In the end what the film was missing was the humanity of a wife who built an empire with her husband and how she saved him, because, in the end, we have the legend that is Ferrari as it is today, because of Laura. There were flashes too brief flashes, but we did not see the hard graft and the years of love between them. It went out of its way to humanise Lina, the mistress, but not his wife which was a big problem for me; listen I have no time for mistresses of married men, fictional or otherwise, even less time for the men themselves; matter of fact toss them into Davey Jones locker, so there was no way she was getting my sympathy and she didn’t because played by Shailene Woodley, there was a dullness that could possibly be intentional which garnered no loyalties I dare say, from the audience. Laura was more than his bookkeeper she was the one who was there before the flash that has become Ferrari.
Other than that, it has a good dose of some things and grit. We are in a particular moment in Enzo’s life: the competition from Maserati is hitting up, his empire is on the brink of bankruptcy, he is still grieving for his son, his wife Laura is a combustion waiting to happen in the fog of her grief and let’s not forget the mistress who is also the mother of his young son. The legendary Mille Miglia is on the horizon which will determine and come to define his greatness. And in the snapshot of the 50s, an era of change, the world having come through the war it feels a pertinent moment to capture the man amidst the tumultuous change. The grit on screen brings to the fore the dangers of this sport. The passion and the wish of the devil. A terrible joy Enzo called it and it is. A bad juxtaposition of joy knowing at the end there is more chance of death than life. And in that way it equates racing to religion; the best scene in my opinion, is the one in church were even from the pulpit the greatness of the sport is lauded; the ticking clocks in sympatico with the gun shots not far from there when Maserati has come for the king, his crown and his empire; if only for this scene alone it is worth a watch. The sequence here is set to perfection.
We see the celebrated Enzo Ferrari, carrying on around Modena, greying and hassled, with the world on his mind which includes holding on to his empire, appeasing his mistress, being there for his one surviving son, and making do with Laura, his grieving wife, who has not stopped burying her lone son who died tragically. Enzo is out of his heyday now, gone are the sleek cars and the flash, enter the older man who drives a car more suited to his mother, and making the trip between his home in Modena and his mistress’ home in the hills, trying to starve off bankruptcy…he feels like an old bank manager clock watching to retirement. The sunglasses he chooses to hide behind, hold in the creaks of his own mortality as he looks over his drivers round the racetrack, with that foreboding sense of existentiality, knowing with a swerve of a curve death knocks around the corner. But Driver sucks us in with his resolute characterisation of the racing legend staring at the twilight of his life not so far away.
There is racing, of course there is, particularly the now defunct Mille Miglia race that was a test of endurance in road racing, similar to Le Man, which Enzo lost a few times, (or should it be the Tour de France). Mann stages these spectacular race scenes with pure panache, juxtaposing Enzo watching one with his mechanic in his garage as opposed with the rest of the crowd, further creating a deeper enigma of the man. He also excels at bringing the gore; dear lord, he does not shy away from capturing the goriness when a driver crashes and dies; during these races the safety of the driver and spectators was never a priority, and the paunchiness of the movie really comes alive during the crash scenes that sees the drivers flying sky high having been thrown from the car post-crash. The second crash scene is rather unsettling, with a macabre aftermath that included the death scenes; dismembered bodies, severed limbs and dead children. The set up of these scenes is thoroughly ambitious and well executed, if at times unnecessary. The pacing change of the soundtrack vacillates in tempo, the images that will cause the crash come into sharp focus so the stub on the road is not simply a stub but a key factor in the next unfortunate scene. The death of the child, a victim of this crash, looms large in the mind because in the previous scene he was at the dinner table with his family; where his mother’s last instructions to him was to wash his hands before sitting to dinner.
The cinematography was emotive shot in a softness that would temper the harshness of the steel, the sharpness of the breaks and the fumes you can almost see coming off screen. Adam Driver comes across with a professional kind of panache, an actor of a time gone by that encompasses Enzo down to his gait, the suit trousers that sit a bit too high up, short tie, and that resident grump on his face. Penelope Cruz has always had my heart from the moment I saw her in Captain Corelli’s Mandolin and her acting here is sublime; she captures the anger of a wife whose relationship with her husband has soured, they sleep in separate rooms, the grief of a mother whose son’s life was so cruelly cut short, in the knowledge that her husband is out there whoring away his time, and living with a mother in-law whose attitude towards her is colder than a witch’s tit and who obviously is in lockstep with her son’s choice to sire an heir with his mistress because in her words “one was not enough” that was cold. Shailene Woodley is stifled as Lina, she makes it hard to sympathise with the mistress, because we have no sympathies whatsoever for her, but parts of her character falls flat; we do not see anything of what made Enzo fall for her, or is in love with her other than the fact that he likes that she lacks the fiery spirit of an Italian woman as she alludes to; I wanted some punch but then I would still have loathed her for the aforementioned reasons.
This was a good movie, but I wanted more; I wish there was a bit more panache, a bit more of that fare bella figura that is Italy, a bit more glitz but on the other hand, this is a movie about a specific moment in the life racing legend in the last vestiges of his humanity straddling eras in his lifetime whilst trying to stay relevant- I understand the need for restraint. It is a beautifully shot movie that is carried so deftly by its two main characters. Modena looks incredible on film Erik Messerschmidt take a bow.