Boston Asian American Film Festival 2023

BAAFF 2023: The Accidental Getaway Driver (by Sing J. Lee) | Review

The Accidental Getaway Driver, Sing J. Lee’s feature directorial debut, screened at the 15th Boston Asian American Film Festival. The movie kicks the viewer off with an immediately high-stakes premise, but doesn’t follow up on everything it tries to offer.

From the jump, The Accidental Getaway Driver hooks you with its premise: Long (Hiep Tran Nghia), an elderly Vietnamese man, lives alone and drives a taxi for a living. One night he receives a call far past his usual working time, which he would decline had he not been offered double pay. Three fugitives enter the car, and at gunpoint, he is forced to drive them out of the country.

But the movie is a lot slower-paced than its high-octane premise would have it seem. Much of it is spent hiding in motel rooms, with Long allowed to take breaks between driving—albeit with a gun pointed at him at all times—and we get acquainted with the ragtag group of fugitives and their dynamics.

Tây (Dustin Nguyen) is the group’s ringleader, a mid-40s Vietnamese man with a tough exterior but who comes off as the most empathetic. Aden (Dali Benssalah) is the group’s muscle, somewhat younger than Tây but seemingly contesting his spot as the leader—he acts calm but also seems the most capable of violence. Eddie (Phi Vu) is the youngest of the bunch, in his mid-20s, and the most emotionally volatile. The three broke out of prison together and remain a group with the shared goal of fleeing the country, and though they have rapport their interactions seem to veil some underlying distrust. Communication seems strained—especially once Tây begins to grow fond of Long, to the others’ disapproval.

Soon enough the movie predictably—and somewhat problematically—veers into a found-family narrative. The movie posits Long and Tây as both lonely souls, and they slowly bond over their time waiting for Aden to complete mysterious tasks. The movie alludes to some rift in Long’s family history that caused him to have to live alone and work as a cab driver. Similarly, Tày’s criminal pursuits have made him the black sheep of the family. Within their fortuitous meeting (Long’s kidnapping), the two have found someone to connect to, and to fix a part of themselves.

However, though this can be touching at parts, it’s unclear if the movie handles this narrative with the nuance it certainly deserves. At worst, it teeters into cliche territory, forcing the viewer to bear the conflict between the found-family narrative it wants to portray and the actual events the movie depicts. The Accidental Getaway Driver feels like a movie that withholds information from the audience, for better or for worse. Everything remains subtextual: the movie flirts with the idea of systemic critique—it alludes that the fugitives may have not committed the crimes that they were incarcerated for—but nothing really comes of this.

Similarly, the relationship between Long and Tây leads to some touching moments but never comes around in a fully satisfying way. The nuance of the situation—a lonely cab driver who unexpectedly finds connection in his own kidnapping—is interesting but not fully explored. And worse than being nuanced, it feels unearned.

The Accidental Getaway Driver is a strong performance vehicle more than anything. All four of the main cast—Long and the fugitives—provide complicated, withheld performances that reveal layers of complexity when the screenplay mostly fails to. Dustin Nguyen as Tây feels palpable as his hardened exterior starts to chip off around Long, and while he never fully softens up there are small nuances in how his behavior changes that are more satisfying to watch. The competent cinematography also makes the movie easy to watch—if nothing groundbreaking or experimental—every shot is strikingly lit and feels “cool.”

The Accidental Getaway Driver feels like a movie that will divide audiences. It was well-acted and competently produced, but the movie felt hollow for me in a way that felt like it was lacking something—for others the incompleteness of the narrative and general air of ambiguity may make it even more compelling.

Ryan Yau

Ryan is a film writer and recreational saxophonist from Hong Kong. He is currently based in Boston, studying journalism at Emerson College. He enjoys writing features on local artists and arts events, especially spotlighting up-and-coming independent filmmakers via festival coverage
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