Marinoni Review

Tony Girardin’s debut film Marinoni, serves as tribute to the eponymous artisan and athlete Giuseppe Marinoni and the sport of cycling. With an array of supporting interviews with cycling enthusiasts, professionals, and athletes, the great Canadian cycling champion Jocelyn Lovell among them, Giradrin traces Marinoni’s legacy from champion cyclist to revered maker of the bikes that bare his name. These two tributes are brought centre stage with Marinoni’s attempt to set a world record, riding the very same bike fashioned decades earlier for Lovell by Marinoni himself.  A singular bike for a singular purpose. At 75, Marinoni is shown to have a full, active life-style; he spends his days building bicycle frames, training for his record-breaking race, feeding his chickens, gardening and spending time with his wife, who runs the business end of the company. Though seemingly frail, hunched over in his shop, inhaling toxic fumes, the unassuming senior citizen proves shows himself to be fast as slicked-lightening on two-wheels.

Stylistically, the film is akin to a home movie, with Girardin, who operates the camera, immersing himself in the action, the very opposite of the objective, fly-on-the-wall documentarian approach. He banters with Marinoni, prodding him with questions, and jokes, trying to illicit a response, to bring the otherwise private, often cantankerous man out of his shell. At times Marinoni seems irritated at the repeated questioning by the director, in particular while working in his shop, or training for the big race. While this strategy seems ill advised, we see Marinoni gradually acclimate himself to Giradin’s perennial, hovering camera. When hunting for mushrooms or reminiscing about the good old days, Marinoni appears to genuinely enjoy the other man’s company, with the two developing a kind of grandfather-grandson relationship (not an atypical response to being around Marinoni we are told by one interviewee, who enjoys a similar relationship). On a few occasions, an anxious Marinoni reprimands the director for his continued intrusions, asking him to shoot discreetly or not at all but Girardin does nothing of the sort and Marinoni quickly forgets the transgression. How much of this grumpy old man persona is genuine, is anybody’s guess but there can be no doubt it is part of Marinoni’s charm and allure. It is perhaps for this reason, that the director does not step back but feels drawn ever closer to his subject.

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The film is clearly a labour of love on Girardin’s part. It is full of admiration for Marinoni but this, unfortunately, comes at the expense of any sustained dramatic tension. There is little effort to offer anything but praise and reverence and the undulating praise eventually turns tedious. It is, in the end, a two-dimensional portrait that runs a little long. There does not seem to be a central focus, a thematic underpinning guiding the story, other than the classic countdown device, which in this case is the attempt to break a world record. But it never really achieves the dramatic effect needed and it is long in coming. A little too long. Drawn-out, even. Which begs the question: would this have worked better as a short subject? A thirty minute or TV hour film? 

While this is the result of a lack of footage or skill by the first-time filmmaker is unknown. There is a clear and sustained effort to drive home the importance of Marinoni’s attempt at the world record, and the symbolic importance of the bike he is riding but it never crystallizes in a significant way. Marinoni is a well-intentioned, feel good documentary that offers a clear outline of its subject but it is not a significant attempt to shed light on the history of the sport of cycling or Marinoni.

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