Le Mans (1971) - movie review

Some time ago, I wrote a blog post about Le Mans, the 1971 movie set around the famous 24-hour race in France, starring Steve McQueen.  Recently I dug out the DVD again to renew acquaintance with the film, and thought that I would share some of my observations.

It is probably fair to say that opinion on this movie has been mixed down the years. Many have pointed to the excellent racing scenes, but poured scorn on the plot and other aspects of the story. Personally I really like Le Mans, but it almost feels more like a documentary in places, and I can readily appreciate how many "laypeople" will find it pedestrian, dull even. Many things are underplayed, which is admirable from an artistic and authenticity standpoint, but people have perhaps become conditioned to expect a racing movie to be over-the-top and hysterical in tone.

The visuals are lovely, the sound impressive and Michel Legrand's music classy and atmospheric. These all help the film to capture the essence of the event and the times. The plot is hardly imaginative, but I feel that it is handled with restraint, by the standards of racing movies anyway. There is less melodrama, or pandering to the base instincts of the audience. Many of the sub-texts are implied rather than outlined explicitly, especially the emotional and "romantic" elements.

The realism of the racing sequences is difficult to dispute, as the footage was shot with real racing cars and drivers, much of it at the time of the 1970 Le Mans race. However, this does make some of the pitlane scenes seem a little "artificial" by comparison, if not excessively so. Another noticeable trait of the picture is the sparsity of the dialogue.  The narrative and the exposition are driven largely by the visuals and the words of the circuit commentators.

A thing which stands out for me in the film is ambiguity in the characters and their attitudes. The awkwardness of Michael Delaney, for example (well suited to McQueen's "underacting" here), an inscrutability which reminds me slightly of Pete Aron in John Frankenheimer's Grand Prix.  Not really cast in the comic-book image of racing drivers, who are not "meant" to be taciturn or reticent.

Of course the story and the characters are fictional, but I don't really blame the film-makers for distilling it down to "Porsche v Ferrari".  The "heartbeat" sequence before the start of the race strikes us now as hackneyed and even corny, but I guess that it may have been innovative and affecting in the early Seventies. The two main crash sequences are well done, evoking the violence and the energy involved.  The slow-motion reply of Delaney's accident has I think become quite iconic in its way.

Apart from McQueen, the cars are the stars, and few of the supporting actors make much of an impression. Ronald Leigh-Hunt is likeable though as the Gulf-Porsche team manager;authoritative but occasionally avuncular. Elga Andersen also has great screen presence as the racer's widow - those eyes!

In its tone and general aesthetic, Le Mans feels more like European art cinema than Hollywood.  We have the obligatory thrilling climax, but even here things are somewhat inconclusive, in keeping with the generally reflective and sober tenor of the movie.

I still think that, for all its faults, Le Mans is a fine document. Technically very good, and the fact that a mainstream audience would assert that as a movie it "happens" only fitfully frankly elevates it in my estimation.

Turbo times

Only weeks now remain before the new Grand Prix season commences in Melbourne, Australia, and the teams are going through the familiar rituals of unveiling their new cars, to be followed by testing. This year there is even more interest and conjecture than usual, as the engine regulations are undergoing a transformation. Normally aspirated V8s are out, to be replaced by 1.6 litre V6 turbo units.  All this talk of turbos reminds me of F1's previous experience with this form of forced induction motor, from 1977 to 1988.

I first became really interested in racing just as the turbos were beginning to make their presence felt. This was in 1981, when only Ferrari,Renault and Toleman were turbocharged, the French company having pioneered the "innovation" as far back as 1977. I remember that they were still regarded very much as a curiosity, and the Renaults in particular were plagued with poor reliability, although when they kept running long enough they demonstrated that they were the future.  The only question was precisely when that "future" would arrive, and when they would fully supplant the venerable Cosworth DFV.

The 1982 season was very much a transitional one in terms of the balance of power between engine philosophies. Ferrari in particular were slowly mastering reliability and driveability issues, and if Didier Pironi had not suffered grievous injuries at Hockenheim, it is probable that he would have become the first driver to win the title in a turbocharged car. In the event, the driver's championship was once again decided between men driving "atmo"-propelled vehicles.

By 1983, the pendulum had tilted decisively, and the spoils at most races were divided up between Ferrari, Renault and Brabham.  Even now, though, a Cosworth-powered car piloted by a particularly brave driver, on a circuit or in conditions which suited the unit's characteristics, could still prevail. Examples of this were Keke Rosberg at Monaco and John Watson at Long Beach. By this stage, however, even the Williams and McLaren teams had seen the writing on the wall, and had turbo projects in the pipeline.  I recall 1983 as the first real "turbo season", and it kind of passed me by, probably because the imminent demise of the DFV induced in me a form of disorientation. I was probably not the only one who was not yet totally prepared for this brave new world.

So was racing "better" when all or most of the field was turbo-equipped?  Well, it was certainly exciting at times, especially in qualifying around the mid-80s when some teams had in excess of 1000 bhp at their diisposal. Many still wax lyrical about Ayrton Senna's exploits in the Lotus Renaults, and of course there was Rosberg's 160mph lap at Silverstone in '85.  The early laps of some races, at least in 1982 and 1983, before fuel restrictions were introduced, were spectacular and frenetic, with the turbo runners seemingly intent on racing each other to destruction. Monza in 1982 was typical of this trend.

I know that several prominent journalists saw the turbo era of the 80s as one of the high points of the sport's history, because of the distilled, almost primeval drama which the technical developments encouraged, in qualifying most of all. Some offered the opinion that those cars were driven by "real men", and that they rewarded and magnified both bravery and finesse.However, there is also an argument for saying that the massive horsepower and performance differentials made it impossible to appraise driver capabilities, a perilous and unenviable task at the best of times.

As with much nostalgia, we tend to filter out the less agreeable aspects from our memories. In the 1984-86 period, the fuel rules turned some races into economy runs, and raised the spectre of cars running out of fuel in the closing stages of races. It was remarked at the time that qualifying, on stratospheric boost, bore little relation to the race, and was almost a separate event. It is significant that Alain Prost was the pre-eminent figure in mid-1980s F1, being able to juggle the vagaries of tyre wear, fuel consumption and strategy.

By 1986, Honda had begun to master the fuel consumption problems, and dominated the sport for the next two seasons, which contained much dreary and processional racing, as few could hope to match Honda's overall package for speed and reliability. By now, turbos had lost their way, the technology was becoming stale, and Grand Prix racing was looking a little tattered around the edges, with separate classes introduced for normally aspirated contenders, and some participants may have been looking further ahead, anticipating the forthcoming change in the engine regulations. Hence the utter McLaren domination of 1988, as the other manufacturers ceased developing their soon-to-be-redundant turbo engines.

Looking back, turbos, with their aura of extravagance and expense, seemed suited to the glitzy and thrusting 80s, and they broadly corresponded in direction and ethos with trends in other forms of motor sport at the time. The world has changed, though, and the rationale behind the reintroduction of turbos for 2014 is very different to that which triggered their heyday three decades ago.

It remains to be see what effect the 2014-generation turbos will have on the direction of the sport.  I somehow doubt that the raw, chilling and exhilarating spectacle of 1985/86 will return, but I remain cautiously optimistic that they will engender both some renewed technical interest and freshness, and a shake-up, however temporary, in the competitive order of things.

The 2013 Formula 1 Season

So, another season of Grand Prix racing comes to an end, with Interlagos witnessing another victory for the imperious Sebastian Vettel.  It is worth reflecting on the year just passed, and looking forward to what 2014 may have in store.

After the (freakishly) competitive and close-fought 2012 season, expectations were high for another riveting campaign.  Although victories were shared about amongst some of the leading contenders in the opening half of the year, there were ominous signs of the underlying strength of Red Bull and Vettel.  I remember thinking around the time of Canada that the die was already cast, but few were expecting the Vettel steamroller to render the remaining races so disheartening and one-sided.

As a few people have remarked, F1 was "due" a less than sparkling year.  The dividing line between what spawned this year's fare and that of the 2012 season was comparatively thin, and we were lucky to get 2012 as it was. I am far from despondent. Some of the issues which contributed to how 2013 unfolded will not necessarily be there next year;they will doubtless be replaced by new variables and imponderables. To me, Vettel's dominance did not somehow "feel" so overpowering or overwhelming as, for example, Williams in 1992 or McLaren in 1988.  The slender margins were focused in areas where Red Bull personnel excel, and their weaknesses are not ones which are greatly magnified by the current F1 format and circuits.

The sense of ennui and disgruntlement engendered in many quarters by Vettel's domination should not be allowed to obscure the other sub-texts and feats which characterized the season. The gallant and relentless efforts of Fernando Alonso are so taken for granted these days that there is a danger that they become under-valued.  He coped with the adversity, and came out it still exuding some buoyancy. Although the performance of the 2014 Ferrari out of the box gave grounds for cautious optimism, there were a few races where things dipped alarmingly.  How many other drivers could have finished runner-up in the championship under those circumstances?

The presence of Mercedes at or near the front of the field has acquired a greater sense of permanence, and although second place in the Constructors' standings is a fine accomplishment, in a strange away it only serves to underline what still needs to be done. More changes may be in the pipeline, but fine-tuning rather than radical measures may be all that is required, provided that they don't make a mess of embracing the new regulations. By and large, Lewis Hamilton appears to be adjusting to his new surroundings, and a tolerably harmonious partnership with Nico Rosberg has been established.

Some may advance the view that Lotus simply trod water, failing to make that further step, but others may interpret this as consolidation. There is clearly change ahead, and the loss of Kimi Raikkonen to Ferrari deprives the team of its catalyst and spearhead, but the rehabilitation of Romain Grosjean was one of the good news stories of the Formula 1 year.

For McLaren it was a year to forget on the track, but sweetened by the tantalizing prospect of a renewed partnership with Honda in 2015.  Even Jenson Button's renowned good humour and forbearance were severely tested at times, and for Sergio Perez, though an opportunity he could not turn down, it was a hugely challenging season, culminating in his departure. The young Mexican, who occasionally showed glimpses of his raw talent, has much to offer, and it is good to hear that he is likely to remain in Grand Prix racing. There is inevitable speculation that 2014 will be an interim year for McLaren, with the impending change in engine suppliers, but you never know, they might just produce an effective chassis this time around!

So, we move on to the new turbo era. The most radical change in engine regulations since the move to 3.5 litre normally-aspirated units in 1989?. There are a few ways of regarding this new dawn. There is a school of thought which maintains that all major regulation changes unduly favour the larger, well-financed teams, whose resources give them the capacity to concentrate on the current season's contest, whilst at the same time laying substantial groundwork for the new requirements. Also, the perceived tightness of the modern rules does not perhaps allow such fluctuations and dislocations as occurred, for example, in the early 1980s, when turbo units were becoming more commonplace. On the other hand, the "envelope of uncertainty" surely makes it more than likely that one team or engine manufacturer could hit a sweet spot, and prosper in this new age, while others may struggle to adapt initially. Added to the continued vagaries of the tyre situation, this is surely a recipe for potentially greater volatility fluidity?

Whatever reservations or cynicism one may have, however jaded we may have become by the predictability of the recent Grands Prix, once the New Year is upon us, and the car launches and testing commence, the spark and buzz will ignite anew, and we will relish the prospect of a new season.

A couple of other random thoughts. It is great that Felipe Massa is to remain in the sport. The move to Williams could herald a new lease of life for the likeable Brazilian. Their driver line-up looks to be a perfect blend of experience and youthful vigour.  My other abiding hope is that Nico Hulkenberg also finds a race seat for next year.  If he does not, then there is genuine reason for us to be disgruntled. Encouragingly, we are hearing rumours of a Hulkenberg/Perez pairing at Force India. That should be worth watching....

Roll on 2014!

In The Name Of Glory - Tom Rubython

Continuing my post-season reading efforts, I have recently completed another book which formed part of my Kindle "backlog".  This was In The Name Of Glory by Tom Rubython, a study of the momentous 1976 Formula 1 season, and more specifically the championship contest between James Hunt and Niki Lauda.

The author does have his detractors amongst racing enthusiasts, and it has to be said that the subtitle of this book (1976 - The Greatest Ever Sporting Duel) hardly inspired confidence.  However, I was prepared to give this one a chance........

The most noticeable thing at first glance was the brevity of this publication, certainly in comparison to the two other Rubython ones which I have previously read, The Life Of Senna and Shunt, the latter of which I blogged about here:-

Shunt - The Story of James Hunt

A couple of contentious assertions early on in the book rather set the tone for me, particularly the one concerning Lauda's supposed attitude to losing the championship in such circumstances.  What is said runs totally against the grain of the majority of perceived wisdom on the subject.  Also, it is stretching things to imply that the 1976 season was uniquely dramatic, exciting or eventful.

The book contains a few factual errors.  Lauda's debut in Austria in 1971 is not mentioned, and he did not win the 1974 Belgian Grand Prix. There was no Canadian Grand Prix in 1975, and Haiti is not in South America.  These things tend to grate after a while....

The thing which most perturbed me, though, was the tendency for hyperbole and exaggeration.  Personality clashes, or personality traits, of certain individuals are laboured excessively, presumably to heighten the sense of abundant frisson.Motor racing, like life in general, tends to be a subtle and complex endeavour, and therefore best seen in a million shades of grey.  However, here the author seems at pains to interpret things in extremes. Where the 1976 season is concerned, this is unnecessary, as the reality was in itself sufficiently remarkable...

To suggest at one point that Luca di Montezemolo was solely responsible for Ferrari's mid-1970s revival is also a novel interpretation of events.  I dare say that Messrs Lauda and Forghieri would have something to say about that.  This is an example of the author's "all or nothing" approach to some topics.

There is an appraisal also of the feverish politics which supposedly gripped the Ferrari camp around that time, especially when di Montezemolo became less involved in the Formula 1 effort.  Again, there may be a little embellishment, but one can gain a good idea of the backdrop to Lauda's campaign, and these passages should be of some value to those not previously familiar with the stories.

There is much prurient, if entertaining, focus on James Hunt's lifestyle.  Where the book did score some bonus points for me was in its efforts to detail Lauda's upbringing, and his early racing activities, including the way in which he raised finance, and incurred the wrath of some family members along the way.

Unsurprisingly, much of the Hunt-orientated material will be very familiar to those who have read Rubython's Hunt biography.

For all my reservations about the book, the raw facts of the story are enough to make this an entertaining read, if one takes some of the author's flights of fancy with a pinch of salt.

Grand Prix - the movie

When it comes to motion pictures about the sport of motor racing, the record of success would have to be described as mixed at best.  Indeed, I have seen and heard a few observers venture the opinion that some of the worst creations ever committed to celluloid have been motorsport-related.  However, a few efforts shine like a beacon amongst the general mediocrity, and remain vaguely definitive.  One of these is the 1966 movie Grand Prix, directed by John Frankenheimer.

It was an opportune time to be conceiving a film about Grand Prix racing.  In 1966, the new 3-litre engine formula was instituted, and a new breed of more meaty and muscular machines entered the arena.  These cars looked and sounded more dramatic and imposing than their 1.5 litre predecessors.  The elegant European aesthetic of the mid-1960s was also a strong ingredient in the movie's appeal.

As well as taking advantage of circumstance, the producers carried off a master-stroke by enlisting the co-operation of the Formula 1 circus, or at least most of it.  By filming at the actual venues during the race meetings, they imbued the picture with an authenticity with most other examples of this sub-genre have manifestly lacked.

As for the plot, well if not totally implausible, then it errs decisively towards the "Hollywood".  Not that most of the events depicted have not occurred in real life, but not condensed into just a few months, and revolving around a few select people! To some extent, any misgivings concerning about the story-line are ameliorated by the movie's excellence in other departments....

One of the areas in which Grand Prix excels is in its cinematography, the race action sequences being highly accomplished and advanced for their time.  Indeed, these portions of the film even stand up to 21st century scrutiny. In a wider sense, the film is visually luxurious and sumptuous, trouble seemingly being taken to focus on landmarks and the opulent.

Of the actors involved, I find James Garner's performance as Pete Aron to be the most convincing and impressive.  Garner capably constructs Aron as something of an outsider, a strong and silent type.  Hardened and quite cynical, but at the same time a humane and sensible figure.  Garner's overall plausibility and impact in the role may be related to his apparent affinity for racing.

The other performance which I find both credible and accomplished is that of Jessica Walter as Pat Stoddard.  She comes across as what might have been the public's perception of the typical racing driver's wife of the time, but the character is believable, and as an added bonus Ms Walter is very easy on the eye!

Yves Montand is assured as Jean-Pierre Sarti, evoking the gravitas but increasing weariness of a Fangio-esque elder statesman. It has to be said that some of the other actors did not work quite as well in their roles, whatever those with rose-tinted glasses may say.  The poor acting in places is an irritant and a blemish, even if it is unlikely to perturb unduly the people who will view the picture.  Some of the acting by the racing drivers is cringe-inducing, but they can be excused!

Having said that the elegance and stylishness of 1960s Europe is an enticing backdrop to Grand Prix, it also sometimes strikes me that 1960s motor racing was quite conservative, "square" even, when compared to other arenas of cultural endeavour of the time.  The "dolce vita" ambience therefore could be viewed as a touch dated, whatever its seductiveness.

The film does convey the sense of community and togetherness which, by all accounts, prevailed in those days in the racing scene, and which is so often cited as one of the main ways in which the sport has altered in the ensuing decades.  At the same time, the increasing professionalism and commercial pressures are not totally overlooked.  It was not always about camararderie and chivalry...

As is obligatory in racing films, there is much philosophising about the dangers and risks, although in fairness this is not done to excessive lengths or in a sensationalistic way.  The dialogue on this subject, and related matters,  is comparatively mature and understated, rarely descending into mawkishness.  For example, the scene outside the pub after the British Grand Prix, involving Sarti and Louise Frederickson, is very well judged.

One criticism which I would level against the script is that there is occasional superfluous "fluff", mostly in the downtime when the cars are not on track.  Although it can be contended that these passages would appeal to the "general" audience, discarding them would also have made the film shorter in length.  Perhaps they should have made an "alternative" edited version, cutting out the more frivolous parts, for the benefit of petrolheads?

The movie's makers deviated from the real 1966 calendar by having the Italian Grand Prix at Monza as the final race of the season, and also by staging the race on the old banked circuit. For dramatic effect, these decisions were perfectly understandable. The Monza sequences are beautifully constructed, with the circuit  presented as the inspiring "cathedral" of motorsport.  Tension is created, and many of the strands and sub-plots coalesce.

Granted, the four-man championship showdown may stretch credulity for some observers, but the nature of the race itself was not too dissimilar to many Grands Prix which took place at Monza during that period! The final scene of the entire movie is one of its most masterly and evocative, with James Garner strolling down the pit straight at Monza, in front of deserted grandstands.  Spine-tingling stuff....

Despite the reservations, Grand Prix remains a great looking and sounding film, and to a large degree effectively captures the organic and analog F1 of the mid-1960s.  It remains amongst the most credible mainstream movies made about auto-racing, and the much-hyped and anticipated efforts of more recent times have almost without exception failed to hold a candle to it. It is still a benchmark of sorts. The conditions under which Frankenheimer's work was made will in all probability never be replicated, and this  militates against something matching it.  Technology and finances are no substitute for realism, passion, ingenuity, and that intangible "magic"....

Gilles Villeneuve

Increasingly these days, I blanch at the idea of having "heroes", putting people on pedestals, or relying on one person or interest for my emotional sustenance. Hero worship, or other related obsessions, have been consigned to my past. More often than, they prove corrosive or counter-productive.

There was a time, however, when I, like other confused, insecure and impressionable kids, craved someone to look up to, to relate to, to believe in.  One of the first people to fulfil this role for me was the racing driver Gilles Villeneuve.

As is often the way with these things, it happened almost randomly.  I had been aware of motor racing before, but it had shimmered in and out of my consciousness. Then, one soporific Sunday afternoon in 1981, our TV became tuned to coverage of the Monaco Grand Prix. I did not recognise most of the drivers' names, and the technical ins-and-outs were beyond my ken, but the one thing which did capture my imagination was the driving of the number 27 Ferrari.

At the next race, at Jarama, Gilles won again, this time leading home a baying pack of pursuing cars.  I had found my new hero.  Then it struck me that this was the same guy who had performed those heroics in Holland back in '79.

Looking back, a combination of factors drew me to Gilles.  His unquenchable spirit, humility and underdog status were part of the appeal.  Also, at the time, I was going through a dark and bewildering time in my own young life, and Gilles represented something pure, heroic and optimistic to hold on to.

Of course, I naively expected the run of successes to continue. Ignorant of the vagaries of racing, little did I know that circumstances and the hand of fortune had contributed to the back-to-back victories.  My mind was ill-equipped to cope with the reversals and mishaps which followed during the remainder of the 1981 season.  I was dispirited particularly by his trip up the escape road in Austria, whilst being challenged for the lead.

Like many a callow youth, I learned through disappointment that my new hero was not infallible, but was human like the rest of us. Once I had readjusted my outlook, this made me appreciate Gilles' qualities even more.

The auguries for the 1982 season were good for Ferrari and Gilles, and strong showing in Brazil and Long Beach seemed to back up this optimism.  I recall being unhappy with events at Imola, but was largely oblivious to the political background, and the alleged duplicity of Didier Pironi.  There was still everything to play for....

On 8 May 1982, I had been out with friends, and returned home in the late afternoon.  As soon as I had entered the house, my mother informed me that there had been a serious accident during practice at Zolder.  It soon became clear that Gilles was involved.  I watched the footage on the television news, hoping that this was all a bad dream.

That evening, as the sun began to go down, I vividly remember walking to the bottom of our driveway, with tears in my eyes, and just staring into space for many minutes. 

Since that day, I have respected many people in many fields of endeavour, but rarely have I allowed myself to idolize them as I did with Gilles for that eleven of twelve month period.

Senna - DVD review

For various reasons, and much to my chagrin, I did not get around to seeing Senna at the time of its release in the cinemas. However this documentary film has now been released on DVD, and these are my thoughts.

I approached the viewing with mild trepidation, having heard and read the praise lavished on the movie since it came out, and worried whether the reality would live up to the hype. Also, I had seen several other Senna-related documentaries over the years, and wondered if this one would just re-hash and repackage the material from previous efforts.

My concerns, I am happy to report, were largely misplaced. I found Senna to be a beautifully produced film, meticulously researched and well-balanced.

I would not describe it as a definitive documentary about Senna's racing career. Little effort is made to examine the technical aspects of racing, and some portions of Ayrton's exploits are afforded scant coverage. Rather, it is primarily a human story, possibly aimed at the layman or casual fan rather than the racing "anorak". Having said that, there is plenty here for any Formula 1 enthusiast to relish.

Particularly impressive is the amount of rare archive material which has been uncovered for this film. It was not just a case of showing the same old familiar footage. Some of the material from the Brazilian media was particularly revealing.

Thankfully, the producers resisted the temptation to employ "talking heads", in the form of journalists and racing people, to tell much of the story.  Any such analysis, supplied by a select few observers, was in audio form only, accompanied by pictures, and was used largely to add context to the narrative. These contributions, together with the striking footage, and the words of Senna himself, served to drive things forward admirably.

Instead of being a dry, chronological account of Senna's achievements in the sport, the film concentrates on several of the pivotal periods and races in his time in F1. From Monaco in 1988, which many regard as a watershed, because of his otherworldly qualifying performance and unforced error whilst leading the race, to the Japanese Grand Prix of the same year, when he clinched his first title, and other episodes.

Naturally, a sizeable proportion of the movie is taken up by the tumultuous years of the Senna/Prost rivalry, from the relatively cordial, but still tense, days of 1988, to the outright animosity of 1989/90. Although Senna's side of the story is told, the film is quite even-handed and non-partisan.

Perhaps the passing of time has enabled some observers to be more dispassionate and candid about the events of that era, and this seems to emerge in the film. The sourcing of commentaries from various countries (UK, Brazil, USA etc) also helps to instill a sense of balance.

Some of the most illuminating passages of the film are the clips from drivers' briefings, and Senna's interactions with his fellow drivers and officialdom.  The tension evident in those meetings is palpable, particularly in Japan in 1990. Senna's increasing concern about safety matters is also clear, from 1990 onwards.

I would not go so far as to say that this is a "warts and all" documentary, but neither is it a deferential whitewash. For example, the infamous interview with Jackie Stewart is given an airing, as are the criticisms by the likes of Alain Prost.

The sections dealing with racing are interspersed with home and family footage, and some effort is made to assess Senna's social impact in his home country. I think the film-makers pitched this side of things just about right.

In addressing the traumatic events of Imola in 1994, the film does not try to be wise after the event, and allows the pictures and words to tell the sad story. The aftermath of Imola is dealt with beautifully;moving but not maudlin.

As mentioned before, the film does not attempt to be an exhaustive chronicle, but I was surprised that scant mention was made of Senna's relationship with Gerhard Berger, and that Ayrton's exploits in the junior formulae, and especially his Formula 3 rivalry with Martin Brundle, were largely ignored. Admittedly, these are minor complaints, in view of the time constraints.

One very nice touch was seen at the end of the film, when the story came full circle, and we returned to Senna's karting days, before politics, money and pressure held sway.

For me, Senna was definitely worth the wait. An endearing and compelling portrait of a complex man and his remarkable, if tragically short, life.

Book Review - "Shunt - The Story of James Hunt", by Tom Rubython

Having received distinctly mixed feedback, I had delayed purchasing this book, but eventually relented and decided to judge it for myself.

The first thing to make clear is that this is a very lengthy book, and it cannot be accused of skimping on detail. The style of writing will certainly not be to everyone's taste, but it can still be quite a rewarding read, for several reasons.

It would seem that the author had access to sources not available or sought out by Hunt's previous biographers. This ensures that some stories and information in Rubython's may be reaching a wide, mainstream audience for the first time. Certainly, several gaps in my knowledge were filled, particularly on matters hitherto submerged beneath the rich tapestry which was Formula 1 in the 1970s.

The life of Hunt both before and after his Formula 1 racing career are covered in more depth than in previous similar publications, although at times perhaps the level of detail is excessive.

One of the most illuminating aspects of the book was its concentration on the financial and promotional elements of motor racing at that time, when sponsorship and television coverage were still in their infancy. It was fascinating to read how informal, almost amateurish, things were as recently as 1975. The one thing I could do without was the constant quoting of figures and monetary amounts!

My main criticism of the book is its apparent tendency towards hyperbole and even exaggeration of some events. The life of James Hunt was hardly mundane, and little sensationalism is needed to turn it into a compelling story.  Some fairly insignificant and unimportant incidents are overplayed in order to embellish parts of the tale, and the "all or nothing" mode of language employed is irritating at times.

Although casual readers will probably not notice, any F1 "anorak" will be surprised by the number of historical inaccuracies and errors contained in the text.  This did slightly mar my enjoyment of the book as a whole.

The author is not afraid to pass judgement on aspects of Formula 1, particularly the transition towards ground-effect, and its impact on the quality of the racing. Not everyone will agree with his interpretation of events, but to his credit, he does not attempt to sugar-coat the Grand Prix scene of the time, or indeed Hunt's role in it.

Perhaps also I could have done without the constant references to economic and political events of the times. I accept that this is sometimes desirable for the purposes of context, but for me it went a little too far in this instance.

Later in the book, efforts are to made to analyse Hunt's complex persona, and also to document his trials and tribulations following retirement from racing. Doubtless many readers will find this the most revealing, and indeed moving, part of the book.

In summary, I would say that this is a mixed bag. Plenty of information to be extracted, if one can see past the "over the top" style of writing, and the inaccuracies. Those seeking a more condensed and temperate account of Hunt's life may wish to seek out the biography written by the Canadian journalist Gerald Donaldson.