I’ve permanent marionette lines along the sides of my mouth now because I spent almost two hours grinning like I was a kid in a candy shop — a shop full of so many tasty treats, so much to take in and appreciate, that I couldn’t actually pick something, but just stare in wonder for a little while longer.
My showing ended around 10:30 p.m. last night and I almost went back to the box office to purchase another ticket and spend the rest of the night with Baby, no matter how late that was or how early I had to be up the next day for work.
I was walking on air — hell, it still feels like I’m walking on a cloud. I almost drove backwards through L.A. traffic and was tempted to do donuts in a parking lot this morning because I was still thinking about Baby Driver. There’s honestly no greater feeling than when you leave a cinema inspired and that feeling lingers for day, weeks even. A lot of horrible things are happening in this world today, and the point of going to the cinema is to escape, albeit a little while, from the struggles of day-to-day life.
For someone who aspires to tell stories one day, be it on big screen or as children’s books (which to my dismay, I've been desperately writing and re-writing my first one), Baby Driver fueled my almost empty tank with the inspiration it needed. The film gave me hope that it’s possible again to see original stories thriving on the big screen amid the mediocrity of sequels upon sequels; really looking forward to The Minions 17: Lost in Space. I only hope this film inspires other storytellers and filmmakers to create original content and not wait around for opportunities to find them, but to make the opportunities for themselves.
A sincere thank you to Edgar Wright for making something so passionate and fulfilling as Baby Driver. I could write a series of books on what this film means to me and list other reasons why it’s so important, but I’ll stop here. Thank you to everyone who had a part in making one of the best damn films of the year.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I’ll be in the cinema re-watching Baby Driver all week.
