Netflix’s Formula One soap opera is better than any race
My friend wouldn’t claim to know her DRS from her dashboard. But I wasn’t surprised when she told me this week that she’d been bingeing on Drive to Survive, Netflix’s global hit documentary series built around the fluctuating fortunes of Formula One. In five years, the show has turned a bunch of men driving in circles into compulsive stories of deeply personal rivalries on and off the track, against a background of glittering locations, supermodels in the stands and bottomless, easily spilt wealth.
If Jilly Cooper were writing an F1 bonkbuster, it would have to be called “Cockpit”, and we can all imagine the book’s front cover. And that was before the drama leaked out into real life recently with reports of nefarious goings-on within the team of the reigning world champion.
Red Bull’s CEO Christian Horner has been cleared of any wrongdoing following an internal investigation into his alleged “coercive behaviour” towards a female colleague.
Yet you couldn’t fail to have noticed Mrs Horner, former Spice Girl Geri Halliwell, doing her best impersonation of a Tory MP’s wife standing by her man at the first race of the season in Bahrain.
Formula One chiefs may profess deep disappointment that their sport has been brought into disrepute with such bad publicity, but their money-making business has never enjoyed this much attention.
The antics of F1 stars have long been legendary. Playboy James Hunt famously had a patch saying “Sex: Breakfast of Champions” sewn to his racing suit and made a point of drinking champagne after every race, win or lose. The day he won the World Championship in 1976 in Japan, he got so drunk the British ambassador was reluctant to let him into the reception at the embassy. In 2006, when Kimi Raikkonen’s car broke down on the track in Monaco, cameras followed him as he climbed out and, instead of going back to the paddock, strolled off to join friends on his yacht. Still in helmet and overalls. What’s different about this era is the stardom that Drive to Survive’s success has bestowed on the backroom boys (and occasionally girls) of the sport. Because some of the drivers have been fickle about taking part in the show – Lewis Hamilton eschewed the f irst season, while current world champion Max Verstappen complained that being f ilmed was affecting people’s behaviour – the producers have cannily built a soap opera out of battles in the boardroom and pit-lane punchups. Thus, very ordinary-look
