Producer-director Michael Mann has been trying to get this movie made for thirty years. (His co-screenwriter Troy Kennedy Martin died in 2009!) But Ferrari has finally crossed the finish line in style. It’s exciting, intelligent, witty and elegant, with a central performance that’s a knockout.
In some ways the delays have accrued to its benefit: CGI has come a long way and enabled crucial scenes to be filmed in credible (and grim) detail. But Mann has done his best to avoid such trickery: he commissioned a fleet of 1957 red Ferrari replicas to use in his picture. With due thanks to cinematographer Erik Messerschmidt and editor Pietro Scalia the racing scenes are arguably the most vivid and visceral ever committed to film. Extra applause for David Werntz, whose sound design is a key reason to watch this film in a theater if at all possible.
Adam Driver delivers a transformative performance as Enzo Ferrari that makes you forget who he is behind the makeup and Italian accent. Penélope Cruz leaves both ego and glamor behind to play the car-maker’s long-suffering wife, whose wrath knows no limits.
You don’t need to be interested in racing cars to become involved with this film; there is no entrance exam. What we get is a layered, nonlinear portrait of a man so obsessed with creating a perfect car that he allows everything else in his life to take a back seat, pun intended. When we meet his wife and begin to learn her backstory, the portrait of Enzo becomes clearer. He has compartmentalized his existence life and her wily moves constitute her response. A haggard, unglamorous Cruz never loses sight of the reality of her character, whose behavior is not unreasonable once we know the source of her volcanic anger.
Every actor brings baggage to the characters he plays, but after a while I forgot I was watching Adam Driver and became emotionally invested in Enzo Ferrari. That is moviemaking magic at work, and it’s just one reason Ferrari rates a spot on my Top Ten list for this year.
