Nicolas Winding Refn's Drive is the (insert dream car here) of films. It is beautiful to behold. Every visual surface inch is carefully crafted to achieve a stunning “wow” of appreciation. Just like its star, Ryan Gosling, this film has a sleek body design with cold gears of precision under the hood. This isn’t man vs. machine; this film argues that man should be a machine. A sleek, high performance creation made to run optimally at peak acceleration. Rigged to handle the mean streets of L.A. and, when needed, equipped to rev its muscle full throttle, crushing all road opponents into the pavement. Whether it’s garaged in an art house or grind-house, this film delivers to its attending audience by being arty but not gaudy, powerful but easy to handle, and quiet, but ready to provide a nice rocking soundtrack when demanded. Paced like an illegal street race, Drive starts with a sexy, dare I say, romantic screaming rush of acceleration, provides a smooth speed for the haul, and ends by delivering on the always present threat of a fiery, car apocalypse.