The Weeknd has unveiled a haunting visual for “Drive,” one of the more introspective tracks from his new album Hurry Up Tomorrow.
The moody video, directed by acclaimed filmmaker Trey Edward Shults, doubles as a teaser for their upcoming psychological thriller of the same name, which stars The Weeknd, Jenna Ortega, and Barry Keoghan. Shults, best known for Krisha and It Comes at Night, crafts a disquieting atmosphere that lingers long after the final frame.
Set against an ambient score and the song’s aching production, the video opens with The Weeknd and Ortega drifting through a shadowy cityscape. Their connection unfolds in muted gestures—brief glances, soft laughter on a Ferris wheel, the flicker of neon lights casting intimacy over an otherwise eerie landscape. The carnival, once a symbol of youthful joy, feels hollow under the weight of what’s unsaid.
As the pair disappear into the night, the mood fractures. Scenes shift to Ortega alone in stark desert terrain, her silhouette flickering beside a bonfire. She drives with no clear destination, her gaze vacant.
These solitary moments create tension, suggesting fracture beneath the surface of her bond with the singer. There’s a quiet unraveling, captured in the way silence lingers longer than words.
The Weeknd’s “Drive”
The video closes with a disturbing image: The Weeknd submerged in a bathtub, tears streaking down his face. The lyrics, “I fell asleep in the tub, I was met with paralysis…Couldn’t scream for help, I just slowly felt the pressure hit,” echo as the water swallows him in slow motion.
It’s a moment of surrender and suffocation, a visual metaphor for emotional drowning. The bath—typically a place of restoration—becomes a site of vulnerability and despair.
“Drive” continues The Weeknd’s thematic descent into the darker corners of fame, love, and alienation. It bridges his current album with his cinematic ambitions, reinforcing his evolution as both a musician and visual storyteller. Hurry Up Tomorrow, the film, promises to deepen this world when it premieres in May.
The Weeknd and Shults offer a story that doesn't beg to be understood. The visuals haunt. The lyrics linger. And the silence, more than anything, speaks volumes.
