Tropic Sprockets / Ferrari

By Ian Brockway

Director Michael Mann now has a subject as dispassionate as his films: Enzo Ferrari. Simply titled “Ferrari” the story focuses on his company and his relentless pursuit of success. The story manages to be quite compelling, despite its matter-of-fact tone. It is rich in its cast, notably Penelope Cruz and Adam Driver. [Showtimes and trailer at Tropiccinema.com.]

Businessman Enzo Ferrari (Adam Driver) is obsessed with detail, incensed to win the Mille Migla race and make his car company number one. In the midst of this, Mrs. Laura Ferrari (Penelope Cruz) has the sneaking suspicion that she’s not his only woman. Laura is spitting nails and stewing. She is convinced that Enzo is cheating. The iconic man is leading a double life with Lina (Shailene Woodley) and her young son.

Ferrari pushes aside, instead focusing on his car and the race, going compulsively to the track each day.

Laura is beside herself, understandably so, and fumes. At one point she pulls a gun on Enzo. 

Ferrari emerges as a machine himself, calibrated, and calculating, focusing only on motion and speed.

Grandmother Ferrari (Daniela Piperno) dresses in black and is ready with the glaring stare, sure to shake men and women alike to their core. Such scenes speak of Halloween.

While the film is an accurate portrayal of an obsessive, the story’s racing scenes are first rate and nearly make an instant classic. Coupled with palpable danger and immersive sound, the racing sequences are beyond compare. Along with highlighting the contrast between technology and nature, this is one film that speaks of violence and ambition. The cars look savage and animalistic. Red lozenges of death with lusty veneers.

The crash segments parallel an assassination or a terror attack. 

In spite of Ferrari’s myopic attention to mechanical physics, he is haunted. His son dies of muscular dystrophy, and he is stunned by the automotive carnage during the Mille Miglia. 

This film is not only fitting for Michael Mann’s oeuvre of detachment; it is a perfect addition to Adam Driver’s catalogue of either semi-sociopathic zealots, or silent, simmering martyrs.

Write Ian at [email protected]

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