Michael Mann’s Ferrari, reviewed.

★★★☆☆

Biographical filmmaking is so often a celebration. Often, it feels like a sermon. A two or three hour long sermon celebrating how great our icons are. In Ferrari, Michael Mann has recognised these religious connotations, and the state of worship our culture has attached to mortal men (and it is usually men). With the use of some not-so-subtle visual metaphors, Mann conveys this religious attachment to entities of capitalism with back-and-forth cuts between Enzo Ferrari at church engaging in readings of holy scriptures, and the rapturous energy and roaring sounds of a Ferrari. Ferrari is not a just a brand for car aficionados to gush over – it’s a religion – and Enzo is it’s God.

Adam Driver as Enzo has switched gears to that iffy Italian accent once more (House of Gucci). In spite of this, his performance is anything but ‘iffy’. This iteration of Enzo has a restrained presence. The cold, callous, calculated responses we see in his reactions to tragedy leave questions hanging in the air. Is this a man who displays psychopathic tendencies as a result of historical trauma?, or has a conscious choice as ‘the boss’ been made to be emotionally distant for the sake of technological advancement? A true fusion between man and machine.

Elsewhere, Penélope Cruz brings her A-game as the dour Laura Ferrari. A bold move it was indeed, to have made a film about Ferrari, for the dad demographic, and instead choose to make the marital melodrama and squabbling of domestic life the vocal point of your picture. Most of that squabbling takes places over the presence of Lina Lardi (Shailene Woodley) in Enzo’s life. Laura’s conundrum is that she knows Lina isn’t some side-piece she can force Enzo to chuck away, for Enzo and Lina have son. An important thing when succession and heirs is such high point of discussion. She still burns within her grief for her own son (the ‘true’ heir) – “you let him die!”.

Apparently, this marriage drama is something that’s baked into this ‘great men’ tales. At least Hollywood this year would have you believe that with a holy trinity of this, Nolan’s Oppenheimer, and Cooper’s Maestro.

Racing is inherently cinematic, and Mann captures that thrill with his depiction of the 1957 Mille Miglia. Some audience members will know what is coming here, others will not. Mark my words, both camps will be equally shocked. A depiction as graphic as that is sure to cause controversy, but it really elevates Ferrari. It puts the human cost of greatness front-and-centre and asks “is it all worth it?”.

Outside of this segment though, the editing is glacial, and the cinematography is cold and distant. All fine if an audience wants yet another slow-burner tackling toxic masculinity (Mann, I know you have another trick up your sleeve – show us please), but I doubt the demographic paying that cost of admission would say they want that instead of propulsive thrills. A suggestion that those two things have to be mutually exclusive is absurd, but Mann seems to have separated them here entirely.

Ferrari isn’t a celebration of a man. It’s an intellectual assessment of manhood. It’s a deep-dive into our culture’s version of what success looks like. Men will build prisons for themselves and call it success.