an F1 car, who surely had enough on his plate between superhero duties and running a company to not be able to keep a superlicence.
Before that came the Sylvester Stallone vanity project, Driven, which was initially envisaged as an F1 film examining the rivalry between French-Canadian-come-good Jacques Villeneuve and Teutonic genius Schumacher. It was rumoured that after one look at the script, F1 supremo Bernie Ecclestone scotched Stallone’s plans, who hastily transferred the setting to US carts, but kept the characters. When Driven came out, F1 fans could for once rejoice in Ecclestone’s famously tight control over the sport’s branding. One has to go all the way back to 1966 to find a half-decent fictional F1 movie, the unimaginatively titled Grand Prix.
Perhaps another reason these on-screen efforts seem so lacklustre is because the sport itself is so outsized. Despite the vast improvements in driver safety since Senna’s on-track demise in 1994, F1 remains a dangerous sport — just ask Robert Kubica and Felipe Massa — which so many argue is an intrinsic part of its appeal. The cars themselves are marvels of engineering, and F1 has plenty of petty vendettas and longstanding grudge matches for anyone that loves the cut-and-thrust of interpersonal and institutional politics.
Rush, however, succeeds where others have failed in part because it serves to remind us that though F1 has changed, much of it has remained the same. Although 1970s racing cars were very different in appearance from today’s lean machines, and the risk of serious injury or death in an accident was much more real, those who like to hark back to the good ol’ days might discover they weren’t markedly different from today.
Not only does the film treat its leads even-handedly in the face of the no doubt overwhelming temptation to privilege Hunt and his devil-may-care approach to racing over Lauda’s more methodical outlook, it also takes the time to illuminate the more obscure aspects of F1, such as when Hunt’s McLaren is disqualified after a victory for being just a tad too wide. Hunt later calls Lauda, who