Mahdi Ahmed

I revved into F1 (2025) expecting Top Gun: Pit Crew Edition — Brad Pitt, visor down, throttle open, powering through the backstretch of midlife. And sure, that turbo-charged swagger is here. But director Joseph Kosinski doesn’t just run a few hot laps for show — he gives us a full Grand Prix of emotion, grit, and grease. This isn’t just another studio pit stop — it’s a championship-level drama wrapped in racing gear.

Kosinski drives the film like someone who knows every corner of the circuit. Fresh off the Top Gun: Maverick podium, he brings the same aerodynamic precision — but this time, he downshifts when needed. F1 isn’t just spectacle; it breathes. He’s got a mechanic’s eye for detail and a racer’s instinct for timing, crafting scenes that glide, grip, and occasionally gut-punch. Under his direction, F1 becomes more than a race movie — it’s a story of wear, tear, and redemption, told in carbon fiber.

Pitt plays Sonny Hayes, a once-legendary driver pulled back to the grid to coach a rising star — Damson Idris, magnetic and refreshingly grounded. It’s the classic “one last lap” setup, but Pitt doesn’t come in hot. He eases into the role with restraint, playing Sonny like a man still haunted by the corners he missed — both on the track and off. There’s a scene where he watches Idris from the pit wall after a brutal qualifying run — no words, just a look that says, I’ve been there. It’s a quiet pass of the baton. No melodrama. Just respect.

Javier Bardem and Kerry Condon round out the team with precision casting. Bardem, as the seasoned team principal, mixes pit wall wisdom with ruthless edge — a man who can quote philosophy and still gamble on slicks in the rain. His moments with Pitt crackle, like two old engines revving in sync, each carrying scars from different races. Meanwhile, Condon plays the team’s technical director with steely calm. She’s the data whisperer, the emotional barometer, the quiet pulse beneath the roar. Together, they give the film its backbone.

And the racing? Holy downforce. F1 doesn’t rely on green screen trickery — it hugs the tarmac. Real cars, real tracks, real speed. Every turn, overtake, and braking point feels electric. Claudio Miranda’s cinematography is pure art — racing shot like high-velocity ballet. You don’t just see the speed. You feel it press into your chest.

Hans Zimmer doesn’t just score the film — he tunes it. His compositions rise and idle like an engine under pressure, syncing perfectly with the film’s emotional pulse. It’s not peak bombastic Zimmer — it’s restrained and elegant.

What really impresses is how F1 downshifts at the right moments. Between tire screeches and engine roars, it finds its quiet gears. The bond between Pitt and Idris is warm and lived-in — like two drivers who’ve seen different races but respect the same finish line. Their chemistry never fishtails into sentimentality. It stays grounded.

Sure, the plot hugs the underdog racing line a little tightly, and the final stretch may be a touch too clean. But when a film lets you feel every emotional gearshift, every mental chicane — you don’t mind a smooth corner or two.

F1 isn’t just about taking the checkered flag. It’s about staying in the race — battered, aging, but still chasing the ghost of who you once were. Brad Pitt may be burning through the latter laps of his career, but here, he’s running rich — eyes on the apex, soul on the line.

Slam the pedal. This one’s worth the full circuit.

P.S. Pitt and Idris actually drove specially modified Formula 2 cars dressed up to look like F1 monsters. With real telemetry, real rigs, and real speed. So, when you see Pitt dive into a corner at 150 mph, that’s no digital illusion. That’s a man inside a carbon-fiber bullet, grinning like a driver who still lives for the redline.