Of course I liked it. Like I said, I go to the movies to be entertained.
I think sums it up pretty succinctly.
By Paul Brian
I’m not here to bury Caesar, but to praise him, in a strange application of Marc Antony's speech. I saw “Ford v Ferrari" and thoroughly enjoyed it. As background, I was a pretty close friend of Shelby for roughly 45 years and we’d often find ourselves solving all kinds of problems sitting around my pool sipping lemonade when I lived in Dallas. I can clearly trace the things I’ve done in the automotive world to a magic moment in time when (at Sebring ’66) I first met him and it set the course for great portions of my life from that day forward. I only offer that information because I’ve been reading critiques and reviews from all the self-proclaimed Shelby cognoscenti who are weighing in on the film, often taking issue with errors of buffing historic minutiae. To them, I would say, “Get over yourself already.” The producers of this film made a terrific movie about two giants of our sport and industry when they could have taken the simpler road of choosing yet another remake of some other obscure film—and for that we should be happy. After all, the world needs a fifth remake of ‘A Star is Born,’ right?” These are the same film whiners who similarly gather around a TV each Easter season in silence as they completely buy into Charlton Heston being a dead ringer for Moses in DeMille’s “Ten Commandments,” and Cedric Hardwicke being called “you old crocodile” by his fawning daughter-in-law.
Were there factual errors or Hollywood massaging of facts to make a more entertaining FvF? Hell, yeah. Was I offended? Hell, no. Nor should anyone else be.
That said, we leave the theater in large part feeling badly for Ken Miles, who was without doubt screwed out of his LeMans victory by the Froggies, giving the win to Bruce McLaren. The three-wide finish, btw, was not the making of an unnecessarily Machiavellian-depicted Ford exec Leo Beebe. It was, in fact, the brainstorm idea of the consummate promoter Shelby, who probably wanted to shove it up Enzo’s wazoo even more than The Deuce did.
I would suggest, however, that what happened to Miles was the karma bus making a visit to his pits. In the film, Shel tries to get Miles on board to drive LeMans for him, and says, “You’d win the Triple Crown!” of Daytona, Sebring and LeMans. True, but if you’re going to feel badly for Miles getting schtupped out of the LeMans win, you need to save some sympathy for two other drivers: Dan Gurney and Jerry Grant.
Pique your curiosity why? At Sebring in March ’66, Gurney and Grant simply dominated the field all day in the blue #2 car. With victory nearly in their grasp and the clock just ticking past the 10 p.m. finish, on the very last lap on the back straight, Gurney’s car suffered a broken timing chain. He coasted as far as he could, but still had enough of a lead on Miles/Ruby and the rest of the field that Gurney got OUT OF THE CAR and PUSHED it across the finish line. I’ll never forget being thisclose to him on the track, as photogs and journalists surrounded him, all the while Dan yelling, “Don’t touch the car! Don’t disqualify me!” He made it with room to spare, the checkered flag flew and Sebring had its newest winner. Well, not so fast.
So who won? If you look at the official records, you’ll find the names Ken Miles and Lloyd Ruby, not Gurney/Grant. Why? Because the #2 was DQ’d because the car didn’t finish under its own power, thereby giving the win to Miles and Ruby on a technicality, just like he lost LeMans because McLaren whose car “went eight meters further” on the Sarthe circuit than Miles went. So “the rules” that robbed Miles of his LeMans victory was the lucky kissin’ cousin of another technicality that awarded him the win in Florida.
Racing isn’t all skill. It’s not all engineering. It’s not all driver, and it’s not all any one thing. And certainly whatever “it” is, it’s never achieved without a liberal slathering of luck. And as is often said: ”Some days you eat the bear. Other days the bear eats you.”
Good on the producers and actors et al who brought us a terrific, if somewhat imperfect, racing film. Get a ticket. Buy some outrageously expensive popcorn. Sit back. Enjoy. Get lost for a bit over two hours in a time when racing was simply enjoyable and celebrate two great characters and friends whose story and relationship was compelling enough to warrant using it in a big-budget Hollywood production.
Every life needs the seasoning of true characters in it to give moments of quiet smiles and thanks for knowing those characters. Shelby was one of them for me. And if he were still alive, I’d once again and gleefully get his borrowed heart pumpin’ up to redline by telling him I’d forgotten more about chili than he ever knew. I miss him. The film made me miss him more.