Following the release of the F1: Drive to Survive series on Netflix came an unexpected love and appreciation for the sport, writes Cape {town} Etc’s Robyn Simpson. Beautifully filmed and produced, adrenaline-packed, cut-throat personality clashes and a handsome man or ten — what more could you want from a series? Another season, please!
While I wait for that fourth season, I thought I’d try to curb some F1 cravings with the newly trending Schumacher documentary, also released on Netflix. It’s currently sitting at ‘Number 2 in SA’ and I have to agree with my fellow South Africans, it is certainly a stinky number two.
Michael Schumacher needs no introduction, being one of the most successful drivers in F1 history. Equally as famous is the racer’s departure from not only F1 but life — or at least my general understanding of it.
Schumacher was on a family skiing trip in the French Alps when he drew luck’s last straw. While crossing an off-piste area in the slopes above the French ski resort of Meribel, the racing legend fell and hit his head on a rock. He was with his son, Mick, who was 14 at the time.
Schumacher immediately underwent two surgeries after which he was put into a medically induced coma, suffering what was described as a “traumatic brain injury.” He crashed on December 29 2013.
The former Ferrari and Mercedes driver was brought out of the coma by June 2014 and was released to go and rehabilitate at his home in Switzerland — where he has remained ever since.
For the most part, I wasn’t expecting to be blown away by the documentary. It was everything I had predicted it to be — a display of an epic man and an epic career. Nothing the world doesn’t know already. Unexpected, however, is the uncomfortable feeling of disturbance that echoed throughout my watching experience.
The entire documentary is a straight-up obituary for a man who is technically not dead. A man who the world has wondered about for almost a decade. A man who has not left his home in Switzerland for years. It’s all just too creepy.
As the film rolled on by, I kept wondering when contributors were going to stop reminiscing and start talking. The suspense in my lounge was tangible. And it remained there until the credits started rolling.
For me, the film did the opposite of its intention.
Rather than celebrating the legacy of all that is Michael Schumacher, all I was left with was an increased curiosity about the athlete’s current condition, mixed with a nauseating ‘human experiment’ feeling (like something out of a horror film).
The fact that his body, existing in an unknown condition, is still alive and remains in the care of his wife, Corinna, is truly disturbing — hence, “obituary for a man who is technically not dead.”
Throughout the film, Schumacher is spoken about in the past tense. Friends and family are seen mourning the man that once was. Gone but not quite.
For me, Schumacher the documentary came prematurely, with protagonist’s heart still beating. As a result, its intentions to celebrate and honour the great F1 legend have been lost in translation, taking on a sour note of disrespect by fuelling curiosity around the mystery of his current condition, which his wife emphasises as a matter extreme privacy. The irony?
After watching the film, I felt no sense of closure. One which I am sure Schumacher fans have been craving for years. Instead, I found myself Googling clues, which led me to the discovery of a man who is now described as a “human vegetable.” This, to me, is the final frame of the documentary, which solidifies its failure at an attempt of honour.
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