Le Mans is a 24-hour race. We’re still unclear on why it takes us a week to recover. The following might explain a few things.
Monday started with Alice and Lydia picking up Jazz and driving to our chalet in the French countryside. Accreditation collected for the crew. A relatively civilised start.
By Tuesday, Lydia and Jazz were on the grid shooting the big driver photo. Luke, Lara and Frankie arrived, bags were dropped and we claimed our corner of the media centre. Home for the foreseeable.
Thierry’s breakfast spread became a daily fixture. A very good reason to get up, even when we were wearing thin. Wednesday sent Lydia, Luke and Frankie into the Aston Martin garage to film for Goodyear, while Alice and Frankie ended up trackside after dark. Plenty to point a camera at.
Thursday had its moments. Some emotional turmoil, followed by the Libertines. Balance.
Friday was parade day. Pure chaos and easily one of the highlights of the week. Lydia and Jazz headed off on their own photo mission, getting all the good stuff. Luke, Alice and Frankie went after drivers and fans, finding themselves deep in the Alpine mania. Frankie took an Alpine flag to the head. Luke and Alice chased drivers for content. Everyone contributing in their own way. Somehow, we all managed to reunite midway round the parade. A small logistical miracle.
Dinner was McDonald’s in the car, following a surprisingly lengthy dispute over the Maccies order. Once settled, Luke, Alice and Frankie went non-verbal for a solid twenty minutes, eating like it was their first meal ever. A rare moment of peace for the crew.
Then Saturday. Race day, properly hot. Lydia, Jazz and Luke slowly cooked on the grid while Alice and Frankie found a grandstand to watch the start. Even with a full day’s work ahead, that build-up gets you. Then the cars were off, and so were we.
We headed across the track to Camp Langoustine, where the crew welcomed us in, served us an incredible curry and made us feel very much at home. Beers, good people and plenty of stories. We made a mini documentary about the camp and the people who return year after year. After an evening there, we could see why.
Back to work. Shooting, editing, covering ground. A midnight mango sorbet for Alice and Frankie, then back to the chalet around 2am for a short nap. Enough to technically say we’d slept.
Sunday started with Lydia, Alice and Frankie on the fezza whizza. The Ferris wheel, for the uninitiated. By this point, the lack of sleep was becoming a group personality trait. Everyone kept going until the chequered flag, then through the final edits.
Laptops shut. Team dinner and beers in town. A chance to take in the week.
Le Mans asks a lot of you. Somewhere between the night shoots, parade crowds and inevitable arguments, it’s easy to lose track of quite how good it is. Then you look back. Pretty damn cool what we get to call work, alongside some of our best friends.
Monday came and we headed our separate ways. Post-Le Mans blues followed shortly after. Apparently, we’d happily do it all again.
A few moments from the week, caught on 35mm.
Same time next year?
