Producers: Jerry Bruckheimer, Joseph Kosinski, Lewis Hamilton, Brad Pitt, Dede Gardner, Jeremy Kleiner and Chad Oman Director: Joseph Kosinski Screenplay: Ehren Kruger Cast: Brad Pitt, Damson Idris, Kerry Condon, Javier Bardem, Tobias Menzies, Kim Bodnia, Sarah Niles, Samson Kayo, Abdul Salis, Shea Whigham, Joseph Balderrama, Callie Cooke and Will Merrick Distributor: Warner Bros.
Grade: C+
The “F” in the title of this auto racing drama stands for “Formula,” of course, but “Formulaic” is more like it. “F1 The Movie” is a compendium of clichés and commercialism, and an assault on the ears as well as the brain. But fans of the sport will eat it up, and it’s likely to be a big hit.
Brad Pitt swaggers through the film, pausing every once in a while to flash that patented smile, as Sonny Hayes, a onetime F1 driver who’s now a peripatetic one, travelling from race to race in a beat-up old van for the thrill of the speed, and for the cash he requires to feed his gambling habit. He’s introduced at the tail end of the 24 Hours of Daytona endurance race, as he hands over the wheel to his partner after breathlessly seizing the lead, collects his check and drives off to another venue, unconcerned about taking a celebrity lap; his nonchalant attitude toward recognition amazes and amuses Chip Hart (the seemingly inevitable Shea Whigham), his team manager.
On his way to another gig, Sonny’s accosted by an old friend and teammate, Ruben Cervantes (Javier Bardem), who pleads with him to return to the F1 after three decades’ absence caused by a tragic crash. Ruben’s the owner of the APXGP team, which is on its last legs in the current F1’s circuit of races, and needs a seasoned driver to partner with talented but cocky rookie Josh Pearce (Damon Idris) to try turning things around. Deeply in debt, Ruben’s survival as owner is on the line, though there are members of the board, like Peter Banning (Tobias Menzies), who seem supportive. Sonny initially demurs, but, no surprise, comes around.
But he’s not universally welcomed. Some reporters dismiss him not so much as a has-been as a never-was, and Josh is positively hostile; his coolly derisive treatment of the old newcomer at a press conference even leads his protective mother (Sarah Niles) to instruct her boy to apologize, though his agent (Samson Kayo) encourages his worst instincts.
Sonny also has to prove himself to the rest of the APXGRP team, most notably gruff general manager Kaspar Molinski (Kim Bodnia) and technical director Kate McKenna (Kerry Condon), the first woman to hold that position in F1, whose car has come in for heavy criticism. They’re initially skeptical about his observations about the operation and his recklessness on the track, but eventually he wins them over; indeed, Kate is predictably attracted romantically to the aging but gorgeous guy.
With Josh it’s a harder sell, but the hokey old plot in which the cocky young whippersnapper learns an important lesson from an older mentor—whether it be a would-be gunslinger taking tips from the slowing master, or—as in this case—an up-and-coming sports phenom being taught that, as one might put it, “it’s the game, not the fame” that matters. (It might be noted that while the sexism implicit in McKenna’s story gets direct attention in Ehren Kruger’s script, the racial disparity implicit in the rarity of drivers who, like Pearce, are black is skirted over.)
As corny as most of the personal drama in “F1” is, though, most viewers are likely to forgive it because of the excitement of the race action, which Kosinski and cinematographer Claudio Miranda try to pull off with the same dash and kinetic energy they brought to the flying sequences in “Top Gun: Maverick,” a similar tale of an older guy and youngsters who should learn from him. But while they do their utmost, the earthbound circling of cars around tracks simply doesn’t possess the sheer exaltation of jets in the air, however expertly choreographed and reinforced with overwhelming engine noise and a pounding score by Hans Zimmer.
But there are other reasons why the race action, as splendidly staged—and edited by Stephen Mirrione, with excellent VFX supervised by Ryan Tudhope—as it is, isn’t as effective as the “Maverick” sequences. One is that we see only snippets of the string of Grands Prix which with the event closes, and so are dependent on the commentary of mostly off-screen TV announcers to put them into perspective. And as usual in such cases, the observations, delivered in typically overwrought fashion, are banal (“He’s taken the lead!”) and boring, the sort of screenwriting crutch that proves deadening. (The screenplay is also pretty flippant about the rules of F1, presuming viewers will know them already.)
The other is the crush of commercialism that characterizes the races—and the film as well. The entire movie is, of course, an advertisement for the F1, and in some cases for the countries in which the various Grands Prix are run (we see a lot of Abu Dhabi at the last one—could some financing have been involved?). But the cars and racing duds themselves are like billboards honoring sponsors (you might come out with “GEICO” impressed on your eyelids), and there are signs scattered promiscuously around the track; some of us might appreciate it if the one prominently displayed for crypto.com had been the site of one of the crashes that periodically occur. The deluge of advertising is wearying enough on a small TV screen; on an IMAX one it’s positively oppressive.
Nonetheless one can’t deny that the mixture of hoary drama and visceral adrenaline rush will prove a potent mixture for many, especially when presented on such a massive scale as it is here. Certainly the picture is as sleek and shiny as any of the cars, testimony not only to the efforts of Kosinski, Miranda, Tudhope and Mirrione but those of production designers Mark Tildesley and Ben Munro and costumer Julian Day. And while the sound design and Zimmer’s score might be on the very verge of the ear-bleeding spectrum, especially in IMAX sound, plenty of viewers will find the din intoxicating.
And, of course, Pitt provides old movie-star charisma to burn as he smiles and smolders his way through a part that fits him like one of Sonny’s gloves, and while Idris can’t match him in that department, he proves a pretty imposing partner/rival. (He’s not really a villain, though, and that’s one area where the script is lacking: the only true bad guy, who shows up in the last act, is awfully weak.) No one else shines here, not even Bardem, who can’t do much with a very secondary role. And Condon, so luminous in “The Banshees of Inishiren,” must pretty much get by on her looks here. Everyone else is okay at best.
Professional auto racing movies, both fictional, quasi-fictional and documentary, extend back to the silent movie era, and while they’re understandably a variable lot, there have been some real nuggets amidst the dross. “F1” aims for the winner’s circle but winds up, despite its sheen, in the middle of the pack. Fans of Formula 1 will, however, probably pack theatre auditoriums just as they do the bleachers at the real thing. If the movie appeals to you, however, don’t wait for it to migrate to streaming; as hokey and predictable as it might be, it won’t have nearly the same visceral impact on a small screen that it possesses in an IMAX house.