Recent screen portrayals have decisively painted Formula One as the pinnacle of glamour, intensity, and drama (the latter to a particularly varying degree of accuracy). As a result, the top class of single-seater motorsport has faced unprecedented engagement from across the globe, and its dedicated fanbase continues to grow. The sport’s global fanbase has grown by 63 per cent since 2018, at least in part thanks to the success of Formula 1: Drive to Survive, a collaboration between Netflix and F1 higher-ups which has attracted huge viewership.
That said, big-studio media like this can seem a world away. This summer’s F1: The Movie sees a sixty-something Brad Pitt get behind the wheel equipped predominantly with a do-or-die attitude and raw charisma. Although the film does well to show off the sporting elements of F1, this is for the most part overshadowed by its excessive drama — Pitt’s overly-nonchalant Sonny Hayes casually disregards a myriad of the sport’s rules (as well as professional boundaries) on his way to racing glory and a somewhat formulaic romance. For existing fans it’s possible to look beyond the unrealistic bits and enjoy the film’s accomplishments in other areas, but if you’re unfamiliar with the sport, its narrative shortcomings leave you rather disconnected from the realities of F1.
This is where the recent Passenger Princess mini-series slots in nicely. Having recently celebrated ten years of her show Chicken Shop Date, creator Amelia Dimoldenberg now brings her trademark awkward charm to the track as she interviews four F1 drivers — all while they teach her to drive. Filmed in July during the Belgian Grand Prix weekend, Dimoldenberg gets to know the likes of Oscar Piastri and Carlos Sainz. Where F1 drivers are often perceived to be yacht-party-going multi-millionaires, Dimoldenberg’s disarming interview style brings a much-needed balance. Take her episode with Haas driver Ollie Bearman, considered by many as one of the sport’s future stars. A very sibling-like interaction, the interview reveals parts of Bearman’s life – both on and off-track – as he attempts to teach her to parallel park.
This element of personality is what sets the series apart — it presents the drivers at the heart of the sport as a bit more grounded, something which the Hollywood polish of F1: The Movie fails to convey. Even Drive to Survive doesn’t quite hit the mark in that sense; Max Verstappen refused to give interviews for the 3rd and 4th seasons after the show’s narrative supposedly villainised him, and there’s a degree of separation in its documentary style. Passenger Princess removes said separation and harnesses the individuality of each interviewee. After all, Formula 1 is such an individual sport. Sure, drivers make up teams of two, but while you’re competing together for the Constructors’ Championship, you’re also battling your teammate, whether that’s for the drivers’ title or to just keep your spot on the team. For a fanbase often characterised by supporting particular drivers, the show helps viewers get to know who’s behind the wheel. Not to mention, there’s a charm to watching the world’s fastest drivers have their patience tested as they’re taken painstakingly slowly around a track in awkward silence.
This isn’t to say that there’s no place for the other portrayals of the sport, but to say that this series occupies a space in pop culture that F1 hadn’t really tapped into. In fact, their respective strengths are what makes Passenger Princess so refreshing. With the success of Chicken Shop Date and Dimoldenberg’s own media virality, the wider public is more likely to watch the show — where otherwise you might see a dramatized version of the sport, Passenger Princess seems organic. Long may it continue.
Image Credits: “Amelia Dimoldenberg” by LeoCassiopea is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0.