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"F1" is a thrill ride of a film that centers on Formula 1 racing. But it's also, um, formulaic.

Sonny Hayes (Brad Pitt) is a talented former F1 driver who never made it to the top. He's recruited by Reuben (Javier Bardem), a former racing rival who now manages the hapless APXGP team on the F1 circuit. Sonny is brought in to mentor Joshua (Damson Idris), the company's talented rookie driver, teach him valuable life lessons and demonstrate that a driver should race for the love of the sport, not the fame and acclaim that accompany success at this level.

Co-Writer/Director Joseph Kosinski, who directed "Top Gun: Maverick," has involved many members of that team on his current film. Co-Writer Ehren Kruger is back. Composer Hans Zimmer delivers another propulsive score that perfectly fits the action taking place. Cinematographer Claudio Miranda has substantially improved on the already-excellent cinematic techniques he employed in "Top Gun." Editor Stephen Mirrione, who was not involved in the previous project, also deserves mention for contributing to a story that starts out fast, then accelerates.

The technical aspects of this film are simply amazing. F1 champion Lewis Hamilton signed on as a producer for the film. Because of his involvement, many current F1 drivers - Oscar Piastri, Lando Norris and others - along with Toto Wolff (principal of Mercedes' F1 racing team) participated in the film and served as technical advisors. Many current F1 drivers took part in the racing sequences.

Director Kosinski outfitted six F2 race cars with cameras, recorders and transmitters. During the racing scenes, Pitt and Idris drove on actual F1 racetracks (the scenes were shot during Grand Prix weekends throughout 2023 and 2024). During the racing scenes, Cinematographer Miranda sat at a monitor with sixteen screens, directing the camera operators and selecting shots. Most of the cameras were on motorized mounts, allowing the cameras to be readjusted to track the action in close-up. As a result of this technical expertise, "F1" is realistic and exhilarating.

In addition to its substantial strengths, this film has major flaws. Calling the story formulaic is actually charitable. The gruff veteran who has problems with authority (and secretly has a heart of gold)? Check. A gifted, self-absorbed younger man whose hubris exceeds his talent and who needs to learn the value of teamwork? Yep. Setbacks caused by unsavory outside forces? Sure. A period of self-doubt before ... You get the idea. You can see it all coming from wayyyyy down the track.

Then there's casting Pitt as a Formula 1 driver. Pitt was 60 during much of the filming. The retirement age for the average F1 driver is 37. Although Pitt is as charismatic and charming as ever, the stereotype of the worldly-wise, wily veteran that worked for Tom Cruise as a pilot in "Top Gun" doesn't seem nearly as plausible here. For me, there was a melancholy element to all this. Pitt, at times, seems to be literally straining to reassert his relevance in a Hollywood often prone to move on without sentimentality to the newer, younger next big thing.

It's easy and appropriate to recommend "F1" as flashy, sleek, adrenaline-pumping entertainment. It's a fun afternoon at the movies. You have to look quite closely to see the wrinkles.

Writer/Director Celine Song first got my attention with 2023's "Past Lives," a beautifully crafted film that received an Oscar nomination for Best Picture. "Materialists" offers a similar level of thoughtful dialogue, wry humor and insight into the human condition.

Lucy (Dakota Johnson) is a NYC matchmaker. While attending the wedding of one of her clients, Lucy meets Harry (Pedro Pascal), a six-foot, handsome private equity investor who checks nearly all of her boxes. But wait! John (Chris Evans), her struggling-actor ex, is working as a server at the same event. John offers perfect hair, attentiveness and a total devotion to Lucy. (Did I mention the hair?) Obviously, the lady has some choices to make. Lucy moves in with Harry, but she turns to John during her times of greatest vulnerability.

Song's script is uneven, but still inspired. Fortunately, the story never threatens to spend much time in typical rom-com territory. In fact, Song seems to enjoy playing with several rom-com tropes. There are the obligatory scenes of ordinary people expressing their romantic expectations. But instead of a speed-dating setting, these are clients being interviewed by Lucy, who occasionally offers some clear-eyed feedback. After one client has presented Lucy with her multi-page, typed list of bullet points that describe her modest expectations for a suitable spouse, Lucy responds: "All I can hope to find for you is a man who can tolerate you for the next fifty years, who likes you at all." There also are multiple references to men having surgery on their legs to become up to six inches taller.

As the film's name foreshadows, Song is clear that, for many, marriage is as much a business decision as it is a choice inspired by true love. But even this mercenary spirit is tempered by a sense of humanity. At one point, Lucy confesses that she likes Harry "because you make me feel valuable," offering a charming shift in perspective on the nature of their transactional relationship.

There are a few imperfections. The film includes a major digression into the travails of Lucy's client Sophie (Zoe Winters). Although there's an ultimate payoff to this subplot, several of the related scenes slow the film's momentum. Finally, there's Lucy/Dakota Johnson. Although the script requires her character to be emotionally detached, I spent the film trying to figure out whether Johnson was compellingly in-character or just an actor with a limited emotional range. (Anyone who is even vaguely aware of the "50 Shades" franchise should be permitted similar misgivings.)

Because Song is willing to take risks and clearly has something to say, I was rooting for "Materialists." As the film progressed, I wondered how she would eventually land the plane. From my perspective, Song comes in for a smooth, satisfying landing.

To understand "Friendship," you need to know a little about Tim Robinson's body of work. Viewers have a love/hate relationship with his current Netflix series, "I Think You Should Leave." Fans see him as a comic genius who has stretched the boundaries of "cringe comedy." Other viewers find Robinson's unhinged, self-indulgent characters insufferable. I'm in the second group.

"Cringe comedy" centers on a socially awkward character whose lack of self-awareness gets the person into increasingly embarrassing situations. Early examples of this comedic form include "The Colbert Report," "The Office" and "Da Ali G Show." "Curb Your Enthusiasm" and shows like "The Studio" have further honed the art form. For me, what differentiates these other shows from Robinson's work is that they include redemptive elements, an identifiable humanity, in the protagonist. In "The Studio," Seth Rogan is the new CEO of a film studio and also a bottomless pit of need. But he has flashes of self-awareness and generally understands when he's really stepped in it (although usually after the fact). Rogan has a priceless scene where he literally begs Zoe Kravitz to mention him in her acceptance speech at the Golden Globes because his mother will be watching and he's desperate for her approval of his career choice. It's the consummate example of a cringe situation leavened with enough humanity to be interesting, comedic and dramatic.

"Friendship" offers none of this balance. In the character of Craig Waterman, Robinson clearly intended to portray a character who has no appealing features to offset his essential jerkiness. Mission accomplished. The problem, though, is that Craig's persistently unlikable nature totally undermines the basic elements of an already-thin plot. For example, why would a smart, attractive woman like his wife Tami (played by a long-suffering Kate Mara) be with this idiot? The extreme nature of Robinson's character forces the entire film to become a tenuous chain of comedy bits, not a well-crafted storyline that merits discussion. There's no character development, no forward momentum and no epiphanies. All the characters remain unchanged from the beginning of the film until its merciful conclusion. "Friendship" is just Robinson being a self-absorbed narcissist in a variety of settings - ostracized at the office (where his job is to make people addicted to the products he's hired to market), "bonding" with a new male friend (Paul Rudd) during garage get-togethers or occasionally interacting with his family, which includes a son who dotes on his mom while simply ignoring Craig. Because Craig is so lacking in self-awareness, his jokes don't land, he never fits in and he limps through life riding an ever-increasing wave of self-delusion as things escalate out of control.

Wandering around in this hot mess is the message that men are sometimes sad, often lonely and frequently isolated. But the plot here doesn't have enough heft to actually develop that thought.

"Friendship," and Robinson, clearly have a devoted following. During the screening I attended, there were audible chuckles and outright laughter from several of the other moviegoers. I spent the next two hours wondering why.