Health & Diet

Nowness - IBFA British Bodybuilding

There’s something almost spiritual about watching a 73-year-old man step onto a stage in nothing but posing trunks, bronzed skin glowing under harsh spotlights, muscles tense, and eyes steeled with purpose. It’s not just spectacle — it’s defiance. It’s poetry etched in sinew. And in Jack Flynn’s short film The Masters, that defiance is quietly, powerfully documented as he travels to Gateshead for the IBFA British Bodybuilding Finals.

Flynn isn't there to gawk. He’s there to listen.

At the heart of The Masters is Ken — 73, lean, and fierce — who guides us not only through the event but through decades of commitment that most people can barely imagine. This isn’t just about weightlifting. It’s about memory, discipline, and the fragile beauty of pushing the body beyond what time traditionally allows.

Bodybuilding veterans defy ageing to compete at the IBFA British  Bodybuilding Finals in Gateshead - YouTube

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The IBFA Finals, specifically its ‘Masters’ category, opens a rare window into a world often misunderstood — the world of aging athletes who never put the weights down. For them, bodybuilding isn’t a vanity project. It’s not about winning medals or carving Instagram abs. It’s about continuity. Resilience. The act of saying “I’m still here” with every flex and pose. But Flynn’s lens captures more than just muscle. He captures ritual. There’s the smell of self-tanner, the sound of clanking dumbbells in makeshift prep areas, the silence before a contestant walks on stage — a sacred hush before eruption. It’s this attention to detail, to mood, to atmosphere, that makes The Masters less a documentary and more a portrait. What becomes clear through the film, and through conversations with athletes like Ken, is that bodybuilding at this level is less about aesthetics and more about identity. These are not men clinging to youth — they are men who’ve made peace with time by confronting it head-on. They’ve replaced fear with habit, decline with routine. They don’t speak in clichés about “being the best version of yourself.” They just show up. Every day.

One man, in his 60s, talks about the gym as his sanctuary. It’s where he goes not to forget his age, but to honor what age has taught him — about pain, patience, and pacing. Another speaks of surviving cancer and returning to the stage as a kind of personal reckoning, his body both scarred and sculpted. There’s vulnerability in this kind of strength. Beneath the rigid poses and strict diets lies a fragile understanding: the body will eventually lose. Gravity always wins. But until then, these athletes fight with grace and grit. And in that fight, they find community — an unspoken brotherhood shaped by reps and routines, early mornings and aching joints, mutual respect and shared sacrifice.

What Flynn offers is not just a glimpse into a niche sport, but a broader meditation on what it means to age with intention. In a culture obsessed with youth, The Masters feels revolutionary not because it shows older men being strong, but because it allows them to be whole — flawed, driven, complicated, and deeply human. The IBFA British Bodybuilding Finals might take place over a single weekend in Gateshead, but for these competitors, it is the culmination of years — even decades — of silent work. No shortcuts. No gimmicks. Just time, endured, and embraced. And that, perhaps, is the real flex. Not the biceps or the abs, but the quiet act of resistance. Of living intentionally. Of showing up, at any age, and daring to be seen.

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