Fifty years ago today, Steve McQueen's Le Mans had its premiere. McQueen apparently didn't attend, as the production of the film devolved into chaos quickly, and the actor was forced to hand over creative control over what was conceived as a passion project.
The end result is deeply flawed, with hardly any plot, or even dialogue to speak of. Mainstream audiences ignored it, but in the 50 years since its premiere, Le Mans has become a totem for car enthusiasts. Just watch the racing sequences to see why. The film beautifully captures one of the most iconic, evocative eras in motorsports. McQueen's crew actually shot the 1970 edition of the 24 Hours of Le Mans, where Porsche 917s and Ferrari 512s battled it out and hit speeds once thought to be inconceivable.
It's hard not to look back at this era with rose-tinted goggles, and Le Mans makes it far easier. Make no mistake—these were The Bad Old Days, where death at races like Le Mans was all too common, but it's impossible not to get all romantic about these cars, these drivers, this race. And Le Mans lets you see and hear the machines and the circuit in a way no other racing movie has managed. McQueen wanted this movie to introduce a wider audience to the world he loved; he really ended up just preaching to the choir, but what a sermon it was.
Perhaps Richard Atwood—winner of the 1970 24 Hours of Le Mans, and participant in the filming of Le Mans—summed it up best in an interview he gave toRoad & Track a couple years ago. "[I]n period, it bombed. Didn’t do well, was over budget, cost a fortune. But it ended up… it’s like a documentary. I never realized until the last couple of years."
So on the occasion of its half century, watch Le Mans, or rewatch it if you've already seen it. Then go and watch the 2015 documentary on the making of the film.
A car enthusiast since childhood, Chris Perkins is Road & Track's engineering nerd and Porsche apologist. He joined the staff in 2016 and no one has figured out a way to fire him since. He street-parks a Porsche Boxster in Brooklyn, New York, much to the horror of everyone who sees the car, not least the author himself. He also insists he's not a convertible person, despite owning three.
