On Friday, I wanted to see Parasite, the film by the legendary film director Bong Joon-Ho. I talked to my two Boston-adjacent film companions. Neither were available. Unable to convince myself to drive from New Hampshire to Boston by myself to see a critique of capitalism by a director famous for making an action movie about a train, I instead drove to see Ford v. Ferrari at Chunky’s, a NH cinema famous for mixing food with movies. I arrived early and ordered an Impossible Burger, one of the two vegetarian burgers brands famous for how closely they imitate meat. As I masticated, I ruminated that in a perfect world, in five decades there would be similar chronicle of the competition of Beyond Burger v. Impossible Burger. Beyond impossible? Perhaps.
Parmenides argued that perfect, actually existing reality had four attributes, chief among which was motionless. For Ken Miles (Christian Bale), perfection firstly consists of seeing the needle go over seven thousand RPM, secondly, a wife and son who indulge his reckless racing dreams, thirdly, a man who endures amicable pugilism – specifically, a sudden punch to the mouth. But what is the fourth?
Parmenides came to my mind because Ken is painted as a Platonist, albeit one who grasps perfection through gasoline rather than rigorous contemplation of the good. An advantage of speed though is that it easier to share than abstract thought. Peter Miles (Noah Lupe) is a child who at once clear-eyed, seeing his father’s temper tantrums and overhearing his financial failures, but unwaveringly trusting, basically worshipful. Ken is comfortable with worship, and shares his secret mission with Peter prior to leaving for France: he seeks the “perfect lap”. Apparently a Platonic realist, Ken urges Peter to find the perfect lap not in his heart or mind, but in the skyline of a LA night above the test track of his work.
One could imagine the phrase “perfect lap” prompting chuckle or snigger from a character in the Fast and Furious franchise. But because the entirety of this film’s libidinal energy is directed towards the curve of wheels and windshields rather than legs and breasts, when Mollie Miles (Catriona Belfe) berates Ken for keeping a secret from her, there is no real suggestion that she thinks it is another woman. Given that Ken had recently hidden his innumerable troubles with the IRS, this suspicion of secrecy is well warranted. She breathes a sigh of relief when she learns that he has a new job designing and driving a new racing car worth $200 a day.
Ken, in short, is being paid good money for his dream job, which is a combination of engineering and athleticism. The perfect lap is a similar combination: in short, it is the absolute fastest one can drive a loop of a race. The race in question is Le Mans. Despite being British, Ken dutifully leaves unsaid the “n” in Le Mans to honor his French hosts. Perhaps hospitality also explains why he never explains why this race is measured in time and not distance. For it is quickly established that Le Mans lasts 24 hours. However, rather than showing the referees announcing a stop at 24 hours and then tallying who has gone the farthest, the film instead shows the race ending when the winner crosses the finish line.
But perhaps the blame for this confusion lies instead with Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon), the man who is Ken’s friend and enemy, mentor and successor. The movie opens with Shelby racing Le Mans at night. As if to directly head off accusations this implies the movie is promoting reckless driving by theater goers, a doctor soon clarifies that Carroll’s heart cannot take any more racing. His decision to take this advice is what separates Carroll from Ken. For while Ken’s need for speed is irreplaceably insatiable, Carroll can and does train himself to find joy in leading a winning team, rather than being the winner himself. He is less successful at training himself to find joy as a middle-man. Which is too bad, as that in essence is his job, mediating between visionary and artist, Ken, and capitalist John Ford II.
In the Phaedrus, Plato uses an allegory of a charioteer and two horses to describe the human soul. One of the horses is beautiful and good, the other is neither. The charioteer, mediating between the two, creates that all too human result.
What this metaphor doesn’t take into account is that in the ancient Greek world, the real winner of a chariot race, isn’t the charioteer. Racing horses, then as know, were expensive projects. The real winner of a chariot race was the owner of the horses.
The film is called Ford v. Ferrari. For his fourth quality of perfection, Ken could have used some Marxist analysis.
Parmenides argued that perfect, actually existing reality had four attributes, chief among which was motionless. For Ken Miles (Christian Bale), perfection firstly consists of seeing the needle go over seven thousand RPM, secondly, a wife and son who indulge his reckless racing dreams, thirdly, a man who endures amicable pugilism – specifically, a sudden punch to the mouth. But what is the fourth?
Parmenides came to my mind because Ken is painted as a Platonist, albeit one who grasps perfection through gasoline rather than rigorous contemplation of the good. An advantage of speed though is that it easier to share than abstract thought. Peter Miles (Noah Lupe) is a child who at once clear-eyed, seeing his father’s temper tantrums and overhearing his financial failures, but unwaveringly trusting, basically worshipful. Ken is comfortable with worship, and shares his secret mission with Peter prior to leaving for France: he seeks the “perfect lap”. Apparently a Platonic realist, Ken urges Peter to find the perfect lap not in his heart or mind, but in the skyline of a LA night above the test track of his work.
One could imagine the phrase “perfect lap” prompting chuckle or snigger from a character in the Fast and Furious franchise. But because the entirety of this film’s libidinal energy is directed towards the curve of wheels and windshields rather than legs and breasts, when Mollie Miles (Catriona Belfe) berates Ken for keeping a secret from her, there is no real suggestion that she thinks it is another woman. Given that Ken had recently hidden his innumerable troubles with the IRS, this suspicion of secrecy is well warranted. She breathes a sigh of relief when she learns that he has a new job designing and driving a new racing car worth $200 a day.
Ken, in short, is being paid good money for his dream job, which is a combination of engineering and athleticism. The perfect lap is a similar combination: in short, it is the absolute fastest one can drive a loop of a race. The race in question is Le Mans. Despite being British, Ken dutifully leaves unsaid the “n” in Le Mans to honor his French hosts. Perhaps hospitality also explains why he never explains why this race is measured in time and not distance. For it is quickly established that Le Mans lasts 24 hours. However, rather than showing the referees announcing a stop at 24 hours and then tallying who has gone the farthest, the film instead shows the race ending when the winner crosses the finish line.
But perhaps the blame for this confusion lies instead with Carroll Shelby (Matt Damon), the man who is Ken’s friend and enemy, mentor and successor. The movie opens with Shelby racing Le Mans at night. As if to directly head off accusations this implies the movie is promoting reckless driving by theater goers, a doctor soon clarifies that Carroll’s heart cannot take any more racing. His decision to take this advice is what separates Carroll from Ken. For while Ken’s need for speed is irreplaceably insatiable, Carroll can and does train himself to find joy in leading a winning team, rather than being the winner himself. He is less successful at training himself to find joy as a middle-man. Which is too bad, as that in essence is his job, mediating between visionary and artist, Ken, and capitalist John Ford II.
In the Phaedrus, Plato uses an allegory of a charioteer and two horses to describe the human soul. One of the horses is beautiful and good, the other is neither. The charioteer, mediating between the two, creates that all too human result.
What this metaphor doesn’t take into account is that in the ancient Greek world, the real winner of a chariot race, isn’t the charioteer. Racing horses, then as know, were expensive projects. The real winner of a chariot race was the owner of the horses.
The film is called Ford v. Ferrari. For his fourth quality of perfection, Ken could have used some Marxist analysis.