Brad Pitt stars as Sonny Hayes in F1: The Movie 2025. Hayes is a legendary but ageing Formula 1 driver who is reluctantly brought back from semi-retirement by his former rival, Ruben (Javier Bardem).
Ruben’s startup team, Apex GP, is a joke with a brilliant but arrogant young driver, Joshua (Damson Idris), and cars that are more "donated parts" than high-performance machines. The movie traces their almost impossible journey to take on the giants of the track like Ferrari and McLaren, and it’s a very powerful story of the themes of mentorship, passing on the torch, and the pure, raw love of the craft.
Directed by Joseph Kosinski (Top Gun: Maverick) and produced by none other than real F1 champion Lewis Hamilton, this film is a technical marvel. Its 156-minute runtime flies on the fuel of Claudio Miranda’s frenetic cinematography and Hans Zimmer’s churning, sculpted score. You don’t just watch the races; you are jostled in the cockpit, throttling around tight curves at dizzying speeds. It’s a crowd-pleaser in the best sense, earning a roaring reception at the box office, speeding towards the $300 million mark globally in its first 10 days.
Pitt is perfectly cast as the weathered Sonny, a man who drives not for fame or money, but for the peace it brings him. His chemistry with the charismatic Damson Idris smooths over the familiar "grumpy veteran vs. cocky rookie" dynamics. While the film has been compared to Top Gun: Maverick with cars (a fair assessment), it carves its own identity with a surprising, subtle humor. like a corporate board member calling Sonny’s hiring a "Hail Mary," only for Sonny to dryly correct him: "It’s a religious term." It’s a small moment, but one that echoes through the film’s deeper engine.
This is where my review takes a turn off the main track and into the chapel of the soul. At its heart, F1: The Movie is a surprisingly potent parable about grace. Not the kind you say before a meal, but the transformative, unmerited favour that infuses and changes a person from the inside out.
Sonny Hayes is a man marked by a past failure, a fiery crash that should have ended him. He carries this trauma like a hidden wound. In several quiet scenes, we see him pause before getting into his car, his lips moving in silent, earnest words. The film never spells it out, but the suggestion is powerful: this is a man in conversation with a higher power. He is, in a sense, praying. He is not praying to win, but for the strength to do what he loves without being controlled by fear, money, or fame. He is, as the text might say, "allowing grace to work."
This mirrors the core of Christian belief: that we are all, in a way, drivers of a vehicle we can't fully control, scarred by past crashes (sin), and in need of a power beyond ourselves to truly be free. Sonny’s journey isn’t about earning his way back through sheer will. It’s about accepting the gift of a second chance, a grace, and allowing it to transform him and, in turn, his entire team. He doesn’t just teach Joshua how to drive; he models for him how to be: grounded, focused, and driven by a love for the craft itself. This is grace in action, not just forgiving, but infusing and enabling new life.
The film’s standout scene is a masterclass in this theme. During a tense moment, Sonny tells Joshua, "You have to forget the noise. The sponsors, the followers, all of it. It’s just you, the car, and the track. That’s where you find it." He’s talking about racing, but he could just as easily be describing the soul’s journey to God, stripping away the inordinate attachments of ego, wealth, and status to find the still, small voice at the centre. It’s a moment of spiritual direction delivered at 200 miles per hour.
F1: The Movie doesn’t break new narrative ground, but it executes a classic story with heart-pounding excellence. It’s a film that understands spectacle but isn’t afraid of quiet, reflective moments. The subtle Catholic texture, undoubtedly influenced by producer Lewis Hamilton’s own faith (complete with his reported tattoos of the Pietà and a sacred heart), adds a layer of depth that elevates it beyond a simple sports flick.
It leaves us with a question:
In the high-speed race of our own lives, filled with its own crashes and pressures, are we driving for the noise of the world, for fame, money, and external validation, or are we, like Sonny, seeking that ineffable peace that comes only when we surrender control and allow a higher grace to take the wheel?
Perhaps the most meaningful win isn't crossing the finish line first, but remembering why we wanted to drive in the first place.
