“Komorebi” is a Japanese word for which English has no equivalent. Roughly translating to “scattered sunlight filtering through trees,” the word is a symbol of the distinct appreciation Japanese culture has for nature’s delicate beauty; a meditation on the interplay between light and darkness which creates arresting, transient moments all around us.
The cinematic medium is teeming with scenes like this. Sometimes they’re the big swells of the story; often, they’re fleeting moments that might pass right by if not carefully observed. With each entry in this monthly series, we aim to shed dappled light on a beautiful moment in film we’ve recently experienced – a moment that exemplifies the essence of komorebi.
(DISCLAIMER: From this point forward, I will be spoiling the ending of Grand Prix to fully give context to the sequence. If you haven’t seen the film, I highly recommend it. All three hours of it.)
“Pete, do you ever get tired? Tired of the driving? Lately I sometimes get very tired. You know what I mean? Very tired.”
It’s hard not to gush about Grand Prix, especially after seeing the Monaco Grand Prix intro that Andy lovingly dissects in his piece on the film from last month. There’s a ferocity and passion to the roaring engines, layered images, great voiceovers, and wild shots of cars blazing down a track that gives you an understanding of the visual language this film will burn into your brain by the time the checkered flag is waved. It’s such a unique, striking intro that focuses mainly on the technical aspects to give you a look at how insane it is to be a Formula One racer in 1966. One could even say that it stands on its own well enough that I wouldn’t be surprised if many fans of the film have spent countless times just going to YouTube solely to watch that opening race. I’ll be honest: I was one of those people a couple months ago.
However, as much as I adore how director John Frankenheimer and legendary graphic designer Saul Bass effortlessly hook the viewer in the film’s first twenty minutes, there is a sequence in Frankenheimer’s film that I would argue is as good as that opening without being as flashy. It might even be better. That is the final 20 minutes of Grand Prix—a race filled with roaring engines, split-screen flashbacks, a crazy-close look at a notoriously steep bank, and an impactful conclusion to a narrative the Monaco Grand Prix sequence only scratched the surface of: the Italian Grand Prix.
Right before the race’s start, the film reintroduces each of our racers, one by one, starting with Yves Montand’s Jean-Pierre Sarti (the beloved champion from Ferrari), Antonio Sabato’s Nino Barlini (the frontrunner of the season who could become the next champion), James Garner’s Pete Aron (the American racer who is two points behind Barlini), and Brian Bedford’s Scott Stoddard (tied with Sarti, he was severely injured in the Monaco Grand Prix at the start of the film). Each person is introduced through a blood-type ID bracelet on their wrists, perfectly capturing the grim consequences that could come from this final race of the season. With everyone gearing up and revving their engines at the starting line, the green flag flies, and the cars blast down the straight to finish the season.
The race begins very similarly to Monaco. From the incredible shots of the race cars to the voiceovers pertaining to the drivers’ opinions on the track itself, the race feels almost like business-as-usual for our racers as they begin to go head-to-head—the main difference being that Sarti is trying to recover from starting in last place after a faulty engine at the starting line. However, being Sarti, he makes a swift recovery with each passing lap.
The Italian Grand Prix is the yin to Monaco’s yang. While the opening sequence mainly focuses on the revolutionary wonders with which the film will astound the viewer in its racing sequences, the finale lets the racing cinematography go through its immensely gratifying motions while focusing more on the emotional stakes this race has for our main racers. For Barlini, it’s the fact that this win could bring him a championship early in his career. For Aron, it’s the chance to redeem himself after years of being treated as a lesser racer. For Sarti and Stoddard, it’s to remind everyone why they’re the most popular in the sport.
While there are plenty of professional stakes tied to this race, that’s not what the racers are truly thinking about as they battle for first place. The young and cocky Barlini is having a genuinely vulnerable moment internally: thinking about the last good moment he had with his girlfriend Lisa (Françoise Hardy) before dumping her immediately prior to the race. For Aron, he battles with his nerves over a past conversation with Mr. Yamura (Toshirô Mifune), discussing with him the irony that comes from using the deadly sport as a way to reinvigorate one’s own love for life. For Stoddard, it’s the fact that he’s come so far since his horrible accident at the beginning of the film, thinking about one of the first times he climbed the stairs of his house despite everyone telling him he wasn’t ready for that much physical exertion. However, the most emotional thoughts come from Sarti: a man who has fallen out of love with racing just as he’s admitted to American journalist Louise (Eva Marie Saint) that he’s fallen in love with her.
In classic Grand Prix fashion, all of these beautifully emotional moments are told in split screen: the left side dedicated to the race while the right shows up what’s keeping each racer occupied as they hit the straightaways or even the Monza banking—an infamous stretch in the race that bends the cars so close to ground that the smallest mistake could mean jeopardy. As the professional and emotional stakes are laid out, the story lets the race take hold with only occasional cuts to the crowd, the pits, and even Louise as her love for Sarti clashes with her fear of what will happen to their relationship after the race. With rubber burning and engines screaming, all the racers have left to do is to make it to the finish line.
Until the unthinkable happens. Closing in on the final laps of the race, Sarti works his way from last place to nearing fourth, inching closer and closer with each lap to catch up to Barlini, Aron, and Stoddard. That is until a random exhaust pipe falls off of a leading car, catching under Sarti and forcing him to drive uncontrollably off the Monza banking. The car explodes in a flash of fire as Sarti’s body lays lifeless in the tree below the banking.
Sarti’s death is the biggest shock in the entire film. Of all the racers we follow, he was the one that was the most in tune with the chaotic balance between life and racing; the hard truth that only a madman would look at the possibility of death by race car and risk it all for the thrill, the fame, and another trophy to place on a mantle with the others. He’s the only one that feels like a genuine peer to Aron in the sport; the duo being portrayed as the price of not only succeeding in the sport but cheating death long enough to become old in a young man’s game.
His death sends shockwaves through the crowd and his team, even causing the head of Ferrari’s team to pull their remaining drivers from the race. As news of Sarti’s death hits a confused Barlini, his confusion turns his face somber as a hard truth sinks in immediately: while he may be young and talented, he will never be immortal. It only gets worse when Louise hears about the accident. She arrives on the track just as Sarti’s body is carted away, leaving her to go mad as her cries for Sarti fall on deaf ears. The camera’s shot of her bloodied hands as she tries to battle the media sent shivers down my spine the very first time I saw that scene.
But the race isn’t over.
With Barlini out, Aron and Stoddard are running head-to-head for first; former teammates who have now become the two closest contenders for the championship trophy. As they hit the final stretch, a single tire gives Aron the edge in the race. He’s done it; in a single season, he’s gone from disgrace to champion for the biggest underdog team (Yamura Motors) in the industry. In another movie, the film would fully focus on the underdog tale of Aron rising to the top, drinking champagne out of the trophy as his boss waves to the crowd. It would let the score swell as Aron motions Stoddard to join him on the podium for some cheers and champagne.
This is not a normal sports film, though. This is Grand Prix. As Aron and Stoddard revel in their race, a dark plume of smoke looms over the race as the announcer sadly spoils their win by announcing Sarti’s confirmed death. Aron and Stoddard lock eyes, look over at the smoke, and begin to slowly mourn in silence. Stoddard, in probably his most selfless act of the entire film, nods to Aron, practically giving Aron permission to celebrate his win without feeling guilty.
In the span of twenty movie minutes, Aron becomes the newest champion and loses his closest friend in the sport.
I want to make something perfectly clear: I wasn’t a racing fan before watching this movie. To be honest, Andy and I both initially watched this movie because a close friend of ours wouldn’t stop gushing about how amazing it was, being one of his dad’s (a racing fan’s) favorite films. After watching it though, I realized that Grand Prix is the type of film that’ll ruin all other films in the genre for me going forward. To mirror your film’s technically impressive opening with a gut-wrenching finale is the type of choice that makes you almost wish a three-hour epic was an hour longer. The Italian Grand Prix finale is the kind of timeless filmmaking that deserves to be in this series twice; Hell, I bet we could do a third piece on the film if we wanted to.
There’s an artistry here that comes together so succinctly that it’s unfair to have such a long sequence pack so much emotional weight to a race that goes by like it’s at four times speed. The crazy thing is that the Italian Grand Prix’s incredible finish is only amplified by the film’s final two minutes.
The quote at the beginning of this article is Sarti talking to Aron after the Monaco Grand Prix; the same line that haunts Aron’s mind as the Italian Grand Prix’s finish dissolves into an eerily silent track some time after the race. As Aron walks out onto an empty track, silence is filled out, once again, by the revving of engines. The camera focuses on all of the empty spaces that position each car just before a race. Just as the revving starts to drown out all other sound, the noises of the engines fade into the distance, as if the many invisible cars peeled out into an unknown race. Aron takes a drag of his cigarette and, with the help of a crane shot, walks towards the camera as he passes the starting line.
He’s the Grand Prix champion. All he can do is what he does best: keep going forward. Don’t look back.
Freelance writer out of Indianapolis. Co-host of Odd Trilogies podcast. Whether it's films or television, I'm always down to watch!