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Senna. (15.)
 
Directed by Asif Kapadia.


Featuring Aryton Senna, Alain Prost, Ron Dennis. 105 mins


Regardless of what they follow, there is one thing all sports fans will agree on – it was better in the old days. And when it comes to Formula One motor racing, where a desire to maximise performance and revenue has virtually made excitement redundant, this is probably objectively true. So this documentary about the three times world champion and the last man to die racing F1 shares the torch with the Mohammed Ali film When We Were Kings to it, a lament for a passing age of greatness.


Senna the man was fiercely contradictory. A racing driver with a big ego is hardly news but the Brazilian complicated that with a blazing humility. Even his Christianity comes across as being somehow competitive. He was very much the stereotype F1 playboy but compared to the smooth Austin Powers style of say Jenson Button there was a geeky element to Senna; he looked like a very butch Milliband.


Senna the film is resolutely straightforward, made up entirely of archive footage. And what footage it is. Some Fivey Livey Sports Drones were at my screening and you could hear them gasp at moments like the on board film of Senna performing an outrageous overtaking manouevre in the rain at Monaco. But equally remarkable are the scenes in pre-race drivers meetings. The level of access is extraordinary; it seems that in them days everything that happened at a Grand Prix was filmed by someone.


The film is shaped as a conflict between the passionate, wholly committed Senna and his pragmatic, coolly calculating French rival Alain Prost. He is the pure man who believes in competition for competitions sake, Prost is the slightly weaselly operator, well versed in the politics needed to survive in Formula One.


The film was made with the full co-operation of Senna’s family and his charitable work and his importance to Brazil are placed to the fore while some of his wilder, more reckless moments are downplayed, but it isn’t a whitewash. When I was younger sat indoors watching Grand Prix on sunny Sunday afternoons I never liked Senna. And, if I'm honest, during the film I found myself siding with Prost; it must have been terribly egregious for this meticulous and civilised man to see all he worked for being jeopardised by this lunatic, God spouting fanatic who seemed to have limited regard for his own or anyone else’s safety.

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