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F1: The Movie (2025) Review – Brad Pitt Powers a Visually Thrilling but Familiar Formula

We review and break down F1: The Movie’s blistering IMAX race scenes, Brad Pitt’s charismatic veteran-driver comeback, and whether Joseph Kosinski’s slick direction lifts the story above sports-movie déjà vu.

June 29, 2025

F1: The Movie (2025) Review – Brad Pitt Powers a Visually Thrilling but Familiar Formula

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F1: The Movie (2025) Review – Brad Pitt Powers a Visually Thrilling but Familiar Formula

“Green flag, lights out!” – F1: The Movie roars onto the big screen

Joseph Kosinski’s F1: The Movie arrives amid deafening hype: a Brad Pitt comeback vehicle, an Apple Studios price tag rumored to eclipse half-a-billion dollars, and unprecedented cooperation from Formula 1 itself. Shot with custom IMAX rigs during real Grands Prix weekends, the picture is—without exaggeration—the most tactile recreation of open-wheel velocity ever projected.

But is dazzling precision enough to secure a spot on the podium of great racing dramas, or does this sleek machine find itself boxed in behind familiar genre traffic? After two laps through a premium-large-format theater, I’d place F1 squarely in the midfield: a turbocharged sensory rush whose story lifts only briefly into clean air.

The production engine behind the roar

Before tightening the HANS device, it helps to know who is actually steering. At the helm is director Joseph Kosinski, a filmmaker who turned Top Gun: Maverick into a billion-dollar argument for old-school spectacle. Screenwriters Ehren Kruger and Eric Warren Singer supply the mechanical blueprint, while cinematographer Claudio Miranda outfits every car with tiny 6K cameras that survive 180 mph lateral forces. The ensemble is crowned by Brad Pitt’s Sonny Hayes, a man who once shared podiums with racing legend Ayrton Senna, and counter-balanced by rising star Damson Idris as rookie Joshua Pearce. Javier Bardem injects bombastic charm as team owner Ruben Cervantes, and Kerry Condon brings steely intelligence to technical director Kate McKenna.

Clocking in at 155 minutes and rated PG-13 for intense action and salty pit-lane banter, the movie leans into IMAX’s cavernous roar. Those seeking cast lists, synopses, and interactive quizzes should pull into the dedicated page at What’s After the Movie, where we provides quick launch-pads to movie hubs like Metacritic, Rotten Tomatoes, IMDb, TMDB, Letterboxd, JustWatch, Box Office Mojo, and of course the ever-helpful Wikipedia overview.

A chassis built from time-honored parts

The narrative revs up at Daytona, where washed-up American ace Sonny Hayes still chases 2 a.m. stints in sports-car enduros. One spectacular night-race montage later, Sonny is lured back to Formula 1 by Ruben Cervantes, whose last-place Apex GP squad hasn’t scored a single championship point. The proposition is simple: nine remaining races to turn the team—and arrogant protégé Joshua Pearce—into a miracle headline, or Ruben’s investors will sell the operation for scrap.

From here, F1 follows the slipstream of predecessors such as Grand Prix and Days of Thunder. There is friction between mentor and hotshot, a mid-season nadir sparked by an ill-timed collision, and the inevitable rally that carries both drivers toward a climactic showdown under the floodlights of Abu Dhabi. The screenplay seldom deviates from that racing line, preferring the comfort of check-box emotional beats to the messy realities that make the sport ruthlessly fascinating. Crashes sting yet rarely scar; corporate meddling threatens but never truly corrodes. Everything glints as brilliantly as freshly polished carbon fiber.

Brad Pitt’s weathered star power

Kosinski frames Pitt as if capturing a lost Robert Redford still shot—slow-motion struts through pit lanes, aviators flashing, denim shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal bohemian necklaces. That hyper-curated iconography would border on vanity if not for the actor’s willingness to let age show in the stiffness of Sonny’s gait and the micro-grimaces that ripple across his face while squeezing into the monocoque.

Idris, meanwhile, begins with the unenviable task of embodying every stereotype about Gen Z athletes obsessed with metrics and brand partnerships. Over two hours, he finds credible shading: insecurities about online hate, genuine fear of crashing at 330 kph, and a dawning respect for Sonny’s wizened race craft. Their rapport never quite detonates into the crackling duality of Cruise and Miles Teller in Maverick, yet it holds the film together through slower straights.

Race craft captured on the ragged edge

Visually, F1 qualifies on pole. Miranda’s micro-cameras ride along the suspension wishbones, halo bars, and even the cockpit bulkhead, sustaining razor-sharp 6K footage while tires scrub through 4-g corners. Kosinski layers visor reflections, drone fly-bys, and frenetic split-screens that homage Grand Prix without feeling derivative. The sensation of speed is relentless: downshifts punch the chest cavity; Pirelli rubber screeches loud enough to register as smell.

Hans Zimmer’s score welds cavernous bass to metallic synth drones, punctuated by needle-drops from Ed Sheeran, Doja Cat, Tate McRae, and Rosé. The pop cues are undeniably propulsive, if also a timestamp that may date the film faster than a qualifying lap record.

Authentic grit vs. glossy spectacle

Long-time F1 faithful will clock the film’s looseness with reality. The season appears to begin at Daytona in January, then hopscotch Europe and North America in an order that would bankrupt even Red Bull’s logistics department. Sonny activates DRS while leading—a violation under current regulations—and somehow acquires a super-licence without FIA scrutiny. These liberties are glaring, yet Kosinski’s unprecedented access—real paddock garages, cameos from Lewis Hamilton and Fernando Alonso—imbue enough authenticity to make most quibbles evaporate in the afterburn. Casual viewers will feel immersed; devotees will wince, then grin at the visceral roar echoing through Dolby Atmos.

A corporate halo glinting in every corner

For all Sonny’s sermonizing that “social media is just noise,” the film is itself an immaculate brand showcase. Trackside hoardings flash fintech logos, pit-wall monitors glow with sponsor telemetry, and freshly painted hospitality suites fill the background of nearly every shot. The lone antagonist—an impatient private-equity shark—is painted as the soulless exception, even as real-world Formula 1 thrives on similar capital infusions. That tension is never interrogated; instead, it functions as the movie’s sly meta-joke. F1 condemns the noise while cranking the marketing megaphone to eleven—and somehow pulls off the contradiction with a wink.

Putting F1 on the all-time grid

Measured purely in visceral thrills, Kosinski’s film stakes a credible claim beside Ron Howard’s Rush (2013) and James Mangold’s Ford v Ferrari (2019). Its cockpit POV shots surpass both predecessors in sheer g-force immersion, while the drama lands closer to middle-tier comfort food—emotionally satisfying but rarely transcendent. Compared with Grand Prix, it is safer; compared with Driven, infinitely more polished; and when placed next to the mythic poetry of Le Mans, it feels like a calculated, twenty-first-century crowd-pleaser eager to avoid existential despair.

That blend—part soaring IMAX ride, part brand-managed feel-good saga—may prevent F1 from joining the canonical pantheon, but it positions the movie as a reference-quality thrill ride that future racing films will have to beat on technical grounds.

Verdict: a high-octane crowd-pleaser that plays it safe

Rating: ★★★☆ (3.5 / 5)

F1: The Movie is the cinema equivalent of nailing a perfect overtake into Eau Rouge: the heart rate spikes, the grip is undeniable, and for a few electrifying seconds you forget to breathe. Viewed through a critical visor, however, the script downshifts too early, preferring comforting arcs and spotless heroics to the messy, risk-laden reality of top-tier motorsport. See it on the biggest screen you can find; when the credits roll, the memory of those audio cues and camera angles will linger longer than the film’s philosophical musings.


Keep the adrenaline flowing

If this review left you craving deeper data dives, in-depth breakdowns, or a chance to test your reaction time in our quiz, shift over to the What’s After the Movie blog. Our dedicated F1: The Movie page bundles box-office updates, critic-score trackers, behind-the-scenes trivia, and curated links to outside resources—all without requiring a pit-lane pass.

Until the next set of lights goes out, I’ll see you in the slipstream.


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