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In the Heat of the Night
Last year, the infamously staid and socially conservative city-state of Singapore gave itself to Formula One racing. Creative Director Tom Brown and Photographer Fredrik Brodén traveled there to witness the cataclysm.
By Tom Brown
Photos by Fredrik Brodén
The pleasantly warm night air masked what I knew was out there. It was a slow build of a dull, vibrating hum. Only a few days out, and it was already tangible. I’d never been to Singapore, and neither had F1 racing. But you could feel its specter rolling closer. The people here had no clue what they were about to witness.
The view from the elegant Fullerton Hotel as cars race toward the Esplanade, or the Durians, as it’s known locally
Immaculately clean, modern, and efficient, Singapore threw its considerable resources into preparations for the world’s most glamorous motor-racing event. One hundred million people around the globe would watch the results. Singapore’s Marina Bay Circuit was a virgin street course: Racing tires had never tarred its roadways and 780-horsepower engines had never rattled its windows. Incredibly, it was decided to hold the race at night, lit by wonders of technology that seemed to carve the 3.15-mile course out of the darkness.
For that reason alone, daytime in Singapore felt meaningless. Oppressed by the late-September 90-degree heat and humidity, I rarely stirred from the pool deck of the Fullerton Hotel where I was staying, content with watching from a distance as workers secured the final curbs and positioned concrete abutments while around them orange-jumpered race officials endlessly ran through safety checks.
The heavy night air had a muffling effect. The city was pin-drop silent. Intermittent cracklings from a race marshal’s two-way radio were all I could make out. Then, at last, I could hear it echoing. “Here they come!” It was distant, but building. The cars sounded like a swarm, gathering momentum. Rumbling forward. Their sound bounced ahead of them. Trackside figures froze in place, completely focused on the approaching fits and shrieks.
Suddenly, there was a flash between concrete columns. All sounds heightened to something shrill and horrifying. With a clap they pounced into view, scraping the air, gasping and belching, viciously hunting and darting at ungodly speeds. They were streaks of color, light, and shadow, and as quickly as they appeared, they were gone, pops of tailpipe flaming against the black night. All that remained was their gas stink cooking in my nostrils. The night was full of these angry, bejeweled beasts. There was no time to contemplate. They’d soon be back.
Sixty-one laps and a little under two hours later, the city was still alight, but the rage and impossible roar of the engines disappeared. The intruders had been silenced, and slowly night gave way to day.
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