Fernando Alonso's performance in yesterday's Italian Grand Prix was epic, and his stunning move past Hamilton and Vettel to take the lead into the Prima Variante will stand time as one of his finest moments in F1. He almost always starts well, but following a remarkably similar jaw dropping performance earlier this season at Catalunya, Alonso's place among the all-time greats must now be firmly cemented.
Through sheer force of will and extraordinarily disciplined car control, Fernando managed to gift the Scuderia and the Monza Tifosi a podium finish that almost certainly was not on offer.
The F150 in Massa's greatly improved hands has proven a midfield runner at best. Given the strength of Red Bull and McLaren, it is mind boggling to consider that the European season has closed with Alonso lying 2nd in the championship. Given Ferrari's endless struggle with tire temperature and compounds, it is hard to grasp how Alonso has managed to keep up with everyone else chasing Vettel.
Fernando was certainly aided in his quest by Michael Schumacher, who served a significant part of the GP as yet another thorn in Lewis Hamilton's wayward season. I have to feel for Lewis, as though I much enjoyed Schumacher's drive among the front runners, Hamilton was probably robbed the opportunity to close on Alonso and eventually assume his spot on the podium. I don't subscribe to the suggestion that Schumacher was driving dangerously, only that he pushed boundaries as he always has.
I did find it curious, however, at how effortlessly Button managed his way past Schumi when Lewis continually found himself blocked.
Finally, Liuzzi had no one to blame but himself for the season's best display of a F1 car posing as a bowling ball. Having sat right at that spot in 2006 and 2010, I can't imagine what it must've been to witness first hand that errant HRT skittering across the grass!
All in all, another fantastic race in what has been a season full of memorable Grand Prix moments!
Monday, September 12, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Looking Back: Monza '06
Watching the Italian Grand Prix this morning had me thinking back to my first Grand Prix at Monza - 2006. We stayed in a little town called Cinesello Balsamo, which is just a train stop away from Monza. This is the trip I think of as our “planes, trains and automobiles” trip, though in reality it was more like trains, busses, cabs, shuttles and a whole lot of walking, and when I say a whole lot of walking, I’m not exaggerating even a little bit.
Our first Grand Prix ever was in 2004 at Imola, also in beautiful countryside much like Monza, only in Imola our lovely host drove us from our apartment right up to the race track. Staying in Cinesello Balsamo, we thought, how much trouble could one extra train stop be? Well, for starters, a bus ride was required from our hotel to the train station, and then from the train station in Monza either bus or race shuttle to the track entrance – and when I say entrance, that’s a loose term. The bus dropped us off at the far edge of the Parco di Monza – what seemed about a 3-mile walk to the actual entrance to the track. But I digress, we were excited to be there, no matter how much walking was required, I was just glad I had brought good shoes.
The good thing about the walk into the track was that all along the way were lots of places to get cappuccino, espresso, panini and brioche. The park is also quite beautiful and as we walked around, checking out the track and getting the lay of the land, I’ll never forget how astonishing it is to see the old banked track in person. The steepness is like nothing I’ve ever seen and can only be fully appreciated in person, particularly after the race when the fans are allowed to climb up and over it to get out onto the track.
Aside from the walking, the other thing that stands out is how good the food was at the circuit – pomodoro e mozerella and prosciutto e formaggio panini – the latter being my favorite. Even after the race weekend was long over and we were on our way to Tuscany, I still thought about how wonderful those simple sandwiches were - on bread that is nothing like anything you can find in a US grocery store.
On Thursday, after the pit walk, as the crowd was shooed towards the exit at the end of the day, we followed signs to a place that will, for us, always be a part of our Monza experience – The Pit Stop. A little bar tucked away off the beaten path, far enough off, in fact, that we thought somehow the signs were wrong. Just as we were wondering if we’d made a wrong turn, we saw the small patio with six tables. Inside was a bar with a few more tables, and not crowded like you would think, a friendly, welcoming place to rest our feet and have a beer.
When we were unable to successfully get a cab from The Pit Stop back to our hotel, we took the bus to the Monza centro storico where we made two great discoveries. The first being a wine shop that sold some fantastic wine from Italian F1 driver Jarno Trulli, the second Prater Pizzeria where we had a great dinner, but I think the dinner the following night at Ristorante Costa was our favorite.
On Friday, after making our way back to Cinesello Balsamo from a long day at the autodromo, the concierge at our hotel recommended Ristorante Costa to us for dinner. Not wanting to do any more walking, we asked if he could call us a cab. To him, my request made no sense, as he assured me this restaurant was only 50 meters from our hotel, just a few short blocks. He even wrote the brief instructions on the back of the hotel business card – make a left at the light, walk 50 m to the square where the restaurant is.
This is where we learned how true our Italian instructor’s joke about the Italian term “due piedi” is. The term literally means “two steps” and as she explained to us, when you ask for directions in Italy, you are often told the destination is only “due piedi” when in reality, it’s quite a hike. After twenty minutes of walking, we were just about to give up when we saw the restaurant on the far corner of a square. Glad we didn’t give up. We got a great meal, even with my super limited Italian – fortunately my Italian vocabulary is strongest when it comes to food. In addition to the great food and a particularly good tiramisu, they also had a man on a tiny stage playing keyboards who was very entertaining. When we first arrived, we was playing The Beatles and James Taylor. Later he was joined by a woman who sang Italian songs.
On Saturday we decided to forget the bus to the train to the shuttle to the edge of the park ritual, and hired a cab to take us right to the entrance of the circuit for qualifying. This was a good call, not just for saving our feet, but also because that’s how we met our great friend Jon who, along with his traveling companion, was also looking for a more direct route to the track and was more than happy to share a cab with us.
At the end of the end of the day, we returned to what would become our favorite post race hang out, The Pit Stop. Too tired and hungry to imagine making a trek anywhere else, we ordered a meat plate where I was first introduced to the mysterious cold cut called “speck.” Delicious, but I had a hard time figuring out exactly what it was. It was only later that I learned that it is cured ham – similar to prosciutto. We also ordered some pasta, nothing fancy, but both the torchetti pesto and the tagliatelle Bolognese were surprisingly good for what was basically bar food.
Race day was the perfect combination of everything I think the Monza experience should be – the weather was beautiful, Ferrari won (this particular race it was Schumacher – his last win at Monza, at least up to now) and after the race was over, we celebrated with a bottle of Jarno Trulli’s wine with our friends on the patio at The Pit Stop. Wish I was there right now.
Traci Carroll
Our first Grand Prix ever was in 2004 at Imola, also in beautiful countryside much like Monza, only in Imola our lovely host drove us from our apartment right up to the race track. Staying in Cinesello Balsamo, we thought, how much trouble could one extra train stop be? Well, for starters, a bus ride was required from our hotel to the train station, and then from the train station in Monza either bus or race shuttle to the track entrance – and when I say entrance, that’s a loose term. The bus dropped us off at the far edge of the Parco di Monza – what seemed about a 3-mile walk to the actual entrance to the track. But I digress, we were excited to be there, no matter how much walking was required, I was just glad I had brought good shoes.
The good thing about the walk into the track was that all along the way were lots of places to get cappuccino, espresso, panini and brioche. The park is also quite beautiful and as we walked around, checking out the track and getting the lay of the land, I’ll never forget how astonishing it is to see the old banked track in person. The steepness is like nothing I’ve ever seen and can only be fully appreciated in person, particularly after the race when the fans are allowed to climb up and over it to get out onto the track.
Aside from the walking, the other thing that stands out is how good the food was at the circuit – pomodoro e mozerella and prosciutto e formaggio panini – the latter being my favorite. Even after the race weekend was long over and we were on our way to Tuscany, I still thought about how wonderful those simple sandwiches were - on bread that is nothing like anything you can find in a US grocery store.
On Thursday, after the pit walk, as the crowd was shooed towards the exit at the end of the day, we followed signs to a place that will, for us, always be a part of our Monza experience – The Pit Stop. A little bar tucked away off the beaten path, far enough off, in fact, that we thought somehow the signs were wrong. Just as we were wondering if we’d made a wrong turn, we saw the small patio with six tables. Inside was a bar with a few more tables, and not crowded like you would think, a friendly, welcoming place to rest our feet and have a beer.
When we were unable to successfully get a cab from The Pit Stop back to our hotel, we took the bus to the Monza centro storico where we made two great discoveries. The first being a wine shop that sold some fantastic wine from Italian F1 driver Jarno Trulli, the second Prater Pizzeria where we had a great dinner, but I think the dinner the following night at Ristorante Costa was our favorite.
On Friday, after making our way back to Cinesello Balsamo from a long day at the autodromo, the concierge at our hotel recommended Ristorante Costa to us for dinner. Not wanting to do any more walking, we asked if he could call us a cab. To him, my request made no sense, as he assured me this restaurant was only 50 meters from our hotel, just a few short blocks. He even wrote the brief instructions on the back of the hotel business card – make a left at the light, walk 50 m to the square where the restaurant is.
This is where we learned how true our Italian instructor’s joke about the Italian term “due piedi” is. The term literally means “two steps” and as she explained to us, when you ask for directions in Italy, you are often told the destination is only “due piedi” when in reality, it’s quite a hike. After twenty minutes of walking, we were just about to give up when we saw the restaurant on the far corner of a square. Glad we didn’t give up. We got a great meal, even with my super limited Italian – fortunately my Italian vocabulary is strongest when it comes to food. In addition to the great food and a particularly good tiramisu, they also had a man on a tiny stage playing keyboards who was very entertaining. When we first arrived, we was playing The Beatles and James Taylor. Later he was joined by a woman who sang Italian songs.
On Saturday we decided to forget the bus to the train to the shuttle to the edge of the park ritual, and hired a cab to take us right to the entrance of the circuit for qualifying. This was a good call, not just for saving our feet, but also because that’s how we met our great friend Jon who, along with his traveling companion, was also looking for a more direct route to the track and was more than happy to share a cab with us.
At the end of the end of the day, we returned to what would become our favorite post race hang out, The Pit Stop. Too tired and hungry to imagine making a trek anywhere else, we ordered a meat plate where I was first introduced to the mysterious cold cut called “speck.” Delicious, but I had a hard time figuring out exactly what it was. It was only later that I learned that it is cured ham – similar to prosciutto. We also ordered some pasta, nothing fancy, but both the torchetti pesto and the tagliatelle Bolognese were surprisingly good for what was basically bar food.
Race day was the perfect combination of everything I think the Monza experience should be – the weather was beautiful, Ferrari won (this particular race it was Schumacher – his last win at Monza, at least up to now) and after the race was over, we celebrated with a bottle of Jarno Trulli’s wine with our friends on the patio at The Pit Stop. Wish I was there right now.
Traci Carroll
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
"Senna" Discussion Pt.3
CAUTION: SPOILERS
I was reminded by a friend that I can find a dark cloud around any silver lining. I've heard that so many times before that I'm sure that my reputation is ripe in that regard. I'm also sure that to some my comments on "Senna" fall perfectly in that category.
Oh well, I might have suggested to my friend that he take two pills and call me in the morning . . . but a more productive suggestion might have been that he go back and reread what I've offered with his own negative filters turned off.
Ayrton Senna had an enormous impact on my life. I can't say that he became my all-time favorite F1 driver, but from a distant vantage I was captivated by the manner this man scantly 14 months my elder so intensely attacked the world's greatest, most challenging form of motor sport.
I remember that it was right around Senna's 1985 season with Lotus that on-board cameras began to appear in sparse use. It was the dawn of a sensational new era for those who followed the sport and Senna was taking center stage. In the following years television audiences worldwide exploded.
Yet despite those staggering numbers, F1 has remained largely overlooked in the cinema. Very few motor racing films have been made, and most are arguably disappointing. "Le Mans"and the racing sequences in Frankenheimer's "Grand Prix," (both made prior Senna's era), are the most notable exceptions.
With this in mind, the movie "Senna" is a remarkable accomplishment simply in the fact that it arrives as one of the stronger films on the topic.
I could have focused on those things which work so well . . . the unbelievable archival footage, the fantastic score, the fluid editing, and poignant ending. No doubt, I am fully appreciative of the film on many levels. Perhaps I should have left my commentary on that point.
However, my broader reaction to the film is almost identical to the contradictory nature I sometimes recognized in Senna's career. If the film and ensuing discussion serves to keep Senna's impact on motor sport vibrant, then let's have at it.
I want to leave the topic with two further viewing recommendations.
"A Star Named Ayrton Senna" is a noble documentary effort that comes close to presenting a more complete picture of the man, albeit with some handicaps such as a very weak score.
I would also recommend Senna's 1989 qualifying lap at Suzuka as presented on the DVD "50 Years of Formula 1 Onboard." The fascinating aspect to this narration free clip is not the lap alone but the intensity clearly evident in Senna's approach as he studies his competitor's times (probably Prost's!), climbs into his car, and pulls on his gloves. Stunning.
SPA
Has Spa-Francorchamps ever produced a boring Grand Prix? I highly doubt it.
Despite the fact that Sebastian Vettel has pretty much run away with the title, I continue to find each round in this year's championship incredibly exciting, and Spa was no exception.
This year's weather brought back memories of our trip there in 2008.
I can't wait to return!
I was reminded by a friend that I can find a dark cloud around any silver lining. I've heard that so many times before that I'm sure that my reputation is ripe in that regard. I'm also sure that to some my comments on "Senna" fall perfectly in that category.
Oh well, I might have suggested to my friend that he take two pills and call me in the morning . . . but a more productive suggestion might have been that he go back and reread what I've offered with his own negative filters turned off.
Ayrton Senna had an enormous impact on my life. I can't say that he became my all-time favorite F1 driver, but from a distant vantage I was captivated by the manner this man scantly 14 months my elder so intensely attacked the world's greatest, most challenging form of motor sport.
I remember that it was right around Senna's 1985 season with Lotus that on-board cameras began to appear in sparse use. It was the dawn of a sensational new era for those who followed the sport and Senna was taking center stage. In the following years television audiences worldwide exploded.
Yet despite those staggering numbers, F1 has remained largely overlooked in the cinema. Very few motor racing films have been made, and most are arguably disappointing. "Le Mans"and the racing sequences in Frankenheimer's "Grand Prix," (both made prior Senna's era), are the most notable exceptions.
With this in mind, the movie "Senna" is a remarkable accomplishment simply in the fact that it arrives as one of the stronger films on the topic.
I could have focused on those things which work so well . . . the unbelievable archival footage, the fantastic score, the fluid editing, and poignant ending. No doubt, I am fully appreciative of the film on many levels. Perhaps I should have left my commentary on that point.
However, my broader reaction to the film is almost identical to the contradictory nature I sometimes recognized in Senna's career. If the film and ensuing discussion serves to keep Senna's impact on motor sport vibrant, then let's have at it.
I want to leave the topic with two further viewing recommendations.
"A Star Named Ayrton Senna" is a noble documentary effort that comes close to presenting a more complete picture of the man, albeit with some handicaps such as a very weak score.
I would also recommend Senna's 1989 qualifying lap at Suzuka as presented on the DVD "50 Years of Formula 1 Onboard." The fascinating aspect to this narration free clip is not the lap alone but the intensity clearly evident in Senna's approach as he studies his competitor's times (probably Prost's!), climbs into his car, and pulls on his gloves. Stunning.
SPA
Has Spa-Francorchamps ever produced a boring Grand Prix? I highly doubt it.
Despite the fact that Sebastian Vettel has pretty much run away with the title, I continue to find each round in this year's championship incredibly exciting, and Spa was no exception.
This year's weather brought back memories of our trip there in 2008.
I can't wait to return!
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
"Senna" Discussion Pt. 2
CAUTION: SPOILERS
I kicked this thread off stating that I'd lost some contact with the sport at the time Senna moved to McLaren. That was actually a half truth worthy of clarification.
Despite the fact finer details may have slipped my grasp, my interest in the sport had far from waned. I was paying attention; the problem is that I began to despise Ayrton Senna during his days at McLaren.
For everything Senna had done on track to clearly demonstrate that he came to F1 to win, I was less than impressed by his off circuit posturing, even when his gripes held merit and were for the betterment of the sport as a whole.
When Senna later chose to address his complaints behind the wheel of a race car, I'd had enough.
Last year, "Top Gear" presented a tribute to Senna in conjunction with the film's initial release in Europe. Jeremy Clarkson . . . another walking contradiction . . . wrapped up the excellent segment on the "driver's driver" admitting that he was at the time never a Senna fan, but that he instead (to paraphrase) thought Villeneuve the greatest. Frightening as it maybe to admit any alliance with Mr. Clarkson, I shared his perspective.
I was also never a Prost fan. I found his "smooth is fast" precision boring. I much preferred the style of those such as Senna and Villeneuve who slid closer to the edge, even when their sensational efforts were counter productive.
However, as 1994 arrived and Senna moved past his war with a now retired Prost, I found myself greatly anticipating the year ahead.
I must have been sub-conciously aware that this great driver was back to business tackling the challenges which made him the center of the greatest sport on earth. The pure aspects of racing . . . the quest to win F1 Grands Prix . . . developing a car not quite ready for the front row . . . and driving beyond that car's limits in a fashion of which legends are born . . . that's what we paid to see and Ayrton Senna was back. Adding the rise of an amazing new talent in Michael Schumacher, it was going to be a fantastic year.
Therefore, when I sat down for my first screening I brought a set of expectations that were spot on consistent with my own cinematic inclinations. Director Asif Kapadia's claim "we don’t need anyone else to tell Senna’s story except Senna" was a modus operandi I adored with great anticipation. I was ready to have my socks knocked off by a director who in his own words claimed commitment to the visceral experience.
The letdown came in the form of a less than visceral narration, and whereas the film may not show talking heads we certainly hear them. Too often I found the narration skimming over and distracting those aspects of the story which inspired a deeper curiosity.
My point is to not beat up the principal narrator, John Bisignano. Dissecting troubling comments such as "one word to describe Senna and that word is fast" only confuse my point.
Kapadia could have and should have placed greater emphasis on telling the story through Senna's own voice. As a filmmaker, I feel that if I subscribe to "show me don't tell me" then I can't go back to relying on telling the viewer what is happening much less what to think. It's that simple.
I find it ironic that every other choice Kapadia made succeeded in creating an exceptionally visceral exposition of his subject, but the effort ultimately stumbles because the subject Ayrton Senna remains elusive . . .
Utilizing the former ESPN commentator may draw sentimental memories of an era, but Bisignano's first person insight almost prevents our forming our own unique impressions of Senna as if allowed to observe only from safe broadcast distance. Is it too cynical to suggest that I did not need a former (although passionate) commentator retelling a story he'd already told me over the air years ago?
My point is demonstrated in the manner Kapadia brilliantly recovers as the story draws to conclusion. In treating the events of Imola '94 with dignified "hands off" finesse and wrapping the film on Senna's own words, the director returns to his stated commitment, and poignantly closes on a central spirit . . . not only of the film but more importantly of the man himself.
I personally feel Senna's coming of age and subsequent war against the political forces within F1 can be seen as an example for many. Having faced and often failed at the challenge of tempering passion along my own professional journey, I have not lost sight of this film's value beyond a strict motor racing audience, even if I feel that audience may not get to know the sport nor the man as well as I'd imagined.
I kicked this thread off stating that I'd lost some contact with the sport at the time Senna moved to McLaren. That was actually a half truth worthy of clarification.
Despite the fact finer details may have slipped my grasp, my interest in the sport had far from waned. I was paying attention; the problem is that I began to despise Ayrton Senna during his days at McLaren.
For everything Senna had done on track to clearly demonstrate that he came to F1 to win, I was less than impressed by his off circuit posturing, even when his gripes held merit and were for the betterment of the sport as a whole.
When Senna later chose to address his complaints behind the wheel of a race car, I'd had enough.
Last year, "Top Gear" presented a tribute to Senna in conjunction with the film's initial release in Europe. Jeremy Clarkson . . . another walking contradiction . . . wrapped up the excellent segment on the "driver's driver" admitting that he was at the time never a Senna fan, but that he instead (to paraphrase) thought Villeneuve the greatest. Frightening as it maybe to admit any alliance with Mr. Clarkson, I shared his perspective.
I was also never a Prost fan. I found his "smooth is fast" precision boring. I much preferred the style of those such as Senna and Villeneuve who slid closer to the edge, even when their sensational efforts were counter productive.
However, as 1994 arrived and Senna moved past his war with a now retired Prost, I found myself greatly anticipating the year ahead.
I must have been sub-conciously aware that this great driver was back to business tackling the challenges which made him the center of the greatest sport on earth. The pure aspects of racing . . . the quest to win F1 Grands Prix . . . developing a car not quite ready for the front row . . . and driving beyond that car's limits in a fashion of which legends are born . . . that's what we paid to see and Ayrton Senna was back. Adding the rise of an amazing new talent in Michael Schumacher, it was going to be a fantastic year.
Therefore, when I sat down for my first screening I brought a set of expectations that were spot on consistent with my own cinematic inclinations. Director Asif Kapadia's claim "we don’t need anyone else to tell Senna’s story except Senna" was a modus operandi I adored with great anticipation. I was ready to have my socks knocked off by a director who in his own words claimed commitment to the visceral experience.
The letdown came in the form of a less than visceral narration, and whereas the film may not show talking heads we certainly hear them. Too often I found the narration skimming over and distracting those aspects of the story which inspired a deeper curiosity.
My point is to not beat up the principal narrator, John Bisignano. Dissecting troubling comments such as "one word to describe Senna and that word is fast" only confuse my point.
Kapadia could have and should have placed greater emphasis on telling the story through Senna's own voice. As a filmmaker, I feel that if I subscribe to "show me don't tell me" then I can't go back to relying on telling the viewer what is happening much less what to think. It's that simple.
I find it ironic that every other choice Kapadia made succeeded in creating an exceptionally visceral exposition of his subject, but the effort ultimately stumbles because the subject Ayrton Senna remains elusive . . .
Utilizing the former ESPN commentator may draw sentimental memories of an era, but Bisignano's first person insight almost prevents our forming our own unique impressions of Senna as if allowed to observe only from safe broadcast distance. Is it too cynical to suggest that I did not need a former (although passionate) commentator retelling a story he'd already told me over the air years ago?
My point is demonstrated in the manner Kapadia brilliantly recovers as the story draws to conclusion. In treating the events of Imola '94 with dignified "hands off" finesse and wrapping the film on Senna's own words, the director returns to his stated commitment, and poignantly closes on a central spirit . . . not only of the film but more importantly of the man himself.
I personally feel Senna's coming of age and subsequent war against the political forces within F1 can be seen as an example for many. Having faced and often failed at the challenge of tempering passion along my own professional journey, I have not lost sight of this film's value beyond a strict motor racing audience, even if I feel that audience may not get to know the sport nor the man as well as I'd imagined.
Monday, August 29, 2011
"Senna" Discussion Pt 1
CAUTION SPOILERS!
"Senna" the movie, much like Senna's own journey cut way too short, is at once captivating, mesmerizing, yet an incomplete document of an individual who transformed the sport he loved.
The film introduces a complicated and complex provocateur to those who may have never followed F1, and does so in a fashion fitting of the man and those who competed against him.
Yet for everything the film does so well, it leaves more questions about the three time World Driving Champion than it answers, and fails, IMHO, to adequately define the significance of the proscenium in which he excelled.
I would find it impossible to fully distill Ayrton Senna within the scant confines of a two hour movie. Here we have all the ingredients for a story long overdue to the big screen, but movies rarely succeed following divergent story lines, characters which can not be simplified, and far less as audio/visual cliff notes. Ironically, it is in fact the filmmaker's requirement to identify and extrapolate a manageable narrative from Senna's broad impact on motor sport (albeit executed here with methodical technical precision) that left me somewhat unfulfilled.
Sensational endeavors unfortunately provide more easily condensed narratives. Thus it is no surprise that the narrative here centers on Senna's openly public feud with Alain Prost. Those of us who have followed F1 know this story well and understand why it would serve as the eye in this storm of documentary.
On the surface it provides the most obvious path toward condensing Senna to the screen. The stage was simple. Alain Prost was the man to beat. Senna placed Prost on the highest pedestal above all others. Even as he entered the 1988 season as Prost's teammate at McLaren, Senna could not hide his desire to defeat this man. He lived and breathed that quest as if it was the only manner in which he could find his place in the world, perhaps even peace within his soul.
There we have it. A protagonist, an antagonist, and a catalyst: Jean Marie Balestre!
Given the miles of material under which director Asif Kapadia must have almost drowned (that would be some problem to have, huh?), he manages to champion and include amazing glimpses behind the curtain that are shocking, funny, human. The movie treats us to absolutely stunning behind the scenes footage of driver meetings, pre-race briefings.
Kapadia and his editor put us in the room in a manner I'm dead certain that even the most ardent F1 fan has never seen. We see Senna navigating his way with trepidation into the political side of a sport where his adversaries were serious, both competitively and politically. No doubt, this is what many of us came to see, and on that count the film does not disappoint.
In these moments, I saw these F1 "gods" as not quite gods at all . . . but instead pawns who also live and die by the political sword . . . yet the irony is through fully exploiting the objectivity of time, the film at once shatters and rebirths the epic myth through this incredible footage.
The film also takes advantage of the conflict between Senna's passion for the purity of racing against the politic of human endeavor . . . but too conveniently sidesteps the fact that those same politics afforded him the opportunity to earn millions of dollars in the process.
Herein lies the dilemma. As F1 fans, we know it. We know it because this story is repeated every single season. It may take different forms, but it is always there. Senna was not the first to meet it head on, however he might have been the quickest to adopt its practice to his own advantage.
I contend it is fair to say that Senna was not stupid. Once he snapped from naivete to realize he could summit on talent alone, he utilized every opportunity to point woeful scrutiny and political tides against his adversary.
I believe Senna so despised the political realities of the sport that he was probably unaware that he'd subscribed to their practice. Perhaps unwittingly, he was fighting fire with fire.
Unfortunately the film does not question Senna's motivations in a completely objective fashion. I also wonder if those outside and now being introduced for the first time to Ayrton Senna, F1, and his impact on the sport any real depth on the matter?
"Senna" the movie, much like Senna's own journey cut way too short, is at once captivating, mesmerizing, yet an incomplete document of an individual who transformed the sport he loved.
The film introduces a complicated and complex provocateur to those who may have never followed F1, and does so in a fashion fitting of the man and those who competed against him.
Yet for everything the film does so well, it leaves more questions about the three time World Driving Champion than it answers, and fails, IMHO, to adequately define the significance of the proscenium in which he excelled.
I would find it impossible to fully distill Ayrton Senna within the scant confines of a two hour movie. Here we have all the ingredients for a story long overdue to the big screen, but movies rarely succeed following divergent story lines, characters which can not be simplified, and far less as audio/visual cliff notes. Ironically, it is in fact the filmmaker's requirement to identify and extrapolate a manageable narrative from Senna's broad impact on motor sport (albeit executed here with methodical technical precision) that left me somewhat unfulfilled.
Sensational endeavors unfortunately provide more easily condensed narratives. Thus it is no surprise that the narrative here centers on Senna's openly public feud with Alain Prost. Those of us who have followed F1 know this story well and understand why it would serve as the eye in this storm of documentary.
On the surface it provides the most obvious path toward condensing Senna to the screen. The stage was simple. Alain Prost was the man to beat. Senna placed Prost on the highest pedestal above all others. Even as he entered the 1988 season as Prost's teammate at McLaren, Senna could not hide his desire to defeat this man. He lived and breathed that quest as if it was the only manner in which he could find his place in the world, perhaps even peace within his soul.
There we have it. A protagonist, an antagonist, and a catalyst: Jean Marie Balestre!
Given the miles of material under which director Asif Kapadia must have almost drowned (that would be some problem to have, huh?), he manages to champion and include amazing glimpses behind the curtain that are shocking, funny, human. The movie treats us to absolutely stunning behind the scenes footage of driver meetings, pre-race briefings.
Kapadia and his editor put us in the room in a manner I'm dead certain that even the most ardent F1 fan has never seen. We see Senna navigating his way with trepidation into the political side of a sport where his adversaries were serious, both competitively and politically. No doubt, this is what many of us came to see, and on that count the film does not disappoint.
In these moments, I saw these F1 "gods" as not quite gods at all . . . but instead pawns who also live and die by the political sword . . . yet the irony is through fully exploiting the objectivity of time, the film at once shatters and rebirths the epic myth through this incredible footage.
The film also takes advantage of the conflict between Senna's passion for the purity of racing against the politic of human endeavor . . . but too conveniently sidesteps the fact that those same politics afforded him the opportunity to earn millions of dollars in the process.
Herein lies the dilemma. As F1 fans, we know it. We know it because this story is repeated every single season. It may take different forms, but it is always there. Senna was not the first to meet it head on, however he might have been the quickest to adopt its practice to his own advantage.
I contend it is fair to say that Senna was not stupid. Once he snapped from naivete to realize he could summit on talent alone, he utilized every opportunity to point woeful scrutiny and political tides against his adversary.
I believe Senna so despised the political realities of the sport that he was probably unaware that he'd subscribed to their practice. Perhaps unwittingly, he was fighting fire with fire.
Unfortunately the film does not question Senna's motivations in a completely objective fashion. I also wonder if those outside and now being introduced for the first time to Ayrton Senna, F1, and his impact on the sport any real depth on the matter?
Monday, August 22, 2011
A little movie called "Senna"
CAUTION: SPOILERS AHEAD
As James Hunt so aptly stated, I will never forget the "arrival" of Ayrton Senna.
I had been incredibly fortunate to discover "Grand Prix International" (what probably remains to this day the greatest F1 magazine ever published) on the shelves of Atlanta's Oxford Books in 1984. It just so happened that over the following two years I monthly carried home carefully selected pristine copy after pristine copy of this sacred publication . . . at a time which charted Senna's meteoric rise and his 1985 season at Lotus.
Among numerous demonstrations of sheer jaw dropping skill, Senna's dominant first victory in the rain at Portugal, his immediate attack out of Tamburello into Tosa at Imola, and his literal "drive the wheels off," bonsai performance in the season ending Australian GP at Adelaide stand out in my memory.
Senna grabbed my attention, for certain. By the time 1985 past, he'd already blipped my "all time greats" radar. Senna, however, was still learning. By the time his third and final season with Lotus in 1987 arrived, it was clear success at the pinnacle of motorsport came not on sheer skill alone.
Things grow a bit foggier for me from that point forward. Senna arrived at McLaren . . . and fortunately for me this is where "Senna" the movie picks up. No doubt I was still following F1 with the same zeal I have now, but for some reason . . . perhaps life . . . I could not devote as much energy to the pursuit and therefore lost some of the fascination with Senna the driver that I'd started out with.
How odd; I was practically asleep during one of F1's most memorable eras and thanks to "Senna," I've a worthy retelling of those lost memories! This brings up an important point about the movie, one of which I will elaborate on shortly . . .
. . . in the meantime, I wanted to use the film's recent wider release to stimulate some discussion on the film and the driver. To get the ball rolling, I am soliciting your thoughts on the film. Make no mistake, I've got plenty . . .
As James Hunt so aptly stated, I will never forget the "arrival" of Ayrton Senna.
I had been incredibly fortunate to discover "Grand Prix International" (what probably remains to this day the greatest F1 magazine ever published) on the shelves of Atlanta's Oxford Books in 1984. It just so happened that over the following two years I monthly carried home carefully selected pristine copy after pristine copy of this sacred publication . . . at a time which charted Senna's meteoric rise and his 1985 season at Lotus.
Among numerous demonstrations of sheer jaw dropping skill, Senna's dominant first victory in the rain at Portugal, his immediate attack out of Tamburello into Tosa at Imola, and his literal "drive the wheels off," bonsai performance in the season ending Australian GP at Adelaide stand out in my memory.
Senna grabbed my attention, for certain. By the time 1985 past, he'd already blipped my "all time greats" radar. Senna, however, was still learning. By the time his third and final season with Lotus in 1987 arrived, it was clear success at the pinnacle of motorsport came not on sheer skill alone.
Things grow a bit foggier for me from that point forward. Senna arrived at McLaren . . . and fortunately for me this is where "Senna" the movie picks up. No doubt I was still following F1 with the same zeal I have now, but for some reason . . . perhaps life . . . I could not devote as much energy to the pursuit and therefore lost some of the fascination with Senna the driver that I'd started out with.
How odd; I was practically asleep during one of F1's most memorable eras and thanks to "Senna," I've a worthy retelling of those lost memories! This brings up an important point about the movie, one of which I will elaborate on shortly . . .
. . . in the meantime, I wanted to use the film's recent wider release to stimulate some discussion on the film and the driver. To get the ball rolling, I am soliciting your thoughts on the film. Make no mistake, I've got plenty . . .
Monday, August 1, 2011
Fantastic Budapest
It would be hard to imagine any F1 fan not being captivated with envy witnessing Lewis Hamilton's attack on Sebastian Vettel in the opening stages of the Hungarian Grand Prix. Sliding all over the slick, greasy asphalt, Hamilton provided a display of wheel to wheel combat as it has always been idealized in F1.
Unfortunately for Lewis, his efforts were ultimately derailed by a combination of poor tire strategy and impatience. The Hungaroring is an exceptionally tight circuit. With the race in his pocket, Hamilton spun the car around. The time and place of his mistake and "uh oh" recovery maneuver brought another dance with the FIA stewards and thus a costly drive through.
The truth is that the drive through did not cost him the race, the tire strategy did. However, the aggressive manner in which Hamilton dumped the clutch to spin his McLaren around 180 degrees did not aid that cause nearly as much as one deep breath might have allowing oncoming traffic to pass.
Once again, we've another contrasting example of Hamilton's skill and bravado losing out to patience, maturity, and race craft.
Given the manner in which Lewis opened the proceedings, it is easy to understand why so many F1 fans love him. To his credit, he handled this disappointing result with a braver face than we've seen lately. Hopefully this is a sign that he is in fact growing.
Speaking of race craft, Jenson Button, as he has done so often of late, bided his time. He chose his tires carefully, and then took care of them to maximize the investment. I believe there is an expression that suggests when one is truly good at something, they refine it down to nothing. Is it unfair to suggest that Jenson has done just that? Maybe.
Button did in fact have a couple of spirited dices with his teammate. It would be inaccurate to simplify his tactics as passively waiting for the folly of those ahead. Jenson may not provide the same show as Hamilton, but there is no debating his results. I don't know that he's the most underrated driver on the grid, but he is surely the most underrated world champion in recent memory.
On the other hand, Fernando Alonso wound up with a very important podium finish because of his tenacity. Perhaps Ferrari will one day build a single seater that does not drive like it is on ice, but Alonso continues to overcome a twitchy, errant race car with old fashioned work ethic.
Although the F150th Italia did eventually manage to get away from him, he had set a quick enough pace to cushion the fall and rejoin the race in calm, controlled fashion.
Another great race . . .
Unfortunately for Lewis, his efforts were ultimately derailed by a combination of poor tire strategy and impatience. The Hungaroring is an exceptionally tight circuit. With the race in his pocket, Hamilton spun the car around. The time and place of his mistake and "uh oh" recovery maneuver brought another dance with the FIA stewards and thus a costly drive through.
The truth is that the drive through did not cost him the race, the tire strategy did. However, the aggressive manner in which Hamilton dumped the clutch to spin his McLaren around 180 degrees did not aid that cause nearly as much as one deep breath might have allowing oncoming traffic to pass.
Once again, we've another contrasting example of Hamilton's skill and bravado losing out to patience, maturity, and race craft.
Given the manner in which Lewis opened the proceedings, it is easy to understand why so many F1 fans love him. To his credit, he handled this disappointing result with a braver face than we've seen lately. Hopefully this is a sign that he is in fact growing.
Speaking of race craft, Jenson Button, as he has done so often of late, bided his time. He chose his tires carefully, and then took care of them to maximize the investment. I believe there is an expression that suggests when one is truly good at something, they refine it down to nothing. Is it unfair to suggest that Jenson has done just that? Maybe.
Button did in fact have a couple of spirited dices with his teammate. It would be inaccurate to simplify his tactics as passively waiting for the folly of those ahead. Jenson may not provide the same show as Hamilton, but there is no debating his results. I don't know that he's the most underrated driver on the grid, but he is surely the most underrated world champion in recent memory.
On the other hand, Fernando Alonso wound up with a very important podium finish because of his tenacity. Perhaps Ferrari will one day build a single seater that does not drive like it is on ice, but Alonso continues to overcome a twitchy, errant race car with old fashioned work ethic.
Although the F150th Italia did eventually manage to get away from him, he had set a quick enough pace to cushion the fall and rejoin the race in calm, controlled fashion.
Another great race . . .
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