by Hudson Moura
Directed by Yan Lanouette Turgeon, Villeneuve: The Rise of a Legend takes a very chronological approach to the early life and career of Gilles Villeneuve, played by Rémy Goulet. Rather than trying to reinvent the sports biopic, the film focuses on the formative years of a figure who, particularly in Quebec, has long since acquired the status of a national hero. Its central interest is not the legend already known, but the young man who slowly built himself into one.
The film begins in 1965, when Gilles is still a teenager experimenting with cars, racing with friends, and already showing the combination of daring and mechanical instinct that will define him. His father is established immediately as an essential figure. After Gilles has an accident with a car his father deeply loves, the expected confrontation never really comes. Instead, his father responds with unusual understanding and later gives him an old car to rebuild. This early support becomes fundamental to the film’s portrait of Gilles: his ambition may be personal, but it is sustained from the beginning by the sacrifices of a family with limited means.
By the end of the 1960s, Gilles finds himself between two possible paths. For a brief period, he considers playing trumpete and even thinks about entering the conservatory, but he ultimately abandons that idea for snowmobile racing. From there, competition increasingly takes over his life. The film carefully follows this progression through the early 1970s, showing him not only as a driver but also as someone who prepares and works on his own machines. This practical relationship with mechanics is important because it reinforces the film’s image of Gilles as a self-made racer rather than someone born into privilege.
The financial dimension of his career is also central. Motor racing is an extraordinarily expensive sport, historically dominated by people with access to money, but Gilles has determination rather than wealth. He depends heavily on the support of his father and later on his own willingness to risk almost everything. Even after marrying and having children, the family accepts a precarious existence, including life in mobile homes, while Gilles continues investing in his career. The film presents this without much melodrama: sacrifice becomes almost routine.
Joann, played by Rosalie Bonenfant, is therefore an essential presence. The film repeatedly returns to her face during races—watching Gilles with concern, fear, attention, and sometimes mistrust. These close reactions become one of the most striking visual motifs of the film. Joann is not simply “the wife waiting at home”; she becomes the emotional witness to Gilles’s dangerous pursuit, the person whose gaze reminds us of the cost of his determination.
That determination is also where the film is strongest and most limited. Gilles is portrayed as almost completely focused on racing. Accidents, financial problems, precarious living conditions, and family responsibilities may complicate his path, but they never seriously destabilize his ambition. The film therefore gives us a very clear sense of his tenacity, but comparatively little psychological complexity beyond it. We understand what drives him, but not always what might divide him internally.
This contributes to the film’s very classical, almost academic direction. Lanouette Turgeon is precise rather than adventurous. The storytelling is clear, the production is remarkably polished, and the performances are consistently natural. At moments, the realism is so strong that the film almost resembles a dramatized documentary. Several images are intentionally grainy enough to suggest archival footage, reinforcing the sense that the filmmakers are trying to place the viewer inside a reconstructed historical record.
The music is less successful. Particularly during the races, the score sometimes feels strangely disconnected from the action, arriving with the wrong emotional emphasis or failing to intensify the suspense. The film generally avoids manipulating the audience too aggressively through music, which can be a strength, but the result is that some racing sequences lose emotional impact precisely when they should be at their most intense.
Still, the production itself is extremely accomplished. The cars, races, environments, costumes, and period details give the film a convincing physical reality. The actors are one of its greatest strengths, with Rémy Goulet bringing an impressive naturalness to Gilles and Rosalie Bonenfant giving Joann a strong emotional presence without overplaying her role. The film feels carefully researched and technically controlled throughout.
What Villeneuve: The Rise of a Legend does not attempt is a radical reinterpretation of Gilles Villeneuve. It remains closely tied to his career, his family, and the accumulation of experiences that eventually lead him toward Formula 1. This makes the film somewhat conventional, but also highly effective in its own terms. For viewers who already know Villeneuve as an icon, especially Quebec audiences, the film offers the pleasure of discovering the years before the mythology: the snowmobile races, the financial struggle, the family sacrifices, the mechanical work, and the stubborn ambition that preceded international fame.
The version shown at TIFF as the film’s world premiere and closing gala was still described as a work in progress, which is worth keeping in mind. Even so, the film already appears remarkably finished in production terms.
Villeneuve: The Rise of a Legend is ultimately a well-crafted, precise, and accessible biographical drama. It may not add a radically new psychological interpretation to Gilles Villeneuve, but it succeeds in what it sets out to do: showing how an ordinary young man from a modest family, driven by an extraordinary level of determination, gradually became the figure Quebec would later embrace as a legend.
Rating: 3.8/5