Ferrari

By Joanna Langfield

Why didn’t this one sweep me up and carry me away?

Michael Mann’s well shot, well acted biography of the legendary car designer has all the makings of a full throttle drama. There’s a tempestuous marriage, an anxious mistress, a business on the verge of bankruptcy, lots of hot sex and near supersonic road races. But somehow, the movie about all of this feels slow. And deliberate. And it should have been anything but.

An almost unrecognizable Adam Driver plays the central role of Enzo Ferrari, the race car driver who became the designer and business tycoon behind the race car line that bears his name. He plays this man as an almost impenetrable force, elegant and unfettered, even as the world he has created around him is heading towards disaster. And I appreciated his restraint. But the whole time I was watching, I kept thinking of other race car movies, in particular Ron Howard’s underappreciated, excellent Rush. And, surprisingly to me, the movie House of Gucci, (also starring Driver) which I didn’t even particularly like. But, gotta give that one props for passion. And that is something that, despite the storyline, feels missing here.

Except for one thing. And that is Penelope Cruz. What at first looks like a hoot of a performance widens into one that becomes much more textured and arresting. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her, whenever she took the screen. Which she sure does. Cruz balances the sadness of the jilted wife with the fury of the one who holds the purse strings. I may have come to this movie for its director, lead actor and race scenes, but I left wanting more of Cruz’s Laura Ferrari. Make a movie about her! That is sure to get our hearts racing.