What F1 teaches us about grit, failure, and moving forward

In F1, every turn feels like a gamble, every race a test of nerve. At the heart of it all is Sonny, a racer who doesn't win because he's flawless, but because he refuses to stop. This isn't your typical sports drama about clean victories and trophy lifts. Instead, F1 throws you into the chaos of staying in motion when life spins out of control, showing us that resilience often looks messy, reckless, and utterly human.

Instead of opening with a heart-stopping stunt, the movie hooks you through quiet intensity. We first meet Sonny not in the middle of a race, but in the dim glow of a garage at dawn, his hands wrapping tape around a battered steering wheel. There's no dialogue, just the soft hum of fluorescent lights and the distant echo of engines warming up.

That scene sets the tone that Sonny isn't a showman. He's a man consumed by the grind—worn, obsessive, and laser-focused.

By the time the roar of the track hits, you already know this isn't a story about glory; it's about a driver who has nothing left to prove to anyone but himself.

Unlike glossy racing flicks that celebrate the finish line, F1 is about the grit behind the wheel. Sonny isn't always likeable; he's stubborn, bruised, and often hard to root for.

But that rawness makes him magnetic. The movie doesn't ask you to cheer for a champion; it invites you to watch someone fight for forward motion, no matter the cost.

A realistic character study

What makes F1 stand out is that Sonny isn't romanticised. He's exhausted, his relationships are unstable, and he lacks missions to prove his worth. Most films end on a high note, with a victory or a particular achievement, but these questions remain unanswered. In this case, however, victories don't solve his problems. Yet, that's precisely why the film resonates. Life rarely offers neat resolutions, and Sonny's relentless drive becomes oddly comforting—a reminder that moving forward matters more than reaching perfection.

A different kind of racing film

Other racing films like Rush and Ford v Ferrari celebrated rivalry, teamwork, and innovation. Pixar's Cars preached slowing down and savouring life. F1 does none of that.

Sonny isn't framed as a hero basking in glory. He's a man constantly scanning the next corner, already preparing for the next fight. Victory isn't closure, it's just a pause.

A cinematic style that pulls you in

The film's visuals emphasise immersion over spectacle. The camera lingers on the most minor details: Sonny's breath before a turn, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror, his hands tightening on the wheel. The races feel earned, not exaggerated.

The final lap is breathtaking—not because Sonny wins, but because the moment captures pure focus. He looks weightless, unstoppable, and utterly detached from the celebration around him. It's a high that doesn't last, which makes it feel all the more real.

Lessons from the track

F1 isn't just a racing movie; it's a mirror for life. We all face unexpected turns, terrifying curves, and moments where quitting feels easier than pressing on. Sonny shows us that resilience isn't glamorous. It's gritty. It's imperfect. And it's a choice we make every single day.

The takeaway? Life doesn't pause for us. We either slam the brakes—or we keep driving. And like Sonny, we might find that meaning isn't in winning, but in refusing to stop.