Synapse to Cintax
A Formula for Genius
I appear to have experienced documentary-overload this week with Adam Curtis’ latest brilliant creations already splayed out all over my mind’s eye. It follows that a viewing of Senna – the much-lauded and much-anticipated biopic of the eponymous Brazilian F1 racing driver – was an indulgent way to top off the week. I wrote a piece some time back (Re: Animator) which harped on about how this movie won the World Cinema Audience Award for Documentary Film at Sundance. Still, much like the man at its heart who was guilty of achieving so much, it transcends accolades. In a similar vein, the (deserved) limelight it looks back upon reflects a flawed ‘hero’ who rebelled against ever being judged within such restrictions. For him, amidst the politics, money and fame it was always about ‘pure driving.’
Quite simply, Senna is an incredible piece of filmmaking. Director Asif Kapadia stitches together a vast medley of stock / home video and news reports to create an immaculately told story from start to finish – I guess it helps when your subject was as widely filmed as he. Still, at no point does it use talking heads which would likely take you away from the drama on-screen. As a result, it loses neither momentum nor excitement and trains its focus always upon its ‘star.’
Senna himself is Hollywood gold; as formidable, likeable, charismatic and ballsy a character imaginable. And he exudes charm – when asked, “How does it feel to be the world champion?” he simply answers, “It’s not a bad feeling at all is it?” Moreover, his susceptibilities make him that much more relatable. It is these susceptibilities – in light of battles with the French-racer Alain Prost, political sagas within the ranks of the FIA organisation (that Senna initially and naively misplays) – that add real drama to the mix. For this isn’t simply a clear-cut eulogy.
You and I both know the ending but it’s one that feels particularly burdensome given the showing of humility that precedes it. The dread of the crash is palpable given other events that occurred prior to it as well as the sense of foreboding given Senna’s own visionary experiences. In spite of the premonitory crashes which he himself witnessed it’s clear he could never quit.
In terms of his death and the events which immediately follow, this is all handled without becoming ‘tragedy porn’ (or the sense of ‘oh dearism’ that the aforementioned Curtis has talked about in relation to popular media portrayals of shocking events). In fact, such a connection would seem wholly irrelevant in this instance given the connection one feels with Senna’s life throughout the film. Of most poignancy is the realisation that he was held up by many of the Brazilian fans who saw him as rising above the societal chaos they encountered on a daily basis. To paraphrase the words of one woman interviewed at the time: they need stability, improved health, food and water but also a bit of joy. Now that joy has gone.
It’s as fitting a tribute as any that Senna sets the bar so high. As a non-F1 fan, it’s heartfelt, extremely moving and a portrayal of a man always moving at extreme speed. Be you a fan of motor racing or not, it’s simply a must-see.
