Ayrton Senna was a hero of my youth. I’m not alone: the late Brazilian three-time Formula One world champion inspired countless fans worldwide, and seventeen years after his death at Imola remains arguably the greatest racing driver in the history of motorsport. So it’s about time this documentary tribute was made. Senna is a carefully assembled collection of classic footage that, though patchy and at times overly kind to its subject, paints a compelling portrait of the racing driver and the man; it’s also a superbly entertaining and high-energy picture for seasoned race fans and tyros alike.
This straightforward and uncluttered documentary consists almost entirely of old television footage — of races, interviews, drivers’ meetings, and previously-televised glimpses into Senna’s personal life. The film skips over Senna’s early life and essentially picks up when he arrived in F1 in 1984. A downside of this is that we learn little of his upbringing, save that his well-to-do parents supported his passion for racing (he was in karts at age four). We learn nothing of his training, his own heroes, or his early successes before F1.
The story it does tell is of a single-minded competitor dedicated completely to winning and shockingly talented behind the wheel; a man with little taste for the politics of F1 racing; a teammate who could be challenging to work with; and a devout Christian whose strong connection with God apparently had the convenient result of making him supremely fast around a race track — as well as raising occasional fears among onlookers that his confidence in divine protection perhaps promoted wanton risk-taking. (This was evidenced by Senna’s particularly aggressive driving and frequent contact with other vehicles. He also clashed with one-time teammate Alain Prost, and the two at times vied for the championship title in ways that verged on unsportsmanlike.)
But Senna was a driver first and foremost. This film’s wealth of classic race footage does what it needs to do, leaving us rightly in awe and struggling to understand how Senna could blast around a rain-slicked track, utterly outclassing and readily dispatching a field of the top drivers in the world.
How was he so fast? The film offers no special answer other than to observe that Senna’s skill at car control seemingly verged on a sixth sense, enabling him to push his vehicle well beyond its limits and yet somehow keep it on the pavement. It takes a true master to court disaster at every turn, avoid seemingly certain crashes, and deliver instead incredible speed — lap after lap and race after race. (If you’ve watched Bode Miller ski, you’ve perhaps seen something similar. Bode’s 2009 Birds of Prey downhill run was described by the live announcer as a “series of linked recoveries.” I was there and swore he’d crashed on several occasions, but with some kind of voodoo he always kept his skis under him. Senna’s corners were sometimes similar.)
Ayrton Senna could be ruthless on the circuit — for instance, it’s fairly likely that he crashed himself and Alain Prost out to clinch the 1990 driver’s championship — and the film does its level best to downplay and explain away what in reality was probably just bad behavior. I didn’t much like this. Senna was unquestionably a fierce competitor, and it’s really no surprise that his dedication to victory could sometimes manifest in objectionable or anti-cooperative behavior. But Senna could also display great compassion — an interesting counterweight to his general on-track ferocity — and the film didn’t do much with this. (For instance, Senna once pulled over during qualifying to tend personally to a crashed driver. This powerful vignette was only barely in the film, strangely relegated to an end-credits montage alongside waterskiing videos).
Senna died suddenly at Imola in 1994 after an unexplained mechanical failure on his Williams Renault sent him off Tamburello corner and into a retaining wall at full speed. Little footage of this crash exists, and the film presents what there is; it also shows an extended portion of the in-car recording leading up to the crash. (This clever editing decision reattaches an element of surprise to the near-instantaneous shunt we know is coming.) It was a tragic close to a great career, and it still appears that whatever went wrong, there was nothing Senna could do to prevent this crash. Another driver, Roland Ratzenberger, died on the same track the preceding day; and if such a thing offers any upside, it is that we learn Senna contemplated his mortality in a very concrete way before venturing out to race that day.
I found the film reluctant to criticize its subject at times, and it also plays a bit cheeky with his personal life, showing Senna alternately as an intensely private person, a flirt, and a family man. It also maddeningly eschews such simple basics as whether Senna married, the identities of the children he’s sometimes seen with, and the like. The few modern-day interviews are presented as voice-overs and are, content-wise, generally unremarkable. (All this raises the question of why this film was made now. It’s not an expose, it offers scarce new insights from those close to the man, and it presents no new answers concerning the crash that ended his life.)
But make no mistake: Senna is a splendid ride, owing largely to its legendary subject. It presents his career and a few carefully-picked personal challenges in a neat chronological format, and intersperses enough riveting race footage to mint new believers from race virgins. (One newcomer went so far as to cement her newfound Senna obsession with a hand tattoo.) But die-hard fans, F1 aficionados, and car nuts also will find a lot to like here.
It’s a very limited release. See it if you can.
HAUS VERDICT: It’s a little uneven and lacks new material, but Senna is a lovingly made documentary, an exciting ride, and a fitting tribute to a racing legend.