Review
by Alan Hindle
September 17 - 23, 2004
How I Learned to Drive
In
some small town hick universe, Little Bit, as she is known in
her nickname-obsessed family has bigger problems that a nickname-obsessed
family. In this inbred family, pedolphilia doesn't register as
quite wrong. Little Bit, however, as she grows up, is coming to
the realization something is very wrong indeed. Holy cats, was
my preview ever out on this one! What was I doing talking about
robotic German toilets? (However true that story might be.) Ian
Alexander Martin, a local actor, and editor of TheBoards.ca tells
me there is some umbrage taken amongst the acting community with
a couple of my previews. The only one I wish to clear up is this
one, because the show is not one to make light with. Drive is
a simmering pot of incest and subverted violence. Allan Morgan,
whom I've never rated before, is disturbing and utterly believable
as he steadily unrolls the winding, searching logic of the pedophile.
Wow, he's good. Spooky. He's like the Cheshire Cat and Gollum
stuffed into a pair of Khaki slacks. Apparently, this script has
been around forever and is done all the time. I've never heard
of it before, so I am going to rate it by my own affectation,
one and a half pints.
(The
pint system is a reverse point system. One pint is good, five
pints is bad.)
