ZUZU F.C.

Zinédine Zidane was instrumental in the creation of the Adidas Predator myth. A mythical figure himself, what he did on the pitch echoed through time and made me realize the Predator he had on weren’t the boots. It was the one inside him.

From scoring twice in a World Cup final to hitting a jaw-dropping volley in a UCL final, the Frenchman delivered nothing less than gold on the green carpet. However, the scene of him assaulting Italy’s Materazzi during the 2006 World Cup Final was his (arguably) defying moment. His Janet-Jackson-nip-slip-Super-Bowl viral moment, some might say. Ironically, a headbutt made him a worldwide phenomenon more than his goals, championships, or accolades. The world watched it “on repeat,” fascinated and puzzled by how volatile and flawed a genius could be. How human of him to do that. 

It’s an accidental yet compelling selling point for the experimental film Zidane, a 21st Century Portrait—the 2005 film came to mind when Adidas Predator took over the conversation early this year. 

A biographic piece of a footballer’s career can easily fall into the self-congratulating clichê of placing a human being on a pedestal. Instead, this creative marvel challenges today’s viewer to step onto the Santiago Bernabeu with Real Madrid’s number five and nothing else.

The film, conceived by video artists Douglas Gordon and Philippe Pareno, is an endeavor with no defined plot. Better yet, the plot is Zidane. They set out 17 cameras around the stadium to follow Zizu during the La Liga clash between Madrid and Villareal. What happens next is a sensorial experience if the viewer lets go of oneself to be taken by it, as if you’d encountered a rare tiger in the wild. You wouldn’t ask why the tiger prances; you just gaze at it.

The relentless and deafening sounds of the Bernabeu heightened your senses as the modern-day gladiators walked onto today’s Coliseum. From intimate and claustrophobic close-ups to grandiose wide shots that intercut with a hyper-passionate sports broadcast, every second builds a trance-induced trip. The emotions are dictated with mastery by a score written and performed by post-rock giants Mogwai. 

Front and center, a footballer who elevated his play into an art form, having his image being treated likewise. The presence of an entity with a stoic eyes on a football pitch, a marble statue dripping sweat down his chin. His thoughts during the match appear as subtitles and offer a raw and random testimonial of his mindset.

These are the creative elements that Gordon and Pareno deploy to hypnotize the audience. So, really, there’s no story? Well, it’s a football match. By cosmic coincidence or straight dumb luck, it unfolds with a plot twist kept secret even from the shooting crew, and I won’t spoil it. 

In times of Tik Toks and attention spans twitching people on their seats if they see no hook in a couple seconds, this pre-social-media era film reimagines the idea of a portrait (and a soccer match itself) by shooting twenty-four portraits of one footballer per second during 90 minutes. Put them together, and you witness the Man, the Myth, and the Predator.