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The movie Drive can't quite decide what it wants to be: is it an art-house flick or a commercial blockbuster? Is it a loving homage to the best '80s psychological thrillers nobody's ever seen, or is it a blood-soaked crime caper?

It's hard for me to say, really. I just walked out of the theater, and my feelings are mixed. The first half of the movie is flawless. It is as close to perfection as I've ever seen in the cinema. It deserves comparisons to Michael Mann and Akira Kurosawa. It is really that good.

The second half of the movie, well… without giving away any parts of the plot, the Bad Guys start carrying the Idiot Ball and clutching onto it for dear life.

Now, Dear Readers, let me tell you that what I know about screenwriting you could pack into a Silly Putty egg with room left over for the Silly Putty. That said, it seems to me that momentary possession of the Idiot Ball is essential for a good movie. Human beings are fallible creatures, and everyone holds the Idiot Ball sooner or later. The Idiot Ball is a mark of verisimilitude. It's when people who hold lofty positions (and presumably came to those positions by ruthless competency) hold the Idiot Ball and never relinquish it for the entire rest of the movie that the screenwriters lose me.

Drive is worth watching, it really, truly is. But once you see the fight scene in the elevator you should feel to get up and leave the movie. You've seen all the great art the movie has to offer: from that point on it becomes just another Hollywood blockbuster, and is the worse for it.