Schumacher (2021)

The Man Behind the Legend

Directed by Hans-Bruno Kammertöns; starring Michael Schumacher, et al…

After a fifty-year drought we’ve reached a golden age of motor racing film and television. There have been major features that weren’t awful — Rush (2013) and Ford v Ferrari (2019) — and a documentary that wasn’t dull — Senna (2010). Netflix’s riveting fly-on-the-wall racing reality show, Formula 1: Drive to Survive, is currently filming its fourth season. And Netflix also just released its own documentary on a racing legend: Schumacher.

Early Life and Career

Michael Schumacher was a prodigy from the start, racing internationally (and winning) in Karts from the age of twelve, before moving on to sports cars and lower formulae cars. In 1991 he landed in the rarified world of Formula 1 like a bombshell. At his first race, on the daunting Spa Francorchamps circuit, he put his underfunded Jordan 7th on the grid — faster than his more experienced teammate, and far closer to the front than that car had any right to be. A great rivalry was predicted between the new ace and Ayrton Senna, who had dominated the sport since the mid ’80’s. Alas, it was not to be. Senna was killed at Imola in early 1994, just as Schumacher and his Benetton team were becoming serious title rivals. Schumacher went on to win the championship that year, and it was the start of a remarkable decade in which he reigned almost alone at the top of the sport.

Full disclosure: back in the day I usually cheered for Senna and Schumacher’s rivals. Despite being blessed with more than enough talent to succeed honourably, both these legends brought a win at all costs mentality to the track that too often showed itself in overly aggressive, even dirty, driving. They coarsened the sport and set a bad example for younger drivers such that F1 is still struggling to re-establish standards for clean, hard racing that prevent the blocking and bullying “back off or we’ll crash” manoeuvres normalized by Senna and Schumacher.

The Senna documentary framed his uncompromising will to win as a shining example of the human drive for excellence. And I can understand why the Brazilian was revered by legions of fans despite his on-track ruthlessness. Handsome, mystical, and touched with an unearthly talent, he oozed charisma. But the jut-jawed, dour, and Germanic Michael Schumacher, whose inner life remained largely hidden? I could never understand why so many adored him. Surely their rabid enthusiasm was a kind of crude power worship, a fawning abasement at the altar of fame and success, regardless of how it was achieved?

It’s interesting, then, that this first full-length recounting of Schumacher’s life focusses more on the man behind the motor racing legend than his on-track career. Family support for the project gave German filmmaker Hans-Bruno Kammertöns access to previously unseen home movie footage and opened the door to extensive, remarkably candid interviews with most of Schumacher’s family, friends, and teammates. The result is a remarkably intimate portrait of the private Schumacher — a man previously unseen except by his inner circle.

The film’s opening section briefly recounts his childhood before the surprises start with the young Schumacher’s kart racing adventures with his dad. He’s a fresh-faced, working-class boy exuberantly enjoying his racing — a broad, infectious smile never far from his face. When he reaches F1, the early successes are followed by his signature move: an exuberant leap for joy high above the winner’s podium. The private footage of Schumacher partying and singing karaoke with his mechanics and rival drivers after a race, looking with open adoration at his wife, Corinne, or playing with his young children, show that even after becoming a star he enthusiastically embraced life as a family man. Close associates always claimed that the real Schumacher was a fun-loving, affectionate homebody, quite different from his closed off and ruthless persona. Here, for the first time, the rest of us can see what they were talking about.

Was it a certain introverted shyness, or the pressures of stardom that caused Schumacher to keep his inner life so hidden? Regardless, this look at Michael Schumacher’s private world is the best aspect of the documentary and will be a revelation, even to his fans. For me, I’d forgotten what a breath of fresh air Schumacher was when he first reached F1. Those were the years of the bitter Senna-Prost rivalry when races would end, not with the happy winner jumping off the podium, but with the two antagonists glaring daggers at each other.

A Paradox

Unsurprisingly, this family endorsed project is not nearly so candid when it comes to the other side of Schumacher’s character: the ruthless, win at all costs competitor we saw on track. Schumacher’s willingness, while still F1’s new boy, to break his contract with Jordan after a single race, and join the better funded Benetton team, isn’t mentioned. Nor do we hear about the infamous 2006 Monaco GP, when Schumacher deliberately spun during qualifying to block the track and thus protect his provisional pole position.

Other incidents, too famous or significant to leave out, are covered, but as sympathetically as possible. The treatment of 1994’s title deciding race is typical: Schumacher ran off the road while in the lead and, rather than parking against the barriers, steered his wrecked but moving car back on track in front of rival Damon Hill. Schumacher associates explain away the ensuing crash as a racing incident, his only fault, in their telling, being competitive instincts so strong he always kept going, even in hopeless situations. Not quoted are other, less sympathetic observers, who saw the move as a deliberate attempt to take out a rival. (Successfully in this case; with both cars out of the race, Schumacher kept his lead in the points and won his first F1 championship.)

It’s harder to justify Imola, 1997, when Schumacher again hit a title rival, in this case deliberately driving into Jacques Villeneuve rather than let him pass. Schumacher only crashed himself out, though, and Villeneuve went on to take the 1997 championship (still Canada’s only F1 title). The documentary again uses friendly witnesses to put the collision in the best possible light — but even these can reveal more than you expect. Ross Brawn was engineering Schumacher that day and recalls that he returned to the pits fuming with rage and utterly convinced that Villeneuve was the one in the wrong! Brawn knew Schumacher well and testifies that this belief was quite sincere. Only after much arguing, and repeated views of the replay (which is unambiguous), did Schumacher finally acknowledge reality and admit he was in the wrong. (An offence so egregious the governing body stripped him of his 1997 points.)

Equally revealing is the interview in which a friend recalls asking Schumacher whether he had ever been wrong in his whole life. Apparently, Schumacher thought about it for a moment, and then quite seriously answered, “no”!

What combination of early success, public acclaim, competitive pressure, and the affirmation of rabid fans can make a seemingly normal person so utterly blind to their own behaviour? Schumacher is far from the only sporting legend to behave like this. Top level sports have become so competitive it really does seem that successful athletes need to maintain a level of self-belief almost indistinguishable from self-delusion (even insanity). This is a topic well worth exploring, but the film is content to leave it with the rationale that, in his own mind at least, Schumacher never believed he was acting badly (a conviction so strong even multiple penalties never dented it).

Having thus whitewashed Schumacher’s culpability for the 1994 and 1997 incidents, the documentary chooses to make a big fuss about David Coulthard’s behaviour at the rain-soaked 1998 Spa Francorchamps race. In the opening laps Coulthard knew his damaged car was about to be passed by the much faster Schumacher and eased off at the entry to Pouhon corner to let him by. Not expecting this, and blinded by the rain, Schumacher ploughed into the back of Coulthard in a vicious, high-speed accident. His reality distortion field kicked in and Schumacher returned to the pits in a raging fury. Tearing off his helmet he went looking for Coulthard, shrieking that the McLaren driver had tried to kill him. Although Coulthard later admitted he shouldn’t have lifted while on the racing line, this was an honest racing incident where both drivers misjudged what the other was doing. That’s quite different from the many times Schumacher deliberately blocked, drove into, or intimidated other drivers on track. But, since this is one racing incident where the balance of blame is on the other driver, the film strenuously re-litigates it in a brazen attempt to establish a false equivalency to Schumacher’s more sinister moves. Coulthard’s crash even features in the teaser trailer. This goes beyond whitewashing; it’s is outright disinformation.

Moving to Ferrari

At the end of 1995, after two winning world championships with Benetton, Schumacher abruptly moved to the legendary but underperforming Ferrari team. This is framed as a desire to find “fresh challenges” (with no mention of the wedge of cash that accompanied them). And there certainly were challenges aplenty at Ferrari; it was the beginning of four wilderness years during which his driving abilities and strength of character were tested as never before.

The Schumacher the film wants us to focus on is the inspiring leader who dragged Ferrari out of the doldrums and turned them into a championship winning team again. This section makes up the bulk of its run time.

Ferrari had spent years in the doldrums when Schumacher arrived, brought low by its own poisonous politics and outdated technical standards. While the team rebuilt itself around him, it took all of his prodigious talent — driving the wheels off sub-standard cars — and all his determination as a leader to hold the team together through years of toil, disappointment, and near misses. This period is shown through magnificent race footage and (again) extensive private film of the behind-the-scenes action. We see Michael endlessly testing with the team, staying late into the night with his mechanics as they repair yet another broken car. Here is Schumacher at his best; a driving prodigy with a fierce will to win, it would have been understandable had his struggles with Ferrari’s uncompetitive cars turned him into a prima donna. Instead, he became the opposite; a loyal team player whose total commitment kept him working harder and staying later than anyone else. An inspiring leader, Schumacher genuinely deserves credit for Ferrari’s eventual return to the winner’s circle.

But not all the credit, and this is where the documentary again leaves out so much it amounts to disinformation. Luca di Montezemolo, head of Ferrari, had recruited an ace Team Manager in Jean Todt even before Schumacher arrived. With his star driver on board, Todt was able to lure Technical Director Ross Brawn and Chief Designer Rory Byne over from Benetton. Together, this may have been the greatest collection of talent ever assembled in a single team. Equally remarkable, di Montezemolo successfully shielded Todt and his crew from Ferrari’s corporate politics, defending them when success didn’t come immediately, and providing the time and funding they needed to build proper foundations for success.

More than any other sport, motor racing is a combination of athlete and equipment; both driver and car must be excellent to win. With Todt providing the organizational skills and racing strategy, and Brawn and Byrne delivering a series of every more competitive cars, they eventually delivered the equipment Schumacher needed. Yet Schumacher, the film, doesn’t mention their contribution at all, even though di Montezemolo, Todt, and Brawn feature heavily in its interviews.

A real shame because they were equal partners in an amazing accomplishment. When the championships came, they came in flood: five in a row from 2000 to 2004. Such dominance for so long by a single driver was unprecedented; Schumacher smashed almost every record: most championships, most wins, most fastest laps… Not that you would know from watching this film. After focussing so much on the character-building years, it pushes the Ferrari championships into its brief final chapter; all we get are impressions of Schumacher crossing various finishing lines and jumping off podiums, accompanied by a few period sound bites randomly commenting on how great he was. His life since is treated equally hastily.

Weighing Up

And this is where Schumacher’s storytelling method goes from merely annoying to infuriating. If you want to be one of the cool kids in the documentary world these days, you have to “show not tell” to a ridiculous degree. Any use of an omniscient narrator or bridging commentary to actually tell your audience what’s going on would brand you a fuddy-duddy. So, throughout its run, Schumacher relies almost exclusively on period commentary and clips from its contemporary interviews to stitch the story together. When there’s enough time and material, this works reasonably well. But, when so much ground has to be covered so quickly, as in its closing chapter, we’re left with elliptical references to events about which we’re told frustratingly little.

Thus, the highlights of Schumacher’s later life are alluded to without any attempt to answer the questions they raise:

• Why did Schumacher retire from Ferrari so abruptly after his five world championships — obviously before he was ready? (Rumblings at the time hinted of discontent with Ferrari being too obvious about lining up a successor to their aging star);
• Although Schumacher obviously enjoyed having more time for his family during retirement, why didn’t he find some new pursuit or profession beyond just channelling his prodigious energy into daredevil sports?; and
• Why was he not more successful during his short-lived return to the sport with Mercedes? (The film says nothing about the former legend tooling around in mid-field, the only possible allusion a seemingly random comment from David Coulthard: “I could tell I was missing moves at thirty-seven I wouldn’t have missed when I was younger”).

Schumacher’s horrific 2013 skiing accident is treated with similar indirectness. He has not been seen in public since and little is known beyond the fact he suffered a brain injury. The family has refused to discuss his medical condition and the only thing Corrine will say is: “Michael is here. Different but here. He still shows me how strong he is every day.” For now, that remains the final word.

Ultimately, the good parts of Schumacher are good enough that this film can’t be ignored or written off as a mere hack job. The period racing footage is fantastic, the behind-the-scenes coverage is revelatory, and an amazing assortment of Schumacher’s family, friends, and close associates have agreed to speak on the record, some for the first time. However, the omissions and whitewashing of other aspects of Schumacher’s character are such that the documentary should come with a warning label. And the elliptical method of storytelling means that, if you want more than impressionistic vignettes of his life and career, you’ll need to watch with Wikipedia open beside you.

For me, it’s disappointing that the film never quite grapples with the immense contradiction between the private Schumacher and the racing legend. But, if the man himself remains a mystery, I finally understand why his fans adored him so.

WOBBLY THUMB