The life of a long-haul truck driver isn’t for everyone, nor could it be considered easy even for those years deep in the job; weeks/months away from home, the majority of any given 24-hour time period spent manipulating the steering wheel of a fully loaded 80,000-pound semi, sleep deprivation, the only meaningful social contact coming from the briefest of moments at a truck stop or over the chatter of a CB radio, and the list goes on. It’s an industry long dominated by men, so seeing the women profiled in Nesa Azimi’s slice-of-trucker-life documentary “Driver” feels like a breath of fresh air, even if the themes scattered throughout come enveloped in a cloud of patriarchal exhaust.
“Driver” largely follows Desiree Wood, a former exotic dancer who turned to life on the road after having lost everything following a prior instance of horrendous assault. Operating a truck is a refuge, even as the film shows the minutia of her daily routine, connected by seemingly endless shots of her travels down any random stretch of the American highway. As she moves from one loading dock to the next, we hear her phone interview potential trucker candidates, all female, and all with oddly similar backstories as they desire to pursue this lifestyle to escape from the horrors of their past. Wood is never shy when it comes to laying out the hardships, the realities, and the decisions they’ll need to make when it comes to committing fully, though her own words mask her own realities as financial woes have her in a position to lose her truck and possibly derail her career potentially.
Fortunately, fun arrives when the film checks in on her trucking sisterhood, all who come armed with tales of the wildly unfair treatment each has received at the hands of their male superiors, to the point where several scenes filmed at a trucking convention show several such truckers asking any woman on the floor if they’ll sign a petition crafted to enact some change hopefully. It isn’t always doom and gloom, however, as we see this same delightful group enjoying time together on a cruise, singing karaoke and playfully complaining about the structural integrity of a Twizzler; as the film progresses, it’s apparent that finding a hot shower, dealing with poor phone service and the frustrations associated with truck repair or having enough clearance to back up their massive vehicles is a vast step up from the life they lived before. Hearing how they navigated the pandemic is another fascinating moment, but seeing Wood hand over the keys to her truck as she confronts a representative face-to-face about the way they terribly handled her repossession quickly shifts the tone back once more. It’s a film that another filmmaker could have worked into a celebration. Still, Azimi’s warts-and-all approach takes any periodic detours into monotony and balances each with generous amounts of how things are. You’re unsure whether to smile or frown, yet Azimi makes such a sensation palatable.
As the film winds down, a final POV shot of another stretch of the road finds itself soundtracked by one of the most ominous pieces of music ever put to film; it’s a scene more effective than it has any right to be, a perfect representation of the world each of these women has left behind and the uncertainty each face with every waking day. The danger comes in many forms, from the men who threaten their livelihood to those lurking in the literal shadows to that which exists simply in the profession. Clocking in at around 90 minutes, it’s a simply-made gaze into an overlooked culture, one deserving of far more respect than it’s received and one that Azimi has captured beautifully. [B+]
