Set in the world of Formula One racing, the easy, oh-so breezy “F1 The Movie” wants you to believe that it’s about winning and losing, talent and teamwork and all the tough love and hard work that go into Grand Prix glory. That’s the pitch, though there’s both more and less at play. An enjoyably arranged collection of all the visual attractions and narrative clichés that money can buy, “F1” is very simply about the satisfactions of genre cinema and the pleasures of watching appealing characters navigate fast, exotic cars that whine like juiced-up mosquitoes. It’s also about the pleasures of that ultrasmooth performance machine, Brad Pitt.
At once calculated and almost touchingly sincere, the story is as formulaic as its title subject. Pitt plays Sonny Hayes, a driver who could’ve been, should’ve been, a world-class contender. Recruited for service by an old pal, Ruben (a silky Javier Bardem), Sonny gets one last proverbial chance to prove himself while facing the customary hurdles, including his past, a wary crew, a corporate tool and a hungry young rival. There are crackups, breakdowns, near-misses and some well-lit darkish nights (well, minutes) of the soul. Three women have decent speaking roles; all share at least one meaningful moment with Sonny.
The whole sleek package is as hackneyed as it sounds, but when the cars and cameras zoom around the track, it scarcely matters. A great deal depends on your love of or maybe just tolerance for straightforward, ostentatious, professionally crafted spectacles that don’t ask much of you but time and money. In return, you get nearly three hours of fizzy drama, some superficial peeks into a rarefied world and a studiously casual, tousled and tanned Pitt in classic Hollywood Zen master mode. Much like the movie itself, which is an enjoyable metaphor for the filmgoing experience, Pitt’s star performance is nothing if not self-reflexive.
To that end, the director Joseph Kosinski showcases Pitt like an old-studio attraction, bathing him in pretty light, putting him in signifying outfits — think of a coyly grinning, blue-jeaned Robert Redford circa the 1970s — and at times stripping off some of that clothing. Kosinski buffed Tom Cruise to a similar high gloss in “Top Gun: Maverick.” As in that movie, “F1” deploys its star for a classic setup between an individual and a community, one in which a loner-outsider rides in to deliver wisdom and near-mystical gifts. (The producers include Lewis Hamilton, a seven-time Formula One world champ, and Jerry Bruckheimer, who, with films like “Top Gun,” helped define modern American blockbuster cinema.)
Written by Ehren Kruger, the veneer-thin story opens with Sonny at Daytona, where he awakes in his van next to the speedway, fires up Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” and runs winning circles around the competition. Not long after, his former track rival, Bardem’s Ruben, offers Sonny a chance to drive for a (fictional) losing Formula One team. Sonny takes it, sliding into an aerodynamic open-wheel ride amid some back story, character development, pro forma antagonism with a hotshot teammate, Joshua (Damson Idris), and a romance with the team’s technical director, Kate (Kerry Condon), all elements that the filmmakers use like brick mortar to help build what is effectively a series of races into a cohesive whole.
It’s no surprise given that the Formula One organization cooperated in the making of “F1” that there are no shocks or revelations about it or the controversies relating to its current leadership. Like other racing movies, including John Frankenheimer’s “Grand Prix” (1966), and Ron Howard’s “Rush” (2013), personalities drive this movie and sell the brand. And, also like those films — and Michael Mann’s 2024 biographical portrait “Ferrari” — Kosinski amps up “F1” by trying to lessen the distance between you and the racers. He does that partly by integrating images of Formula One events, from the tracks to the crowded stands, with shots of Pitt and Idris doing their own driving in cars tricked out to look like the real deal.
Much like Formula One does during its races, Kosinski and his team have tried to intensify the audience’s experience by mounting multiple cameras onboard the cars, which together provide a collagelike display of different viewpoints, from inside the vehicles and out. The results look unsurprisingly brighter, glossier and significantly more artful than those captured by Formula One (it also uses itty-bitty helmet cams) and have been edited together for maximum dramatic tension and pow. As the camera angles change along with the gears, creating a rotation of close-ups and wider shots, you are, by turns, watching Sonny and Joshua watch the track, other drivers and each other, sharing their circuit of gazes.
Every so often, as Sonny and Joshua zip around, visors down, you see their eyes in close-up, alternately narrowing and bugging, perhaps much like yours. As intended, these images help close the divide between you and the characters, and they amplify the movie’s visceral effect, which you can feel down to your toes. Formula One’s attempt to put its fans in the driver’s seat, or thereabouts, is a reminder of the cinematification of everyday life. For its part, “F1” is a reminder that sometimes, though maybe especially when you need a break from reality and its banal spectacles, some movies can still sweep you up and transport you to other far-out realms — a foundational power that remains, no matter who’s in the driver’s seat.
F1: The Movie
Rated PG-13 for speed freakery. Running time: 2 hours 35 minutes. In theaters.
Manohla Dargis is the chief film critic for The Times.
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