In Michael Mann’s world, time is everything. His protagonists are often defined by how much or little time they have, seeking to hold onto it as much as possible. In Miami Vice, time is “luck,” but that’s only half of it. For Mann’s men, time is life. And that’s especially true for Enzo Ferrari (Adam Driver).
When audiences first see the titular lead, he’s already intensely focused on making every second count. He wakes up at first light next to his mistress, Linda Lardi (Shailene Woodley), immediately checking the time, and sets about his day in a manner that’s as well-oiled as the machines he makes: he checks on his son, Piero, dresses, and then promptly pushes the car out of the driveway as to not make a sound. But once he hits the pavement, it’s pedal to the metal as he rushes back to his wife, Laura (Penelope Cruz), and the pressing matter on his mind: finding more time.
Ferrari details a critical fork in the road for il Cavallino: It’s 1957, and the Prancing Horses aren’t dancing like they used to, on or off the track. Poor financial and sport results have left the business with two options: win the upcoming Mille Miglia, a grueling 1,000-mile race, or sell to competitors like Ford or Fiat. To add to the metaphorical 10-car pile-up, problems in Ferrari’s personal life are mounting, too. Laura knows about his penchant for mistresses but not this separate family, which arrives in the wake of the sudden death of their son, Dino. Linda’s not happy either; Piero’s got an impending confirmation, and the two parental figures haven’t settled on which surname he’ll take. The clock is tick, tick, ticking away.
Working off a script from Troy Kennedy Martin (who passed in 2009), Mann works to establish the stakes in short order, adding a further propulsiveness to it all — but not without finding moments of quiet amongst the literal and metaphorical roars of engines. A haunting quality lingers over the film, heightened by how Mann frames Driver, frequently in profile or close-ups in these somber moments. Sure, that’s to drive home the emotional stakes of the scene, but they also take on a slightly ethereal quality, as if Dino or one of the many friends Ferrari’s lost to death in his cars are riding spiritual shotgun alongside him in his life.
When it comes to the racing sequences, they are as thrilling and exciting as anything you’d see in Mann’s prior work. Screening a racing movie in a theatrical setting is always the preferred way to go, as you can feel the roar of the engines, and that’s undoubtedly accurate with Ferrari; the Millie Miglia is easily the film’s standout sequence and it’s breathtaking to behold, bolstered by the emotional stakes behind it for everyone involved, from the company itself, down to the drivers who write letters to their loved ones in case they don’t make it back like they’re soldiers heading off to war. You don’t have to squint hard to see a throughline between career driver Piero Taruffi (Patrick Dempsey) and career criminal Neil McCauley; they’re tenaciously masculine — intently focused on their crafts and aware their limited amount of time here might run out sooner rather than later.
Mann finds a worthy vessel for Ferrari in Driver. The 40-year-old convincingly plays a man entering the latter period of his life. When recounting the things — the deaths around him, the impact of the war, his failing marriage — that hardened him, Driver makes Enzo feel as if he’s closer to the end of his life than the beginning. The inverse is true when he’s around Dino; there’s a vitality to how he interacts with his secret child that’s as warm as the sun. Even in his interactions with Laura, there’s still some manner of care there, even if the love is gone. Cruz is great in these scenes with him, but her best comes during the quiet moments when she ruminates over how she wants to navigate a given circumstance.
Ferrari joins Priscilla in the sense that they’re both biopics capable of transcending the sometimes limiting genre by having filmmakers who bring the best parts of themselves to the project. Make no mistake: Ferrari is just as much a Michael Mann movie as Heat, Blackhat, or any of the other beloved projects he’s made. They’re all about men reckoning with their place in the world and trying like hell to hold onto what time they’ve got left. Forgive the pun, but Ferrari is a perfectly-tuned machine, elegantly crafted by the one expert capable of executing it.
