Joseph Kosinski’s globe-trotting, cross-promotional hawking, racing epic “F1” (or technically “F1: The Movie” if you want to be annoying) is a high-speed curiosity of Frankenstinian proportions that somehow holds together by sheer audacity, dumb luck, and the historic stickiness of cinematic tropes.
At the center of the story is Brad Pitt, one of America’s last fledgling movie stars who can hold the smoldering core of a high-concept film in his tastefully tattooed hands better than almost anyone. And hold that center he does in a performance that feels as if they took Tom Cruise’s Pete Mitchell from Kosinski’s own “Top Gun: Maverick” and smushed it against Christian Bale’s cantankerous Le Man racer Ken Miles from “Ford V. Ferrari” with a dash of Billy Bean charm from “Moneyball” for good measure. Sure, the proportions of this synthesized monstrosity are muddy in places, and if you squint, you’d be forgiven for thinking you’re watching a better movie, but there’s no time to worry about that because we’re in Mexico City now and the cars are going vroom vroom! The truth is, if racing thrills are what you seek, you’re in for a pretty good time with “F1.” If you’re in the mood for something with similar thrills that is more substantive, I’d change the channel.
“F1” follows the struggles of down-on-his-luck racing guru Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt), a has-been American driving phenom yearning for one last crack at immortality. You can tell that he’s over the hill because he lives in a van, wears mismatched socks, and doesn’t follow the “rules” He snubs his nose at the polo shirt-wearing experts in the pit, disregards personal safety, and, somehow, always ends up winning. He’s your wandering cowboy in a white t-shirt and jeans, a troubadour with a steering wheel, an “everyman.” At one point, Hayes is described as “punk rock” and I was the only person in the theater laughing. In short, Sonny Hayes is the worst kind of American hero fantasy, a no-nonsense genius with an “aw shucks” attitude and a wry smile which screams, “You may be an astrophysicist lady, but I’m somewhat of an expert myself.” I’d hate to know this man’s opinion on vaccines. Anyway, his old friend (Javier Bardem) owns a Formula One racing team, APX, and asks Hayes to return to the circuit to help save his organization from both an ownership change and a hotshot new driver who has never won a race (Damson Idris). They have nine races to win just one time, or the team, which includes the first female technical director in F1 history (Kerry Condon), who Hayes will definitely NOT try to sleep with, is kaput. Gentlemen, start your training montage.
Anyone who’s ever seen a movie before can accurately arc the ebb and flow of this one. The young kid cares more about his image than the allure of the race, Sonny’s exceptionally American grit is somehow more intuitive about winning races than literally every single person in Europe, and the two are going to butt heads until they can learn to work together as a team. I cannot overstate how much this thing is cribbing from “Top Gun: Maverick”. There’s even a scene where Pitt places himself in a time trial of an impossible task to prove his mettle and gain the respect of his superiors. Almost every aspect of this movie has been done better elsewhere, and if that were all the movie had to offer, I wouldn’t be writing about it. But, as it turns out, there is a good reason to see “F1,” preferably in a theater with rocking sound. This thing is LOUD. Credit where it’s due to filmmakers Kosinski and mega-producer Jerry Bruckheimer, while they were unable to replicate the emotional complexity and nuance that made “Top Gun: Maverick” a resounding triumph, they have been able to transmute the palpable rush of seeing Cruise fly a fighter jet to Pitt driving an F1 racer. By somehow securing cameras on every conceivable nook and cranny of these Tonka-wheeled death machines, Kosinski places the audience right in the middle of the chaos, making every racing sequence thrilling and visceral. The rev of the engines is as much a soundtrack to the movie as Hans Zimmer’s vibey, yet somehow anonymous, score. (Another former “Top Gun: Maverick” collaborator who did better work there. Am I belaboring the similarities? No more so than “F1” does.) Griping aside, this thing is really something to see on a movie screen, even for an F1 neophyte such as myself. Do the races go on a little too long at times? Sure. Do the intricacies of F1 racing get lost in the shuffle? A bit. But does it matter? The movie is big, colorful, and loud, with the vast majority of the running time being devoted to cringingly overt product placement (Anybody else craving a Heineken 0.0 right about now?) and Pitt outsmarting the other teams who don’t have the American Chutzpah to drive it like they stole it. That’s cinema, baby.
“F1” is a supercharged rocket car with all the horsepower at its disposal and very little finesse. There are times throughout the film where you can feel Kosinski getting lost in the sea of brand ambassadors, corporate interests, and a large cast that lacks the emotional cohesion to make the ensemble feel essential. There’s a way to do a movie like this that feels intimate and immediate. This one just feels gargantuan, and it’s a minor miracle it doesn’t go careening off the track to splatter unsuspecting spectators. But even I have to admit to sitting forward in my seat in the final moments of the final race, with all the spectacle laid out onscreen in bombastic splendor. It got me in the end, this silly, ridiculous movie; buzzing past at an ungodly velocity and disappearing down the next turn in the blink of an eye. I won’t be able to tell you a thing about this movie in a week. But whoever said a good thing had to last?
Check out “F1” for as breezy, fun, and inessential a time you could spend at the movies. You won’t leave the theater crying, but you’ll certainly leave it vibrating, with the vague sense that you’ve seen this movie before, and an annoying desire to drink a Heineken 0.0.
See the movie and all, but for the love of god, fight that impulse and drink something local.
You’ll be glad you did.
“F1” is playing at the Prytania Theater Uptown, Prytania Theatres at Canal Place, and The Broad Theater.
