F1 Is A White-Knuckle Thrill Ride With A Mean Streak
Joseph Kosinski’s latest is more than just “Top Gun on wheels,” for better and worse.
It’s borderline impossible — for this writer, at least — not to compare Joseph Kosinski’s latest film to Top Gun: Maverick. The latter might just be the best action film of the decade, equal parts vanity project for its star Tom Cruise and an incubator for the next generation of action stars. Following that perfect storm of action, emotion, and exhilaration is not a task for the faint of heart, but Kosinski makes an admirable attempt with F1 (or F1: The Movie). In some ways, it’s a leaner, meaner answer to all the sappy patriotism of Top Gun, a pivot that largely works in its favor. No matter how fast it zips through its underdog story, however, it can’t quite escape the shadow of its predecessor.
Of course, judging one film on the merits of another isn’t exactly fair — so let’s get the similarities out of the way first. F1 is fortunately a little bit more than just “Top Gun on wheels,” though Formula One does lend itself to allusions of warfare easily enough. Decisions are boiled down to the blink of an eye, and the slightest miscalculation could cost you your life.
F1 is a potent comeback for Pitt, even if the film seems to bend to his will.
Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt) learned this the hard way in 1995. At the Spanish Grand Prix, his one and only shot at becoming the best racer in the world, one cocky move ended his prospects in an instant. Thirty years later, he’s made rock bottom his home. Sonny gets by as an odd jobber, racing in any arena that’ll take him. We’re introduced to his hyper-aggressive style, and the psychological tactics he uses to gain the edge over his competitors, at 24 Hours of Daytona, an all-day, all-night relay race. He scores his team a crucial lead during “the midnight shift,” and eventually a coveted win, but Sonny’s not keen to stick around for the champagne. A new day brings new challenges; he’s halfway to Miami, chasing the next race, before the sun’s had time to rise.
His laissez-faire need for speed is interrupted by Ruben (Javier Bardem), an old teammate who now owns a struggling Formula One team. After three seasons at the very back of the pack, Ruben is staring down a cool $300 million in debt and the threat of a hostile takeover. The F1 season is half-over, his #1 driver is good, “but lacks maturity,” and he needs to win something before his team loses all its worth.
Crackling chemistry and a zippy edit make up for any narrative bloat in F1.
That’s where Sonny comes in: He may be the only one crazy enough to attach himself to a flailing team, the lone driver dynamic enough to bring it back from the brink. With his fiery fall from grace, his seedy past as a gambler, and his scandalous personal life, Sonny should be the last person Ruben calls to rehabilitate his team. (In reality, he’s the ninth.) But he comes when Ruben calls — not for the money, or for the fame, but a secret third thing. His comeback tour won’t be easy, though. Not only does he have to acclimate to a sport that’s changed completely, but he also needs to play nice with Ruben’s rookie, the icy Joshua Pearce (Damson Idris).
Sonny’s dynamic with Joshua tells a tale as old as time. It’s old school vs. new school as Sonny ingratiates himself into the Apex team: Even if he can’t complete a test lap without crashing, and he’s got no stomach for the politics of such a public sport, it doesn’t take long for him to win the team’s begrudging admiration. He puts in the work, and his experience definitely sells itself. That puts Joshua on the back foot in a major way. Sure, he’s got potential, but he’s too focused on his brand deals, or the keyboard warriors examining his every move, to lock in when the time comes.
Idris has potential as Joshua Pearce, but F1 doesn’t give him many chances to shine.
F1 comes so close to getting it right with Joshua’s plight. Professional racing is not for the weak, nor is it the most accessible. It’s a classist sport down to its bones, with competitors constantly courting sponsors or the support of a team. That’s why only one Black racer (Lewis Hamilton, F1’s producer) has risen to the upper echelon — and though he’s proven himself time and again (with seven championships, mind you), he’s still endlessly torn down by the competition. His own experiences in Formula One clearly inspired the chip on Joshua’s shoulder, and in a perfect world — maybe one with a stronger script — that struggle would give him something to connect to Sonny about.
“I had to climb a mountain to get here,” Joshua tells Sonny, once tensions between the racers reach an uncomfortable zenith. It’s as close as F1 gets to examining the dark side of the sport... but it’s not close enough. Sonny dismisses Joshua and his anxieties outright, comparing his search for validation to a “participation trophy.” It’s one of the many tactless attempts to teach this rookie some humility, which always feels one-sided, even mean-spirited. Since F1 never does the same for Sonny — the lone wolf who gambles with his teammates’ lives and barely faces any consequences — the balance of power and privilege between these characters is never truly righted.
F1 is a much messier film than it ought to be, and sometimes that works in its favor. It wears chaos with a sh*t-eating grin and a surprising mean streak, but its frenzy keeps it from achieving the rhythm or momentum you’d expect from a blockbuster of this caliber. Sure, there’s the end goal of, somehow, winning one Grand Prix — but Kosinski and screenwriter Ehren Kruger throw absolutely everything at its heroes in the interim. F1 almost feels like a simulation for everything that can go wrong throughout the season: fiery crashes, injuries, and constant infighting keep Apex from rising at every turn. It’s essentially a humiliation ritual. As the collateral damage mounts and these manchildren make their insecurities everyone else’s problem, you wonder how far they’re willing to sink just to feed their own ego. F1 never delivers a true reckoning for Sonny or Joshua; its race to the finish line plows over any meaningful character work in favor of falsely earnest hero moments for Pitt. But all that mess is easy to forgive (or, at least, forget) when our heroes just shut up and drive.
F1 is bloated at its worst moments, but it snaps to life with its heroes on the track.
F1 snaps to life whenever Pitt and Idris are in the thick of a race. It’s also a sweet spot for Kosinski: His camera moves with a zippy, voyeuristic quality that makes us feel like flies on the wall… or bugs on the windshield. We’re squished into the cockpit alongside Sonny and Joshua as they grapple with a split-second decision; we’re rigged to the side of their cars as their competitors jockey alongside them. It’s a dogfight to the finish, and F1 crafts vehicular combat to convey that sense of urgency, that unique thrill. Sure, Sonny’s tactics can stretch the bounds of disbelief, even for those with only a passing understanding of Formula One. We know that no driver is really going to total his car again and again to sabotage the competition’s momentum. F1 damns logic and safety for our own entertainment, and it’s in taking those risks that the director of Top Gun: Maverick finally comes out to play. If only he brought some of that film’s efficiency or emotion to his follow-up.
