Nominating this popcorn trifle for best picture is silly, but at least it didn’t get a screenplay nod for a script that’s simply: See Brad Pitt go, go, go. Still, I’ll admit that I recommended this rumbler to everyone who wanted an excuse to speed to the multiplex. (I elbowed my uncle, a hobbyist racer, to go see it a half-dozen times.) Not once in ‘F1’ does it feel like we’re invested in Pitt’s bizarrely constructed character, a throwback fossil with jokey Gen-Z tattoos. The movie is fueled by pure star power and you can’t fault Oscar voters for huffing its fumes.
