The story is this: one token Black character takes one token non-Black, non-white character (in this case, Indian-American) to an old white man who never leaves his perch atop a stool in the back of a billiards room. The old man wants some undisclosed item from a construction site; it may be drugs, it may be counterfeit passports, it may even be about a million of those little plastic troll dolls from the 90s with the funky hair. We simply don’t know.
The old man asks a series of questions regarding the reliability of this Indian-American getaway driver. The driver proves his cred beyond a shadow of a doubt with some weird half-jump hand gesture thing, and the old man laughs. Amazingly, his demands are somehow satisfied.
Then we cut to a garage, where some guy we’ve never seen before explains to this Indian-American character what the least exotic, least obscure sportscar sold in America – the Corvette C7 – has under the hood. “Eet’s a poosh-rod vee-ayyt, maan.” The Indian-American character drives the Black character to the construction site, who tells the driver to leave if he’s out of the car for more than 6 minutes.
Not 5 minutes; Drive already did that. 6 minutes. It’s original, because shut up.
The Black character does indeed take more than 6 minutes, presumably solving the riddle of how to shoehorn all those effing troll dolls into his backpack, and the getaway driver leaves. Then he has a change of heart, and says “to hell with orders!” and does a 180 to go back and rescue Mr. Troll Doll Man.
This part of the movie is puzzling, because Mr. Troll Doll Man gets stuck between two wood beams trying to leave the half-constructed building, and the two bad guys giving chase – who clearly have a gun – fail to try shooting him. Then the Indian-American driver and the Black theft-perpetrator escape in the Corvette C7, and no car chase ensues because these two bad guys haven’t got a car (do they live on the site?)
The Indian-American character refuses payment for the job; the Corvette is payment enough. Then he drives across a bridge and into everlasting YouTube fame.
Okay, but seriously, the movie is nothing if not well-shot. It lacks the sort of spirited driving that we’d have liked to see, featuring just one smoking, tire-spinning 180 and no car chase, but the car’s soundtrack is superb, as the movie makes the base 6.2 liter LT1 sound mean as hell.
We only wish the movie had been written by M. Night Shyamalan. Then at the end we’d learn that the Corvette was actually a little MG Midget-that-could, the whole time!