Guest Review: 'Learning To Drive'

Guest blogger Rebecca Romani says that while "Learning to Drive" (opened this weekend in cinemas around San Diego) is largely predictable, it's the little moments that make a gorgeous late summer film.

For Wendy Shields, fierce intellectual book critic, life has been a series of words, pages, articles, and books. She admires writers, is admired by them, lives in a lovely apartment that looks comfortably messy, has a husband, has a daughter and leads a nice, lived-in life.

And then, one night, her dust jacket of a life goes to hell in the back seat of a cab. Her husband of 21 years has just informed her he’s leaving her and instructs the cabbie to take her home.

For Wendy (elegant, always interesting Patricia Clarkson), weepy and wrung out, the cab ride is a short, wretched sob session of minor confessions and self-flagellation. Distracted, she leaves an important manuscript on the seat, much to the consternation of the driver, Darvan Singh Tur (calm, slightly rumpled Ben Kingsley), who feels compelled to return it to Wendy the next day.

It’s an odd meeting between the composed Sikh and the fraying critic who finds herself suddenly alone in Manhattan, having never learned to drive. When Wendy realizes Darvan also gives driving lessons, a tiny door of hope opens. Wendy has no idea of how to drive, and up to now has never needed to. So she turns Darvan to show her how and to take her mind off her collapsing marriage.

Darvan takes his charge seriously and gently coaxes Wendy into first gear and eventually onto the freeway (“What’s wrong?” “We’re moving!”). Eventually, they make it across the Brooklyn Bridge and survive parallel parking and a fender bender.

In the process, Darvan and Wendy come to learn about their parallel worlds - Wendy becomes aware of how post 9/11 hysteria still dogs Darvan in his turban and how Sikh tradition pairs him in an arranged marriage, while Darvan begins to see Wendy as a woman learning to negotiate a newly uncoupled life who might have some advice for him as he embarks on a new marriage.

And from here, “Learning to Drive” coasts predictably enough along as driving turns into a metaphor for life.

“Learning To Drive” telegraphs its basic moments quite clearly, nonetheless, it pulls sweet little punches in the unexpected details. Under a lesser director and with a less interesting cast, “Learning To Drive” could have easily become an older chick flick, driving cougar jokes into the ground.

Instead, under Spanish director, Isabel Coixet (“Elegy”), “Learning to Drive” has well-timed, deeper moments. Its lack of polished and perky observations come as a shock, at first. And then comes the realization that it’s a film for grown ups, grungy pajamas, elegant dinners and all. It’s fun and surprisingly earthy, whether talking about blowjobs (“Why do you think it’s called a 'job?'”) or loamy sod in Vermont.

Coixet has teamed up with her "Elegy” costars to create a gentle, lived-in film, sensitively adapted from a short story in The New Yorker by screenwriter Sarah Kernochan. The result is a masterful combination made even better by the intelligent, relaxed editing.

Patricia Clarkson gives Wendy the right amount of elegance and sense of impending collapse if she doesn’t keep it together. There is something about her Wendy that recalls an earlier character, not quite sure of her element, that of Juliette in Rubba Nada’s luscious “Cairo Time.” Here, too, Clarkson’s character is not sure how attracted she should be to her companion on her journey through another culture and place, in a comfortable, moving interaction.

Kingsley’s Darvan Singh Tur is a rumpled, disciplined contradiction. Seemingly not quite at ease in his turban, still, Darvan is deeply committed to the Sikh principles including service to others, all the while clearly affirming his American identity, even in the face of daily, low level, obnoxious racism - a subtle comment on the reality of post-9/11 racism for Sikhs and others.

Kingsley, himself of Indian descent, gives Darvan a sort of innocent gravitas, which slowly flowers into a desire for companionship. Kingsley brilliantly balances the moment Darvan hesitates between his commitment to his new wife, Jasleen, and the possibility Wendy might be the educated woman he seeks – so clear is Darvan’s hesitation, you can almost touch it. And yet Kingsley is also able to deftly draw the tenderness in the moment Darvan is able to see the possibilities of a satisfying relationship with a woman he is only beginning to get to know.

Like Clarkson, there is something that harkens back to earlier work. Here Kingsley’s Darvan has echoes of his role as the tragic Col. Behrani, a stern Iranian immigrant trying to create the American dream for his family after the fall of the Shah in “The House of Sand and Fog.” Both are committed to principle, and where Behrani is sternly unbending, Darvan is a kinder, gentler version of the immigrant who must make it because he has no choice.

Sarita Choudhury does a lovely turn as Darvan’s new wife, Jasleen, who marries a bit late in life. Usually seen as the sensual beauty in films like “ A Perfect Murder,” Choudhury is much plainer, much more the country bride here. It’s a deeply human performance as Choudhury allows Jasleen to unfold before our eyes to become a woman with goals and finally, the potential for a comfortable relationship with a man she has committed her life to sight unseen.

It’s nice to see Sikhs finally get some dignified screen time. Coixet foregoes, and perhaps wasn’t even tempted by, that tried and tired trope of the Western woman (re)discovering the non-Western man in his exoticness. Instead, Coixet treats Darvan and his fellow Sikhs not as creatures to be spied upon in their native state, but as existing independent of Wendy and, therefore, with lives to be considered in their own right. Coixet allows Darvan to explain his circumstances - an educated man in exile for political reasons, his arranged marriage; but this is also set against the context of Wendy’s crumbling marital status. There are intriguing shots of the inside of a Gurdwara or Sikh temple and moments from Darvan’s marriage ceremony. But Darvan isn't explained ad nauseam. He just is in his being and dignity, and that’s refreshing.

There comes a time, around September, when the precious love story, the precocious irony, and the pithy generalities of summer fare just seem so done. You can’t decide if you have moved beyond them or if they've held you under and drowned you with their earnestness bit to seem forever young.

In contrast, “Learning to Drive” is a great cinematic palate cleanser for the waning dog days. It may not forge completely new paths, but Coixet presents a fun film with unexpected moments of tenderness, reality and sharply observant humor - and a reminder, that “learning to see,” as Darvan explains to Wendy, may help you keep your life on the road.

"Learning to Drive" is currently playing at the Hillcrest Landmark, Reading Cinemas Town Square in Clairemont, AMC La Jolla 12, The Cinépolis Luxury Cinemas in Del Mar, and the Edwards San Marcos 18.