Rush

Rush is one of those sports movies that feels like it was engineered in a lab for maximum adrenaline and character drama, but it actually pulls it off. It’s a dramatization of the real-life rivalry between Formula 1 drivers James Hunt and Niki Lauda during the 1976 season, and unlike a lot of based-on-a-true-story flicks, it’s smart enough to lean into the messier (and frankly, more interesting) personalities of both men. Chris Hemsworth’s James Hunt is charming, reckless, and kind of a trainwreck, while Daniel Brühl’s Lauda is all sharp edges and uncompromising will. The dynamic between them is fascinating — you actually feel the respect and resentment simmering beneath every interaction.

Ron Howard’s direction does a surprisingly good job of making Formula 1 racing cinematic, even if you don’t care a bit about the sport. The way he shoots the races, especially at the Nürburgring, is intense without feeling like cheap action. You get just enough chaos to feel the danger, but the editing never loses you. In a lot of racing movies, every car ends up looking the same, but here, the mix of shots inside the cockpit, close-ups of the drivers’ eyes, and some almost poetic slo-mo moments actually put you into their heads.

Tonally, the movie knows what it wants. It’s not all sweaty-palmed race montages — there’s this almost 70s rock energy throughout, with sex, parties, and ugly egos on full display. But then, it flips the switch hard into real drama. There’s one hospital sequence with Lauda that’s rough, unflinching, and a million miles away from formulaic tearjerking. The pacing is tight — you get the sense there’s no fat because everything is building toward that one, fateful race.

If I have a gripe, it’s that the women in the film feel like they dropped in from a different, less interesting story. Olivia Wilde and Alexandra Maria Lara do what they can, but you can tell they’re mostly there to bat their eyes or worry beautifully in the background. With such layered male leads, it’s a bit of a letdown to see everyone else orbiting them without the same depth.

Cinematography is stylish but not show-offy. There’s a warmth to the color grading that puts you right in the 70s, but it never feels retro in a gimmicky way. Hans Zimmer’s score is exactly what you’d expect: reliably pulse-pounding, big, and just sentimental enough without tripping into cheese.

Ultimately, what makes Rush work is the respect for its audience. It trusts you to keep up, doesn’t dumb down the technical lingo, and actually treats rivalry not as caricature but as a complicated, ever-shifting bond. You walk away feeling like you met two real people, not just a hero and a villain.