By Monday, the co-star of Baby Driver, Kevin Spacey, had been accused of making inappropriate sexual advances on a teenager, and had responded by choosing that moment, after all the years of rumors and coy innuendo in interviews and public appearances, to finally come out as gay. It felt like a self-serving and cynical ploy to deflect, and served up to the bigots of the world that pernicious and offensive stereotype: gay man as pedophile. Meanwhile, there can be little questioning that the accusations against Spacey are true: Netflix reacted immediately by first announcing the final season of House of Cards and then by outright suspending production, and more men came forward over the following days to point the finger at Spacey.
It's not like Baby Driver is what I would call a "Kevin Spacey movie," but there's no doubt in my mind that watching it right now would be a truly compromised experience. And it doesn't help that his character is a rich and powerful criminal who professes a close relationship with the young male protagonist (that isn't reciprocated), and forces him into doing things he doesn't want to do. Yikes. Good luck watching this movie now without thoughts of the real world intruding.
It's unfortunate for everyone else involved in Baby Driver, because it was really great. From writer/director Edgar Wright (of Shaun of the Dead, Hot Fuzz, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World, and more), it's the story of a young, expert getaway driver looking to pull off one last heist so he can pay off his debt and leave the life of crime behind forever. Wright has brought here all the over-the-top action sensibilities of his past movies and somehow amped them up even more.
Music is integral to what he's doing here. Every major sequence of the film is set to a carefully selected song, and meticulously choreographed to fit it and only it. It's an impressive feat that thrills immediately; the first 15 minutes of this film blew me away. First, there's an extended car chase sequence filled with dazzling and clever stunts (performed with real cars). Then there's a mind-boggling credits sequence that follows the protagonist on a lengthy walk through the crowded city streets, all in a single camera take.
The cast is excellent. Ansel Elgort is brilliant in a walled-off, largely non-verbal role, cool as they come while letting emotion show to the audience in subtle ways. (There was a rumor that he was in the running to have played the young Han Solo in the upcoming Star Wars movie. Now I have even higher expectations on who they did cast, because Elgort would have been perfect.) Lily James is a playful and compelling love interest. Jamie Foxx, Jon Hamm, Eiza González, and Jon Bernthal all play scary goons in the heist crew, greatly amping the sense of danger. Foxx in particular plays a wildly unhinged criminal capable of anything, while Hamm channels a cool facade that crumbles completely to uncontrolled rage by the final act.
And... ahem... Kevin Spacey is decent too. But his on-screen performance isn't the one anyone will be thinking of right now when they watch this movie.
I was looking forward to writing a review, giving Baby Driver an A-, and strongly encouraging everyone to watch it. To the degree that art stands separate from the artist, the quality of the movie itself is unchanged by the revelations of this past week. Baby Driver is still a great movie, right up there with the many other favorites Edgar Wright has produced. But to the degree that art is often impossible to separate from the artist, Baby Driver is sadly compromised by Kevin Spacey's presence.
It's a great movie, and you simply might not want to watch it right now.
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