Cynics be damned. Against all the odds Formula One, it seems, simply cannot put a foot wrong. With the hope of spectacle, theatre and drama without so much as a wheel turning, F1 was taking an unprecedented leap into the unknown by launching the new season with its F175 show. Binning this bad boy at the first corner was a very real possibility.
Yet pull it off they did, an event where it was impossible not to be swept along in the backdraft of a sport that is hitting its marks to perfection. F175 was to celebrate the 75th anniversary of Formula One’s inaugural grand prix season which had opened with the first round at Silverstone in 1950. It was the first time all 10 teams gathered under one roof to unveil the liveries of their new challengers with the fans able to revel in the extravagant reveal in what used to be the process of pulling a big sheet off a car.
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Each team had seven minutes to do so and was allowed to prepare its own presentation, theatrics, music and video. The chances of a sinking morass of F1 banality were real indeed. As were fears the atmosphere would be subdued, that the makeup of the audience leaning toward the prawn sandwich – or for F1, perhaps the billionaire baguette – brigade. Yet they proved unfounded. A moshpit of the great unwashed stood in front of the giant runway, flanked to the left and right by the VIPs at waited tables, but the arena around them all was packed and it was making a lot of noise.
The world champion, Max Verstappen was booed, as was his Red Bull team principal, Christian Horner, while Lewis Hamilton was cheered, as was the tyre manufacturer Pirelli, so pumped up was this audience. It was the first time, surely, that mechanical grip enjoyed its fist-in-the-air moment.
It was panto and it was brilliant. The waves of noise swept across the arena to great effect, which was doubtless the intent in an inclusive and collective atmosphere. There was an element of rock concert to it and while rolling out the new paint jobs to a spot of dry ice and lasers might have been anticipated, this was far from Basins nightclub in Portsmouth, circa 1985, F1 had delivered with the full grand, encompassing extravaganza.
There was Jack Whitehall, a somewhat ubiquitous host at such events, almost working on an improv level adding a verve to the occasion that might easily have descended into formality. The teams took artistic flight as they bared their liveries and that this would be special was clear from the opening. Sauber launched into their video of almost post-apocalyptic imagery, to doom‑laden live drumming, and a portent-heavy voiceover: “When darkness falls across this land …”
This was the good stuff. After which any short interviews with drivers were irrelevant, they had nailed it as fireworks flared from the ceiling at the close. Yet it was the variety that followed that was gripping. A series of vignettes from each team. Williams were next with the MC entreating the crowd to “go wild” for the team principal, James Vowles, perhaps the oddest call and response ever conceived. RB, in an attempt at irony on their grotesque corporate name, fell flat, yet then came Aston Martin putting in a glorious James Bond homage, Red Bull hosting a stage swamped by fans, Ferrari throwing in a corsa rosso-themed masterpiece to momentous music, with Hamilton cheered to the rafters, and McLaren showcasing their glorious racing history in the form of classic cars.
What had succeeded so well was that the drivers were secondary to the spectacle, this was about a show. How many sports can boast a season opener, with no sport whatsoever? There was the inclusion of music, including a performance by Take That – well three-fifths of the classic lineup, the low-downforce Take That. This made one wonder exactly which demographic F1 was trying to hit, as did pop-rock artist Machine Gun Kelly, once bested by Eminem in a hip-hop drive-by shouting.
Yet that all worked, too. In the crowds swarming from the O2 afterwards, beaming smiles prevailed at F1 once again working what is increasingly looking like a positively magic alchemy, and the season off to a rip-roaring start.
