The vintage of Italy meets the vintage of history in Ferrari. The story of Enzo Ferrari unfolds under the direction of Michael Mann and takes audiences behind the scenes of the glory of what the Ferrari brand has been, by way of what it has suffered.
The transformation of Adam Driver, one of Hollywood’s most unsuspecting stars, into Enzo Ferrari leaves little to be desired. Driver takes on the age of Ferrari with unexpected delicacy that satisfies the role. He delivers a thoughtful portrayal of the famed motor racing driver and entrepreneur, offering nuances compatible with the blurred lines of stoicism and unrelenting fear.
Penelope Cruz’s portrayal of Laura Ferrari is the personification of grief in many of its forms. Cruz becomes the embodiment of a grieving mother whose sense of loss competes with the knowledge that there is still more to live for. Cruz gives each scene, each character a force to reckon with in her depiction of strength that is ready to succumb to its weariness at any moment.
Shailene Woodley’s Lina Lardi is a little more vague and docile than one would hope for. Though the role of Lina, in the lives of the Ferraris, is captured at a time when she and her son Piero are a little less in focus in the big picture of Ferrari’s life, the emotions associated with being a secret shame in the life of an international brand are lost on Woodley. Where emotions for her son’s looming identity crisis would reserve room for impassioned responses, there was none.
Though Patrick Dempsey’s portrayal of Piero Taruffi didn’t hold significant screen time, his real-life relationship with racing is noteworthy. Dempsey Racing was founded in 2006 with a mission to cultivate new talent.
The cinematic quality of Ferrari mirrors that of the classic air of Italy as well as the tone of history. The wash of the scenes heightens the luster of the race cars, but reduces the crispness and faux edginess you find in films like Gran Turismo, giving the full production an honest feel and allowing audiences to trust the unfolding of the story. This element is what allows the jaw-dropping crash scenes to stun viewers into silence.
The racetracks of old don’t hold the same high-octane excitement that we’ve grown accustomed to. The flashiness of the tracks, the cars, and drivers, the vibrant uniforms of pit crews somehow heightens the adrenaline of viewers, minimizing the shock of on-screen crashes in comparison. In Ferrari, even with the vroom of the vehicles, there’s a lull you’re snapped out of when a car is sent flying.
While the film merely glimpses into the personal lives of a few of the drivers, their relationships to races were portrayed similarly to that of soldiers on the eve of war. The potential of imminent death weighed enough to warrant goodbye letters to their loves but not enough to risk losing the race for extended pit stops.
All in all, there’s a somberness inspired by the unfolding of Ferrari’s story. The pride that comes before the fall doesn’t always look like a blatant disregard that warrants humbling. It layers the presence of pain and fear. It highlights the nuances that shouldn’t be ignored when unpacking history. Where some might see an egomaniac —Saturn devouring his sons— others will see stages of grief battling the need to create and build and win out over a sense of loss that won’t allow anything to feel like enough.
