Review: “F1: The Movie” puts pedal to the metal

By Arman Saxena     9/2/25 8:55pm

Joseph Kosinski, Claudio Miranda and Jerry Bruckheimer — the trio behind “Top Gun: Maverick” — return to high-octane spectacle with “F1,” a sports drama that blends spectacle with surprising humanity. It’s loud, stylish and frequently overwhelming, but it’s also one of the most engaging racing movies in years. 

From the jump, the film makes it clear that audiences won’t just see speed, they’ll feel it. Miranda’s camera puts us inside the cockpit, rattling and blurring as if our bodies were being thrown into the barriers themselves. This technique sometimes edges toward disorientation, but more often than not, it captures the thrill of racing in a way most sports films struggle to convey. 

The sound design matches this energy. Hans Zimmer’s booming score — equal parts synth, guitar and seismic percussion — amplifies every downshift and corner. In Dolby Atmos, the roar of engines doubles as a kind of rave drop, turning each restart into a physical experience. 

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The cast provides the grounding. Brad Pitt’s Sonny Hayes enters the film with cowboy swagger — jeans, smirk and all — as an aging wheelman-for-hire recruited by Javier Bardem’s Ruben Cervantes to salvage Apex, a debt-ridden, point-starved team on the brink of collapse. Known as “the greatest that never was,” Hayes brings both grit and redemption-seeking vulnerability, sparring with brash rookie driver Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris) and clashing with engineering whiz Kate  McKenna (Kerry Condon).

What elevates the film, however, is Kosinski’s attention to the pit crew. Long ignored in racing films, the mechanics and strategists are given space to shine. A mid-film montage of overnight part fabrication, tire simulations and a young crew member haunted by a mistake underscores the central point: racing is not about one driver, but about the hundreds of people behind them. 

If the film has a weakness, it’s the bombast. At times, it leans heavily on flash and Zimmer’s wall-of-sound to paper over thin dialogue or predictable story beats. But the craft wins out. The tactile focus on engineering — wind tunnels, brake temperatures and race simulations — transforms what could have been hollow spectacle into something oddly reverent. 

In the end, “F1” doesn’t reinvent the sports film, but it doesn’t need to. It delivers on the visceral promise of its subject matter and respects the people behind the machines. It’s thrilling, heartfelt and best seen on the largest screen possible — just don’t try driving home like you’re in Monaco.

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