
Summer Superyacht Season Starts In Style At The Monaco Grand Prix
The F1 field race out of turn one uphill next to the port during the F1 Grand Prix of Monaco at ... More Circuit de Monaco in Monte-Carlo, Monaco. (Photo by Bryn Lennon - Formula 1/Formula 1 via Getty Images)
Every race on the Formula 1 calendar attracts cool, famous, wealthy, and powerful people. But, when it comes combining royalty, intrigue, history, and most of all, superyachts with raw Formula 1 power, few events can compete with the Monaco Grand Prix that takes place this weekend
Anyone who's been to the Monaco Grand Prix before knows how hard it is to get a prime spot to watch the races from the deck of a superyacht moored in the harbor. I'm sorry to report I can't invite you to all of the onboard parties (frankly, I don't have too many invites either!), but I can give you a little glimpse of some of the yachts that are there already and will be there for the race.
Kismet
Kismet will be in Monaco for the Monaco GP this weekend
I'm just going to call Shahid Kahn's Kismet the 'Queen' of the fleet. I mean, what more can you say about this 400-foot-long superyacht (which was built by Lürssen, features an exterior design by Nuvolari Lenard and an interior design by Reymond Langton Design and is available for charter with Cecil Wright) that hasn't already been said?
Kismet's large beach club area
Well, she's fresh off being named Motor Yacht of The Year at the World Superyacht Awards in Venice. She costs well north of $3 million per week to charter. And oh yeah, she has cinema on the lower deck—complete with an underwater seating area—and a 7-star wellness area that's two full stars better than a 5-star wellness area.
King Benji
King Benji
Here are the facts. The 154-foot-long King Benji was built by Dunya Yachts and launched in 2024. The interior was designed by Design Unlimited, and the exterior styling is by Gregory C. Marshall. Now, here's my take after giving the King Benji's hot tub a rigorous test during the Palm Beach International Boat Show earlier this year.
King Benji's dual hot tubs
I think the hot tubs—plural—on the foredeck might provide great viewing. The massive aft deck may provide one of the best viewing platforms of any of the yachts that are moored stern-to the racecourse, and it might turn into the ultimate dance floor when the parties kick off after the race cars are back in pits.
Kamalaya
Kamalaya has a large top deck for watching the Monaco Grand Prix
While I won't go so far to say Kamalaya's interior is just like Claridge's £60,000/per night penthouse. I will say that Kamalaya's interiors were designed by Remi Tessier who designed Claridge's £60,000/per night penthouse which spans the entire rooftop of the hotel and features 75 works by Damien Hirst.
The Zen-like interior of Kamalaya
I will also say that when Kamalaya is not trackside at the Monaco Grand Prix, she's can be found cruising anywhere from Svalbard to San Tropez.
Lady Trudy
Lady Trudy at anchor
Some people say the 42.6-meter long Lady Trudy built by CRN is the perfect charter yacht for the Monaco Grand Prix in that size range because exterior deck spaces are comparable to those found on a 50 meter yacht. Now, I can't say for sure just how big the deck spaces are. But I will venture a guess that the outdoor cinema and comfortable outdoor seating might just make for a perfect Monaco Grand Prix viewing experience.
Extra Time
Extra Time underway
The Conrad C144s Extra Time was launched last year and features a Reymond Langton Design exterior, a M2Atelier-designed interior, and naval architecture from Diana Yacht Design. And it will be a killer spot to watch the race simply because, no matter what yacht you are on, no other sporting event connects with the fans quite like the Monaco Grand Prix.
Stay tuned as I'll be adding more yachts to this list as I learn about their presence at the Monaco Grand Prix.
Hashtags

Try Our AI Features
Explore what Daily8 AI can do for you:
Comments
No comments yet...
Related Articles
Yahoo
38 minutes ago
- Yahoo
‘F1' Review: Brad Pitt Speeds His Way Through a Solid Summer Blockbuster That Never Reaches Top Gear
In a clever flex of corporate synergy, Apple promoted its first summer blockbuster with the release of a haptic trailer that imitates the purr of an F1 engine in the palms of your hands. The clip delivers such well-calibrated vibrations that watching it on an iPhone makes it seem like you're microdosing 4DX right on the subway, or the toilet, or wherever it is you choose to enjoy the film industry's latest breakthrough in vertical integration. But the real potency of this ad, and the real potential of the technology that it represents, can only be experienced by viewing the promo on mute — the haptic feedback is so nuanced and expressive that you can literally feel the basic plot and emotions of Joseph Kosinski's 'F1' through your fingertips. It's the closest thing to 'pure cinema' I've ever enjoyed on a device that I primarily use for playing Marvel Snap and Googling answers to my five-year-old son's trivia questions (yes, a rhino could outrun Usain Bolt). More from IndieWire How Two Weddings Altered the Course of Modern Love in Celine Song's 'Materialists' 'The Waterfront' Review: Netflix's Sludgy Family Crime Drama Is a Shallow Reflection of Better Shows How disappointing, then, that the film itself manages to offer so little of the same thrill, despite the benefit of booming Dolby speakers, the scale of an IMAX screen, and the sleekness of a director whose aesthetic naturally cleaves towards Apple commercials (see: 'Oblivion'). That's certainly not for lack of trying. Determined to bring the same you are there verisimilitude to race cars that they did to fighter jets in 'Top Gun: Maverick,' Kosinski, cinematographer Claudio Miranda, and superproducer Jerry Bruckheimer have gone to extraordinary lengths to capture the essence of F1 — lengths that include turning Brad Pitt and co-star Damson Idris into legit Grand Prix drivers, attaching hi-def micro-cameras to the frames of their vehicles as the actors whipped around the world's most famous tracks, and filming at the actual events that are depicted in the movie. Not only was the fictional APXGP team granted its own garage right between Scuderia Ferrari and Mercedes, but the pre-race party Idris' character attends before the tour's Las Vegas pitstop is even hosted by the real DJ Tiësto! 'F1' is far too sincere in its crowd-pleasing ambitions to feel like a fully licensed piece of $200 million sponcon, but the movie's commitment to authenticity extends to every aspect of its titular sport, both on the track and off, as its mission to win over new converts is only outdone by its eagerness to satisfy diehard fans. Alas, Formula One has always been a testament to the difficulty of striking the right balance between power and precision, and 'F1' embodies that aspect of the sport all too well. Always entertaining for how effectively it welds hyper-modern spectacle to the chassis of a classic underdog story (the latter part of that equation paving the way for Pitt's most Billy Bean-coded performance since 'Moneyball'), Kosinski's film can be propulsive and exhilarating in spurts, but in working so hard to satisfy newbies and experts at the same time that it often struggles to seize on its simplest pleasures. Misfits becoming teammates. Losers finding redemption. Cars going really, really fast. All of these things are key parts of the mix, but for a movie so preoccupied with the difference between sound and noise (what's relevant to a racer at 200 M.P.H. vs. what they need to tune out), 'F1' often fails to lock in on what really matters to its defining moments — a frustration that's reflected in everything from character arcs and backstories to shot selections and the incessant use of broadcast-like color commentaries. Your whole body will vibrate for the better part of this film's speedy 156-minute running time, and few other blockbusters this summer will be more fun to experience at a level of volume that you can't get at home, but loudness is a sad consolation prize for a movie whose own trailer didn't need any sound at all to better capture the flow state that its protagonist lives to chase. Sonny Hayes (Pitt) hasn't enjoyed the most storied of professional racing careers, but you can tell from his name alone — a perfect movie name — that he was born to be in the driver's seat, and that he doesn't belong anywhere else. A future star of the F1 circuit until a devastating 1993 crash turned him from a 'will be' to a 'never was,' Sonny has spent the last 30 years as a wandering samurai who's taken any job that came attached to a pair of wheels, from a stock car racer to a New York City cab driver. Somewhere between a stoic Western archetype and a shit-eating myth, he lives in a van where he can suffer hotly in peace. The money never mattered to Sonny (he only needed enough to support his gambling addiction), and winning has always been little more than a means to an end — the shortest path to the self-actualization that he gets from being one with the road. Except, three decades of feeling like a loser seems to have taken its toll, and the first thing he tells his Daytona teammate in the film's opening scene is that he'll kill him if the guy blows their lead. This is as much insight as we'll ever get into the tao of Sonny, but it's enough to understand why he hesitates when his old racing buddy Ruben Cervantes (Javier Bardem), now the desperate owner of the worst team on the F1 circuit, shows up with an unprecedented offer for a washed-up 60-year-old nobody: Become the not-so-new face of APXGP and save what's left of their season so that Ruben doesn't lose the company. It's a hail Mary, and Sonny isn't sure the risk of embarrassment is worth the paycheck that comes with it, but he can't turn down the chance at the glory that once got away from him and/or the chance to drive the world's fastest cars. And so, before we even get to the title card, Ehren Kruger's sleek and sturdy script has already put the story's foundation in place. All that's left is for Sonny to spar with APXGP's hotshot rookie driver (an instantly compelling Idris as cocky London native Joshua Pearce, all flash to Sonny's zen-like calm), make eyes at the sport's first female technical director (the ever-appealing Kerry Condon, squeezing worlds of personality out of a human plot device), and learn to get out of his own way as he comes to appreciate that F1 is a team sport. A few other bits take shape in the margins, including a garbled subplot involving Tobias Menzies as a techbro financier and some 'Ted Lasso'-adjacent hijinks with APXGP's winsome pit crew (unrelated to 'Lasso' alum Sarah Niles' performance as Joshua's mom), but 'F1' is generally as straightforward and predictable as any of the nine different tracks that Sonny zooms around over the course of the film. In theory that should work to the benefit of this vintage Bruckheimer vehicle, and occasionally it does. The simplicity of the film's story makes it easier for Kosinski to accommodate the arcane nature of F1's rules, even if he never finds a satisfying way to incorporate them on the fly, and — similar to Kruger's script for 'Maverick' — the lack of a clear villain for most of the movie allows the focus to remain squarely on the main characters, who are racing against each other and themselves to a much greater degree than they are any of the drivers from rival teams. But where 'Maverick' was able to support that focus with decades of baked-in pathos, 'F1' is forced to rely on the ample charms of its cast. While no one will ever get bored watching Pitt and Idris push each other's buttons, there isn't exactly a world of depth behind Sonny's leathered renegade schtick (it's a bit tiresome how many times he races outside the lines without alerting the rest of his team), just as the complexities of Joseph's arrogance are mostly hidden in the folds of Idris' performance. More frustrating is that the actual racing sequences are less expressive than the dialogue scenes. While the realism of the film's grand prix events is obviously second to none (silly as some of Sonny's rule-skirting gambits can be), and Kosinski has a proven track record of making speed look even cooler in the movies than it does in real life, 'F1' makes the mistake of trying to reconcile the experience of driving Formula One with the experience of watching it on TV. The most obvious symptom of that is the aforementioned broadcast commentary, which narrates literally everything that happens during the races. In large part, that's a necessary evil of a film that has to explain how placing, safety cars, and tire grades work to an audience of neophytes in real-time. But in order to disguise the expository function of the commentary and affirm the authenticity of the average fan's F1 experience (which is to say: enjoying the races from their couch rather than the stands), the narration is also prone to saying things like 'Sonny has fallen to last place! That's not going to make AXPGP happy.' On TV, that sort of color helps confer a narrative onto unconstructed reality. In the context of this movie, it crushes the reality out of a constructed narrative. The driver's seat of an F1 car is pretty small to begin with, and Kosinski's film — which constantly defaults to a 'Star Wars'-like cockpit shot in order to show us Sonny's face while proving that Pitt is actually behind the wheel — leaves viewers precious little space to engage with the film's characters on their own terms. The emotional impact is so blunted that our only choice is to surrender to the booming spectacle of it all (Hans Zimmer, take the wheel), but even that proves difficult in a film that never quite solves how to handle the sameness of a 44-lap race. Kosinski is limited to 15 camera positions on each car, few of which capture anything more than wheel-to-wheel intensity, and he compensates for that lack of choice by restlessly cutting between them. It's as if the film is trying to reflect Sonny's agitated pursuit of clarity amid the chaos (a suspicion that's strengthened by subtle changes in the editing towards the end), and every merciful retreat to a top-down angle feels like a concession to the fact that Kosinski hasn't found a more satisfying way to shoot F1 than they do on TV. The action is hardly dull, but the sheer disconnect between the wowee zowee immediacy of the race footage and the mezzo mezzo excitement it inspires suggests that tuning out the noise isn't as easy as Sonny Hayes might seem to think. 'Sometimes when you lose, you win,' Ruben tells his old friend. And sometimes when you win, this solid but underwhelming blockbuster contends, you still lose. Apple Original Films and Warner Bros. Studios will release 'F1' in theaters on Friday, June 27. Want to stay up to date on IndieWire's film and critical thoughts? to our newly launched newsletter, In Review by David Ehrlich, in which our Chief Film Critic and Head Reviews Editor rounds up the best new reviews and streaming picks along with some exclusive musings — all only available to subscribers. Best of IndieWire The 25 Best Alfred Hitchcock Movies, Ranked Every IndieWire TV Review from 2020, Ranked by Grade from Best to Worst
Yahoo
7 hours ago
- Yahoo
Pogba says he is talking to a club about comeback after ban
Paul Pogba went to Cannes in May to see crime film "Highest 2 Lowest" and may return to the Riviera to join Monaco after his own legal dramas (Sameer AL-DOUMY) Former France midfielder Paul Pogba, who wants to resume his career after a doping ban, said on French television on Sunday he is "talking" with a club, which sources close to him said was Monaco. The 32-year-old also said he had re-established contact with his brother Mathias, sentenced to a year in prison last December for his involvement in a plot to extort 13 million euros ($15 million) from the 2018 World Cup winner. Advertisement Pogba, who played for Manchester United and Juventus, is hoping to put three chaotic years behind him. Pogba suffered through repeated injuries and patchy form that led to his departure from United in 2022. He returned for a second stint at Juventus, where his problems continued. He failed a drugs test after a game in Italy in August 2023 and was handed a four-year doping ban, which was reduced 18 months on appeal. It ended in March. "It was very, very hard," he said. He said he was "talking" to a club, which multiple sources said was Ligue 1 Monaco. Pogba said he was determined "to get back on the pitch, mentally ready, physically ready, it's just a matter of time". Advertisement The extortion case involving six men linked to Paul Pogba shocked France because the perpetrators included three childhood friends and his own brother. The five other defendants were found guilty of extortion, kidnapping and detention, as well as participation in a criminal association, and sentenced to up to eight years in prison. All six were also fined. Paul Pogba said he was talking to Mathias who is being allowed to serve his sentence wearing an electronic bracelet rather than behind bars. "We are in contact. We've spoken, among ourselves, with the family," Paul Pogba said. "It's a blood bond. There was a scar, of course. We're moving forward. Only time can give us answers." Advertisement "All we want is to always be united as a family. That's the most important thing. It's hard. Of course it's very hard, I'm not going to lie. I was hurt. It's not the same as before, but we're in touch," he added. Paul Pogba was held at gunpoint in 2022 by two hooded men who demanded money. He said on Sunday that he was initially willing to pay but "afterwards, I cracked," he said, deciding "to speak out, even if it meant dying" and refusing "to throw away my money like that". He said the ban and the court case had changed him "I learned a lot during this period," Pogba said. "I did a lot of cleaning around myself too. I am also much closer to my family, my children." eba/pb/ea
Yahoo
9 hours ago
- Yahoo
‘Everyone is rich, nobody cares': My weekend with Monaco's jet set
There is Monaco, and then there is Monaco. Many of us have visited the former, sitting at wrought-iron tables on café terraces, strolling along the promenade, visiting the parts of the magnificent palace which are open to the public. But while we are visiting the MAMAC museum and taking photos on Casino Square, a wholly separate Monaco is going on behind closed doors – on private rooftops, on balconies carefully shrouded from prying eyes by delicately manicured foliage, in clubs identifiable only by discreet plaques, and tucked away in the deepest recesses of Monte Carlo's hotels and casinos. It is a world in which most of us are unlikely ever to find ourselves. Yes, it is a club into which you can buy (or marry) your way, as many have. But money will only take you so far: its eccentric upper reaches are reserved for a select few – a pack with if not necessarily blue, then at least purple, blood. And like the Four Hundred of erstwhile New York, this club is, for the most part, a closed shop. On previous visits to Monaco, I had once or twice glimpsed this veiled world: the neatly preserved, white-haired women in tasteful tailored garb, watching haughtily from the top deck of the yacht club; aristocratically jawed gentlemen and shipping magnates smoking cigars on the balcony at the very back of the Casino de Monte Carlo. I was fascinated by it, longing for a closer look – and reasoned there could be few better opportunities than during the Monaco Grand Prix, 'the jewel in Formula 1's crown' and – alongside the likes of the Yacht Show, the Tennis Masters and the lavish Bal de la Rose – a stalwart of the Principality's glittering social season. If I was going to experience Monaco's essence at its most distilled – to rub shoulders with incognito minor royals and 12th generation patricians – this was surely the place to do it. My temporary access to this exclusive, elusive world came courtesy of British firm Go Privilege, one of a new and unusual breed of high-end concierge outfits which specialise in the sort of VIP gatherings I was keen to observe. They set me up with two of their Monaco packages – Friday aboard a trackside yacht (£1,000), and Sunday watching the Grand Prix itself from the terrace of Hotel Metropole's Yoshi, Monte Carlo's only Michelin-star Japanese restaurant (£3,495). It all felt too easy, as though someone had given me the secret password for some hidden back door. I packed every outfit I owned that could be reasonably passed off as quiet luxury, and arrived in Monte Carlo as the F1 practice sessions were kicking off. I was immediately whisked to my first Go Privilege engagement: a swish all-day party aboard 37-metre superyacht Sea Bluez, moored feet from the track in Port Hercule, one of a neat row of similarly lavish tri-deck crafts. A top-end tender zipped us across the port to its bow, weaving between other floating megaliths – on the right, Bernard Arnault's Symphony, with its helipad; on the left, Sir Philip Green's huge, sinuous Lionheart. Behind them, Monte Carlo's bizarrely beautiful patchwork of Belle Époque piles and incongruous high rises climbed towards the steep foothills of Mont Agel, its twisting streets and alleys crammed with people. On board the yacht, champagne flowed, and glamorous people in dark glasses and delicately branded sportswear drifted between the aft deck and a table in the salon laid with chichi snacks. In the lulls between races, some retired to the sundeck, applying a sunscreen which doesn't officially exist yet from glass vials which waited on each table, as a DJ played waves of gently pulsing ambient mood music. A woman in a candy-striped Gucci shirt hinted that there was at least one young aristocrat aboard the yacht moored beside us (a young Habsburg enjoying the fruits of their dynasty, perhaps?), and on the other side, two impeccably dressed men – one holding a tiny dog, the other wearing an Hermes cravat – watched inscrutably from a dining table on their promenade deck as Charles Leclerc's Ferrari buzzed by, 10 feet away. Opposite, in the tiered plastic chairs of the viewing terraces, gently perspiring in racing caps and Brioni polos, sat the sort of spectators for whom a €2,000 day's ticket – almost twice the cost of my place on the yacht – had been an inconsequential expense. In any other context, they'd have been the VIPs – but here, they were the poor relation; literally on the wrong side of the track. It was aboard the yachts around us that the magnates and countesses lurked, nonchalantly sipping champagne against a backdrop of gleaming white boats and dark shimmering water. 'Important people have always come to Monte Carlo,' a distinguished elderly Frenchman told me, when we got chatting near the ceviche platter. 'For some it's about being seen, but for the really important ones, it's about not being seen. Here, everyone is rich – nobody cares. If you walk down the street, nobody bothers you.' And then it was Sunday – race day – and I was meandering down the stately sunlit driveway of the Hotel Metropole, where a handful of cars had been given special permission to park. Some were merely expensive – but many others were custom made (the entirely baby pink Lamborghini Urus, for example), or officially non-existent (a brand shared by some of the cars on the track, for instance, but which is not currently known to produce SUVs). All was calm and quiet, a world away from the maelstrom of surging bodies and hi-viz attired marshalls penned in by narrow streets and metal barriers. Inside Yoshi, the hotel's Japanese restaurant, another clutch of effortlessly glamorous people milled around, picking at finger food (nigiri, takoyaki, lobster rolls, choux buns), still sipping champagne, and intermittently strolling out onto the terrace. I followed them, tottering up to the thick baroque balustrade. This, I'd been told, was one of Monaco's finest Grand Prix vantage points – but nothing could have prepared me for the reality of it. Barely five metres below was the track, stretching all the way to Casino Square corner on my right, and down into Mirabeau Haute, one of the circuit's most technically challenging bends (evidenced by its escape lane), to my left. As I gawped, the drivers' parade appeared on the crest of the hill; an open float carrying F1's golden boys, almost close enough to shake our hands. While we waited for the main event, I chatted to evenly tanned people – including a woman in white linen whose cheekbones could only have been the result of carefully considered breeding – who introduced themselves with enigmatic ambiguity: 'I'm an entrepreneur'. 'I have a little business'. I had expected there to be a great rush back to the balustrade when the Grand Prix itself began, but when the low-slung cars started to roar by – the smell of burnt rubber wafting up with every pass – I was surprised to note little change in tempo. People ambled out, watched a few laps, pointed to the car of Verstappen or Norris, then returned to the lacquered tables inside, which were now being laid with dessert. 'Don't you want to see?' I asked a stately 60-something gent – with slicked-back hair and an expression that suggested inherent satisfaction – as he disinterestedly sipped a tot of scotch. 'They go round; someone wins, someone loses. I've seen it before,' he replied, shrugging. 'Everyone here has seen it before.' He smiled and raised his glass. 'And now, so have you.' I replayed his words in my mind later that night – as I ordered a sad sandwich at a countertop bar in Nice Airport and waited in vain for someone to top up my glass of warm wine. And it dawned on me: earlier that day, I had been the one on a private balcony, carefully shrouded from prying eyes by delicately manicured foliage. I had not just managed a closer look at the world of Monaco's elite – I had, briefly, been living in it. It turns out that, if you know the password, getting through the hidden back door is the easy bit. The hard part – I realised, as a stale baguette arrived in front of me – is leaving it. Gemma Knight-Gilani was a guest of Go Privilege, whose Monaco Grand Prix 2026 packages start at £895 per person per day (Yoshi terrace at Hotel Metropole) and £1,000 per person per day (superyacht viewing), including all food, drinks and VIP passes. Broaden your horizons with award-winning British journalism. Try The Telegraph free for 1 month with unlimited access to our award-winning website, exclusive app, money-saving offers and more.