Le Mans ’66 review – a well-oiled crowd-pleaser

Here’s a film that doesn’t set out to push the boundaries of the biopic genre as much as it offers a highly accessible, well-oiled machine with enough old-fashioned charm to carry it over the finish line. It’s slick and handsomely photographed, with efficient, likeable performances across the board – the sort of “based on a true story” blockbuster that will no doubt wind up nominated for plenty of Oscars, with only a real shot at winning in the technical categories.

Not that any technical awards would be undeserved, mind you. The sound and visuals in Le Mans ’66 are uniformly fantastic: engines roar and purr like beasts being tamed by their drivers. Sunlight frequently glistens into the camera at magic hour in cinematographer Phedon Papamichael’s always strikingly-composed shots. Soon it becomes apparent that director James Mangold, a filmmaker with a penchant for westerns, has delivered yet another thinly-disguised effort in his favourite genre. He’s following in the footsteps of action maestro Tony Scott, whose Tom Cruise-starring Days of Thunder – juxtaposing panoramic framing with extreme close ups – was also a vehicular take on the Sergio Leone western.

Leads Matt Damon and Christian Bale are heroes right out westerns, too. They’re men of honour, the types that Clint Eastwood has been making films about for decades: experts in their fields, terrible at being told what to do. Here they’re enlisted by Henry Ford II (Tracy Letts) after he’s humiliated by Ferrari during a proposed merger deal. Ford’s plan is to get back at his competitor by building a car fast enough to win the annual 24-hour race held in La Mans, France – a test of physical and mental endurance if ever there was one. Carroll Shelby (Damon, in very relaxed mode) will build the car; Ken Miles (Bale, laying on a thick Brummie accent, neck permanently craned) will drive it to victory. It’s a task that will see them bashing heads with everyone from Ford’s endless line of suited executives (Jon Bernthal, Josh Lucas), to Miles’ put-upon wife, Mollie (Irish actor Caitriona Balfe, with a distracting Northern accent and shoehorned involvement), and eventually each other. Their bromance – built on mutual respect and a long-standing rivalry – gives the picture its heart, but the driving scenes are where it really excels: you might not be able to get into these cars, but the action is visceral enough that you always feel like you’re in the passenger seat.

It’s all held together by way of an almost aggressively affable tone, which makes the long journey to La Mans feel like one carried out in the company of old friends. The titular race more than lives up to the expectations set by the preamble, too, giving us the best competitive car racing sequence since the finale of Ron Howard’s Rush. It’s only later, during an unnecessary epilogue, that this 152 minute behemoth begins to feel excessive. The second Mangold takes his foot off the peddle you begin to see how ungainly the whole thing is, and the script – suddenly so clunky and sentimental – tells you what you knew all along but were having too much fun to notice: that this is formulaic fare of the highest order. That’s not to say you’ll have any regrets. In banking on Shelby and Miles, Henry Ford II was sure to come away feeling like he got his money’s worth. Chances are you’ll feel the same way.

★★★★☆

By: Tom Barnard

Get Le Mans ’66 showtimes in London.