1 - Film Review: Not just another F1 film

Yet another F1 film release? Right in the wheel tracks of the blockbuster successes of Senna and Rush, a documentary and a theatrical film respectively? Just like them based on the sport's past? What on earth can it offer over and above these? Well, in the case of 1, rather a lot as it turns out.

Even above and beyond the challenges outlined in the opening paragraph, the film-makers of 1 - a new film about the history of F1 - hardly could have asked for a more daunting set of objectives. Max Mosley told the film's director Paul Crowder at the project's outset that if he could 'capture why he's devoted 40 years of his life to F1 then he'll have succeeded'. In essence, the makers felt that their mission was to capture the essence of this the pinnacle of motor sport. Its glamour, its pace, its danger, and everything else besides. No mean feat.

Despite what it says on the tin though 1 isn't really a history of F1. Not exactly anyway. But nevertheless it can be said to have gone a long way to meeting its haughty mission statement.

Martin Brundle starts
 and ends the story
Credit: greenmashup / CC

The film starts not in the beginning, but on the starting grid of the 1996 Australian Grand Prix. Perhaps not the most obvious choice, but its reasoning soon becomes clear. The animated buzz of the assembled crowd, the rich colours resultant of the full-beam Melbourne sunshine, as well as the mass of team members and assorted hangers on crawling over the assembled cars - all in eager anticipation of the race, and season, start - are familiar. As is the gradual, aching build up of tension, eventually to be released as the cars are unleashed like feral beasts when the red light goes out.

But then...not long after we had a spectacular accident: Martin Brundle got his braking wrong and cartwheeled over several cars, his machine disintegrating as it did so. The car, by now a heap of wreckage, came to rest upside down in a gravel bed, and the seconds of time wherein there is no movement from the cockpit seem to stretch on like hours. All of the harrowing accidents, some fatal, that took place within the previous 24 months suddenly seem scarily redolent. Yet, before you know it Brundle emerges, in his own words 'without a bruise on his body' and then can be seen - accompanied by the roar of the crowd - hot-footing it down the pit lane to find Sid Watkins in order to get the OK to take the restart.

Famous five: F1's most inspired career moves

When Lewis Hamilton announced that he was leaving McLaren to throw his lot in with perennial underachievers Mercedes for 2013, many recoiled almost like a car crash was about to unfold before their eyes.

There indeed seemed many historical precedents of a talented driver committing career suicide, with a bad team selection heralding a downward slide they could never reverse, such as Emerson Fittipaldi joining his brother's Copersucar team from McLaren and Jacques Villeneuve leaving Williams for BAR.

But the early evidence - as McLaren struggles and Mercedes performs ahead of expectations - is that Lewis might, just might, have played a blinder with his audacious move. And as well as bad moves F1 also has a few precedents of inspired team switches, which confounded the doom-laden expectations in place at the time they were made. I list five of the best ones below.

Graham Hill: Lotus to BRM, 1960
Let's start with a slow burner. Leaving Colin Chapman's Lotus team as it stood before its triumphant 1960s decade sounds a little like F1's equivalent of the guy from Decca Records who turned down signing The Beatles. Yet that is what Graham Hill did.

Hill got together with Chapman after a chance meeting, and recruited initially in a factory role Hill managed before long to blag his way into the driver's seat. And in 1958 driver and team together made their F1 debuts. But Chapman's cars were almost always known for being fast yet fragile; in the early days the latter was especially so as the cars would almost never last a race, and indeed the former was not always the case. Two years of meagre results led to frustration, and the clash of an exasperated Hill and a strong-willed Chapman (including Hill questioning Chapman's commitment to the job) was never going to end well.

Graham Hill - on the way to his first championship, in a BRM
Credit: Lothar Spurzem / CC

And thus Hill chose to join BRM for 1960. This raised many-an-eyebrow, as it was a team that had, despite periodic fanfare, persistently flattered to deceive. As Hill himself noted: 'I remember everyone saying "that's a mistake, you're joining a losing team"...it was being thoroughly trounced'. But as luck would have it the outstanding Tony Rudd was already there, and he and Hill well and truly clicked and thus began one of the sport's most iconic and effective driver-engineer partnerships. Results remained fallow for the first couple of years, but by the start of the 1962 year things had fallen into place (and at exactly the right moment as Sir Alfred Owen was threatening to cut off the team's life support). For one thing Rudd was given full executive authority for the team. For another BRM also managed to produce a V8 engine for the 1.5 litre formula that would match those of Ferrari and Coventry Climax.

Looking back: Montjuïc - a street track like out of your dreams

Reality bites in F1. Organisers of both of F1's Spanish races, the Spanish Grand Prix in Montmelo near Barcelona and the European Grand Prix on the Valencia street circuit, have made it known in recent weeks that they'll need less costly deals if the events are to continue. This is not surprising given the state of the world economy, which has hit Spain harder than many. A deal will be done presumably to ensure Spain continues on the F1 calendar - you'd think it would have to given Alonso-mania - though it's hard to see how two Spanish events can prevail, especially in an age where Bernie's keen to reduce the European presence on the calendar and with many countries queuing to get on it.

Spain's history of hosting F1 races is a long one, the first ever Spanish Grand Prix in the formula was in 1951. But the latest threats to the Spanish races continues the rather hit-and-miss and nomadic existence of Spanish F1 venues over the decades.

Six different circuits in Spain have hosted F1 Grands Prix (including Valencia, which has always had the 'European GP' moniker). The first venue used was the attractive Pedralbes track, run through wide open avenues in Barcelona's suburbs. It was used twice in total (the other race there was in 1954), before the Le Mans disaster the next year, and its fallout vis-a-vis circuit safety, did for it. The Spanish Grand Prix then disappeared from the calendar all the way through to 1968, when it resurfaced at the rather torturous, twisty and unpopular Jarama track near Madrid. That venue held the race on and off until 1981, with its final appearance that year giving witness to the classic and lauded win under pressure by Gilles Villeneuve.

The Spanish race then disappeared again for a while, until 1986 when the Jerez circuit in the south of the country became its host. It was an impressive facility, arguably the first of the 'modern' F1 venues that populate the calendar so heavily these days. Similar to Jarama it was known for being tight and twisty, but its main problem was that it never began to pull in a crowd, due in large part to being situated rather remotely, far away from Spain's major population centres. It lost the race eventually in 1991, though made a couple of further appearances in the 1990s as a last minute replacement for drop-outs elsewhere, and it continues to be used as an F1 test venue. Jerez was replaced by the Montmelo track near Barcelona, and it seemed that finally the Spanish round had found a permanent home. This was further cemented later by Spain finally uneartheding a top-level driver of their own in Fernando Alonso. And this was a lot of the reason why Barcelona was joined on the calendar by the Valencia street circuit in 2008. The Valencia track hasn't won any popularity contests though, not helped by the fact that it has been dogged by undiverting races in its short existence.

But there was one Spanish Grand Prix venue in history that was a real hit. It was a street track like out of your dreams. Faster, more varied and more challenging than Monaco, more picturesque as well. That track was Montjuïc.

Looking back: 1968 - Chris Amon's unluckiest year

Chris Amon. Mention of his name to a historically-minded F1 fan invariably brings up the association of 'the best F1 driver never to win a Grand Prix'. His ill-luck was legendary, and was only equalled by his astonishing natural talent and artistry behind the wheel.

Chris Amon in 1973
Credit: Lothar Spurzem / CC

Many argue that Amon didn't help himself in many ways: he was guilty of a number of bad career moves, had a far from disciplined life off the track and his relative lack of selfishness didn't serve him well in the warped world of F1. But it was also the case that time and again Amon would dominate F1 races with considerable elan and flair (summed up by one of the most iconic photographs in the history of the sport, of Amon attacking Oulton Park in his Ferrari 312 in 1968), only to crawl to a halt through no fault of his own. 183 laps, and 851 km, led in 95 F1 starts didn't add up to a single victory. Mario Andretti once commented that had Amon become an undertaker people would have stopped dying!

The tag of 'best F1 driver never to win a Grand Prix' sells Amon short however. This is partly because his talent is such that he should be remembered as being among the best of all time, regardless of the lack of wins. Ferrari designer Mauro Forghieri rated Amon as highly as they come: 'it's a fact that we never gave him a car worthy of him. As far as I'm concerned he was as good as Clark', while Jochen Rindt considered Jackie Stewart and Amon as his only true rivals. But the tag also sells him short because there was one season that the drivers' world championship should have been his. This year was 1968.

Looking back: 1979 - not the march de triomphe for Ligier

OK, I'll admit it. I first had the idea to write something on Ligier's 1979 season sometime after the Brazilian Grand Prix this year, in which Red Bull had refused to 'nominate' one of their drivers for the championship or to impose team orders. It was to be a cautionary tale of a frontline team with two competitive drivers losing out on a championship by allowing them to race each other, to the point that they damaged each other's hopes.

The Red Bulls then inconsiderately won both the drivers' and the constructors' titles. But the story of Ligier in 1979 is sufficiently compelling to be worth recounting nevertheless, and the lack of team orders is but part of it.

To cut a long story short, the Ligiers ran away with the opening two races of 1979, before gradually fading to become also-rans by the season's end with, on the face of it, an unfathomable rate of decline. As is usually the case in F1, the reasons for this decline are not straightforward.

Racing between the lakes - the Interlagos circuit

There are many reasons to dislike the Autódromo José Carlos Pace, or Interlagos as it's better known (literally meaning 'between the lakes'), where the Brazilian Grand Prix takes place this weekend. Its surrounding urban sprawl is claustrophobic and not 'in keeping' with the image that the F1 fraternity likes for itself. Its pit and paddock facilities apparently belong to another age, power failures and timing screens being wiped out are common. Organisation is usually poor. In the year 2000 the qualifying session had to be stopped three times because of advertising hoardings falling onto the track, one even being hit by Jean Alesi's Prost. Then there's the track itself: for most of its existence the bumps have been treacherous and dangerous. Indeed, the Saubers had to withdraw from the 2000 race, due to the bumps accounting for the structures of their rear wings. A succession of resurfacing jobs consistently failed to solve the problem (though the surface laid in 2007 is a big improvement). Walls are close to the track, even on fast sections such as the uphill blast at 'Boxes'. Its pit entrance there has always had an outward resemblance to a death trap. Eddie Jordan in 2001 commented on Interlagos that 'They could do with doing something with the track, in terms of knocking the place down and starting again'.

The Interlagos circuit.
Some of the outline of the old track can be seen.
Credit: Marlon Hammes / CC

Yet, the Interlagos race for many who follow F1 (me included) is one of the most eagerly anticipated of the year. Why is this? Well, unusually for a modern F1 venue it is a proper racing track. Its undulating variety of fast and medium turns provide a genuine driving challenge. Further, each year it seems to prove the adage that if you give drivers a proper racing track they'll give you a proper race. The amount of overtaking in an Interlagos race, mainly under braking into the Senna 'S', seems to outnumber the rest of the season combined. This was notably seen in Button and Hamilton's drives through the field last season.