Jack O’Connell | Bouquets & Brickbats

04/01/24

Cineworld, Edinburgh

Director Michael Mann has been plying his trade since the late 60s, with varying degrees of success, occasionally coming up with pure gold with films like The Last of the Mohicans and Heat. Recently, he’s concentrated on more personal works and Ferrari is very much a passion project, something he’s been tinkering with for years, based on a screenplay by the late Troy Kennedy Martin.

It’s not the kind of biopic we might have expected, but instead focuses on a single turbulent year in Enzo Ferrari’s life(1957), when his iconic sports car company is speeding dangerously close to extinction, mainly because Enzo (a convincingly-aged Adam Driver) is much more interested in his cars winning races than he is in selling them.

Meanwhile, his domestic life is also a holy mess. Since the untimely death of his much-loved son, Enzo has become estranged from his wife, Laura (a smouldering Penélope Cruz, threatening in every scene to steal the film from its titular hero). Enzo is spending much of his spare time in the company of his mistress, Lina (Shailene Woodley), with whom he has another son. This seems to be an open secret in Enzo’s neighbourhood of Modena, but Laura is yet to find out – and there are sure to be fireworks when she does.

And then Enzo’s business manager gives him an ultimatum. If he wants to sell enough cars to save the company, he must enter – and win – the gruelling Mille Miglia road race, at the same time seeing off his main competitor, Maserati. If he fails, it will be game over.

So, no pressure.

Ferrari is a handsome production, the 1950s era convincingly evoked right down to the last detail. Despite the nominative determinism, Driver doesn’t get to sit behind a steering wheel unless you count the knackered old jalopy in which he putters around the countryside. It’s left to younger men like the ambitious Alfonso de Potago (Gabriel Leone) or old hand Peter Collins (Jack O’Connell) to climb into those vintage cars and send them roaring around the track.

The racing scenes are perhaps the film’s strongest suit, the cars screaming along country roads with such visceral intensity you can almost smell the petrol, feel the wheels juddering beneath you. Incredibly, the cars had no roll bars back then, not even seat belts, so accidents were generally disastrous. One such scene is so brilliantly staged it actually has me exclaiming two words out loud (the first of them being ‘Oh!’). In another sequence, a nerve-wracking race is intercut with scenes of Enzo at a church service, amplifying the point that, in Modena, sports car racing is perceived as a kind of religion. And I Iove the scene on the eve of Mille Miglia where drivers write letters to their partners, for all the world like soldiers about to go into battle.

There’s plenty to enjoy in Ferrari but it won’t be for everyone. Petrolheads will doubtless feel that there isn’t enough actual racing to keep them happy, while the many scenes of marital discord and the various wheelings and dealings behind the scenes can sometimes feel suspiciously like padding. But there’s no doubting Mann’s obsession with his subject and his ability to capture every detail with considerable flair.

Ferrari offers a distinctly bumpy ride, with no opportunity to strap in.

3.6 stars

Philip Caveney

13/01/20

In the year 2020, who even remembers the name of Jean Seberg? Not many people judging by the meagre crowd gathered at tonight’s screening.

But hers is a fascinating story of toxic stardom, of a young performer whose life was systematically destroyed by the FBI; of a reckless but well-intentioned young woman, who got embroiled in events she couldn’t hope to control – events that would eventually destroy her.

Catapulted to stardom at the age of seventeen, Seberg starred in Otto Preminger’s Saint Joan and suffered serious burns when her character’s onscreen immolation went horribly wrong. A few years later, she became the darling of the French New Wave when she starred in Jean Luc Godard’s Breathless. But Seberg, directed by Benedict Andrews, examines her ill-fated trip to Hollywood in the late 60s, where she’d gone to film the Western musical Paint Your Wagon. (Or ‘Clint Eastwood Sings!’ as it’sfondly remembered my many.)

Seberg (Kristen Stewart) reluctantly leaves her husband Roman (Yvan Attal) at home with their young son. On the plane to America, she meets up with Hakim Jamal (Anthony Mackie), an influential player in the burgeoning Black Power movement. She shows solidarity with his cause, contributing funds for the school he runs and, shortly afterwards, embarks on an affair with him. This brings her to the attention of the FBI, where operative Jack Solomon (Jack O’Connell) is directed to put her under intense surveillance. When Seberg starts to engage with more powerful members of the Black Panthers, the agency sets put to discredit her by making the details of her affair with Jamal public – and, in the increasingly poisonous atmosphere that ensues, Seberg’s sanity is pushed to the edge of the abyss…

Seberg is an interesting if somewhat flawed film. Stewart is an assured actor (and, given the invasive media coverage she herself has endured, it’s easy to see what attracted her to this role), but the fictional elements of this retelling of Seberg’s story are rather less successful. O’Connell’s tightly buttoned FBI man doesn’t really have enough to do, hanging around the edges of events, listening in on her via bugging devices and serving as the audience’s collective conscience. His exchanges with his hard nosed colleague Carl Kowalski (Vince Vaughan) are nicely drawn but don’t add much to the telling.

The era is nicely evoked but I would have liked to have seen some recreations of the filming of Paint Your Wagon thrown into the mix. (This is, after all, a biopic.) Perhaps there simply wasn’t the budget for that approach or more likely the filmmakers couldn’t obtain the rights. There are a couple of tantalising glimpses from St Joan and Breathless, but its not enough.

In some ways, this could be seen as the tale of a luckless individual crushed by the corrupt might of American law enforcement. But really, as Seberg herself says, ‘I am not the victim here.’ There is a much bigger story – a shocking demonstration of the depths that the American justice system will sink to in order to prevent black people from ever achieving any sort of equality.

There seem to be quite a few such stories around right now. Add Just Mercy and Richard Jewell to the mix and we’re beginning to see a familiar trope. All of these films offer the same narrative: America is a corrupt and unforgiving place and things aren’t getting any better for the poor and the dispossessed.

This is worth seeing for Stewart’s powerful performance in the title role, but I can’t help feeling it could have been more effective than it ultimately is.

3.8 stars

Philip Caveney