Itās 1957. Enzo Ferarri, played by , gets up in the early morning, leaves the bed of Lina Lardi (), the woman he loves, caresses his 10-year-old son, gets into his car and drives away. Yet the creator of the famous, usually bright red, high-performance Ferrari automobiles, in an elegant suit and sunglasses, does not climb into a hot sports car; his vehicle is a dull gray-green four-door Peugeot 403, a middle-class family car.
But heās late, and a close shot shows him shifting the gears hard, as if heās racing ā although instead of a slick and tidy stick on the floor, Ferrariās modest Peugeot has a clunky gear-shift mounted on the steering column. Itās the first sign that Ferrariās life may be cluttered with contradiction and pretention.
He goes to his official home, where he supposedly lives with his wife Laura (), who berates him, pistol in hand, about what to tell people, while he is distracted by phone calls about prospective race drivers.
The feels cluttered and unruly, but director may intend that as the chaotic picture of this manās life. The ringing telephone interrupts his stormy moments with Laura; new race drivers arrive by train and bus. Then to the barbershop, where heās teased about how Maserati, another race car legend, has a better car. After that, Ferrari visits the grave of his son with Laura who died of kidney disease some years ago. Then to church, a scene which the movie meshes with Ferrari overseeing a time trial at a racetrack, so that men in the pews are checking their stopwatches. And at that time trial, the gears jam and the hot red Ferrari flips into the air, cartwheels end over end and lands in a crumpled heap, the driver dead.
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On top of all this comes money troubles. Ferrari says that while Jaguar races cars to push consumer sales, Ferrariās goal is racing ā and the company is failing. He wants his wife ā co-founder and co-owner ā to give him control of her shares so he can make a deal, maybe with Ford to keep the Ferrari company afloat.
The movie Ferrari shows whatās beneath the manās slicked-back hair, the constant sunglasses, the rich manās life with mistress and wife, and racing the high-toned Formula One cars ā a world where everyone appears well-dressed, like formal gardens. But also embedded in Ferrariās life is the constant courting of spectacular fiery death. Michael Mann opens the film with a black and white sequence of a car race, probably in the late 1940s, which ends with a car flying out of control. Ferrari tells his drivers of āour deadly passion, our terrible joyā ā and this before a big race that ends with a crash that also kills adults and children along the road.
The film Ferrari may not satisfy everyone, partly because it doesnāt give any answers. Thereās no forceful story with a clear direction and resolution. The well-named Adam Driver plays Ferrari as distant and pre-occupied. But the movie has a sense of how a life contains a lot of ambiguity, moments that donāt fit together neatly. The loud and jarring images of racing from driversā point of view play against the muddled daily routines of a pretentious man. All through the vision of a now-80-year-old filmmaker who thinks about death.
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