Gabriel Leone as Ayrton Senna.
WORDS BY Kent M. Wilhelm
NOVEMBER 29, 2024
Ayrton Senna da Silva became an icon back when the word iconic still meant something. He raced with a talent he credited to the divine, a claim any atheist would find difficult to dispute. He brought pride to a country that marked his death with a state funeral and three days of mourning. Ultimately, he changed Formula 1 in more ways than probably any other driver in history.
The story of the Brazilian driver has all the trappings of an irresistible narrative: a good-looking and charismatic underdog with undeniable talent speeds past the competition to become an international sensation when his life is tragically cut short. It was brought to the screen in Asif Kapadia’s outstanding documentary (coincidentally of the same name)—which won critical acclaim and two BAFTAs. But 2010 was before the epochal release of Netflix’s Drive to Survive, which minted a new class of Formula 1 fans many of whom may be unfamiliar with the sport’s rich history. With Senna, Netflix provides an accessible capsule of Formula 1 at the turn of the 1990s and introduces the “DTS” generation to the Brazilian treasure with a sentimental docu-drama.
Last year, I interviewed Gabriel Leone, who takes on the unenviable task of portraying one of his country’s great heroes. Leone was born a year after Ayrton’s death and never followed Formula 1. He said the sport had lost a great deal of popularity in Brazil after Ayrton passed. The struggling nation was too heartbroken following the death of their brightest star. But he grew up listening to stories of Ayrton. “I wasn't there watching him race but he's one of my idols because I'm Brazilian. This is something about us,” said Leone.
Ultimately, [Senna] changed Formula 1 in more ways than probably any other driver in history.
Thirty years on from his untimely death, Senna is a glossy tribute to the three-time Formula 1 World Champion. Released on the milestone anniversary of his passing, it is very much an elegy to one of the great heroes of sport, and of Brazil. Like most commemorations, only the best of the subject is evoked. It is a loving but incomplete portrait, painted with broad strokes that demonstrate a supreme deference for the man, which sacrifices a more complex portrayal. But perhaps legends aren’t meant to be complicated.
In the half-dozen episodes, we see Ayrton chase an immortality that seems almost inevitable. He conquers one challenge after the next with aplomb: his first Formula 1 Grand Prix victory is followed by a slew of first place finishes and three world titles. There’s a repetitiveness to these victories—all depicted in a similar fashion with the show’s theme tune twinkling beneath—that lessens the weight of their significance. Though Ayrton, and many other dominant drivers, can make winning look easy, a dramatization shouldn’t.
The challenges to Ayrton’s supremacy mostly come from a rotating cast of opponents that range from driver rivalries to political feuds—Martin Brundle in F3 (though really, his engine), the president of Formula 1’s governing body Jean-Marie Balestre (Arnaud Viard), and the Frenchman Alain Prost (Matt Mella). Prost was the top driver when Ayrton entered Formula 1, taking the place of drivers like Nikki Lauda. The two became a dream driver pairing at McLaren under the stewardship of Ron Dennis (Patrick Kennedy). The dream quickly faded and the methodical Prost became the instinctual Ayrton’s archrival. Though they battled, bickered, and repeatedly crashed into each other, the two eventually got past their differences. At one point in the final episode, the former rivals sit in the empty stands, chatting like old pals—a reconciliation included perhaps because of Prost’s distaste for his villainous portrayal in Kapadia’s documentary.
The on-track battles provide a unique thrill with sharply edited sequences. Archival footage is stitched together with original shots and sweetened with CGI effects, offering an almost dreamlike experience. Unlike the many projects that overutilize CGI to the detriment of their quality, its use in Senna creates a satisfying effect. The unreality adds an impressionistic quality to the scenes that compliments the series’ heightened tone—more what it feels like than what it really looks like.
There’s a soft glow blanketing Senna that makes it feel like a memory. With any memory, there’s a subjectivity to the point-of-view, but there’s also a dedicated attempt to recreate the indelible images that define a life. Ayrton’s first victory in his home country is thrillingly presented. Already a two-time World Champion, when he finally took the checkered flag at Interlagos in 1991, he did so with a broken gearbox that forced him to hobble the final laps using only sixth gear. The physical toll was so great he winced from muscle spasms as he was lifted out of his McLaren. The incredible performance under punishing conditions brings to mind Michael Jordan’s infamous “flu game”. Watching Leone struggle to lift the first place trophy before finally mustering every bit of strength to push it above his head is a fitting encapsulation of the determination that set Ayrton apart from his peers.
Not all of Ayrton’s exploits made the cut: neither his first to fifth “lap of the gods,” and, notably, his pole-position qualifying lap at the 1988 Monaco Grand Prix are depicted. The Monaco run is often referred to as the greatest qualifying lap in history but no cameras were focused on his effort leaving it lost to the past. To not film it here is a missed opportunity to show us something we’ve never seen.
Also absent is his rivalry with Nigel Mansel, a driver who once grabbed him by the throat in the paddock after an on-track incident. Years later, in better spirits, the British driver took Ayrton as a passenger on top of his Williams after he ran out of gas. We can attribute the omission to the economy of storytelling required to stuff his illustrious career into six episodes, or the rose-tinted lens that filters out the edge that Ayrton possessed. It made him a fierce competitor but also imbued him with a shrewdness that could be difficult to handle.
Ayrton’s business savvy is another aspect of his persona that receives a heavily curated depiction. He talks his way into his seat in Formula Ford and later visits a karaoke bar with McLaren boss Ron Dennis to court Honda as an engine sponsor. It’s unsurprising that an instance where Ayrton almost skipped the Portuguese Grand Prix because he didn’t receive his $1 million per race payment on the Wednesday before the race. (Only when he received a fax confirming the money was in his account did he leave his house in Sao Pãolo.)
There was certainly a purity to Ayrton. Not just in his racecraft but more of a holistic philosophy. Values, scruples, fairness were qualities he held in high regard, which became a source of great anguish when they came into conflict with the less principled aspects of politics at the racetrack. Early on, an arbitrary rule change robs him of a karting title; to which his father (Marco Ricca) urges him to “do your part on the race track.” The same dubious officiating tormented Ayrton throughout his time in Formula 1. His miraculous performance at the 1984 Monaco Grand Prix—finding his way from 13th to 2nd in a Tolemon that had no right competing for the podium—would likely have resulted in a first place finish were it not for Prost’s pleas to stop the race because of the heavy rain which were obliged by his fellow countryman Balestre. The egotistical head of the FIA and his dogmatic creed of “the best decision is my decision” make for a worthy antagonist and is the closest thing to a villain the series offers.
Leone finds that purity in Ayrton’s gentle demeanor. Soft spoken, even when agitated, with a face unable to betray its inherent innocence, were all part of his charisma. A judgment against Ayrton, which gave the 1989 World Championship to Prost, was brought up in a driver’s meeting the next year by Nelson Piquet. A vote to change the regulation was called by Balestre with an overwhelming decision which would have given Ayrton the championship. Leone’s performance channels Ayrton’s memorable disappointment with a blend of frustration and resignation as he puts his hands up and exits the room; his voice never approaching a shout. Along with his role as Fon de Portago last year in Michael Mann’s Ferrari, Leone is on a run playing high profile motorsport drivers who meet their demise in an on-track catastrophe.
Matt Mella as Alain Prost (Left) with Leone (Right).
Leone (Left) with Gabriel Louchard as Galvão Bueno (Right).
On any given day in Formula 1, drivers constantly search for the limits of their performance. Their goal is to find that boundary and relentlessly push as close to it as possible—how late can they brake, how fast can they take a curve while retaining control of their machine? Leone sees a similar line within Ayrton; a gauge of his preternatural competitiveness. “It can be a good thing,” said Leone, attributing that determination to his ability to improve his mastery behind the wheel. But his obsession with winning could push him past that line into a red zone—“something that could make him suffer,” as Leone described it.
The archival footage of Ayrton’s crash is used but the impact is cropped out of the frame. We don’t see his car hurdle into the barrier, as if to comment that the moment is too painful to re-examine. Instead, the shot cuts to a young Brazilian boy’s dreadful reaction, which suggests the loss of innocence experienced that fateful day.
Something interesting happens when a person’s life becomes legend. Their story gets distilled down to the great triumphs which propagate from person to person, generation to generation. What gets removed is the humanity of the figure. Ironically, the complicated and messy aspects of their life are what most of us can relate to. But maybe that’s not what legends are for. Maybe that abstract of the best of them exists to inspire the best in us, to show us what’s possible.
Produced by Brazilian production company Gullane, the folkloric tone is an understandable conceit. Leone feels the emotional core of Ayrton’s story is something universal, something that transcends the Brazilian border. “It’s human beings extending their limits and doing unnatural things,” said Leone.
When you click the tile that reads Senna on the Netflix home screen, you’ll get something similar to Leone’s experience learning about the driver that his family called ‘Beco’. The story of a man who became a hero, told with affection by those to whom he meant the most.
As an object of mourning, its purpose is made clear: legends never die.
