In the opening episode of F1: The Academy, Netflix’s glossy new motorsport docuseries, Susie Wolff sets the tone early-on. “This isn’t a moment,” the managing director of the all-female F1 Academy says with conviction. “It’s a movement.” Wolff repeats the line several times throughout the show, and it’s a sentiment that should feel empowering. But as the episodes unfold, it becomes clear that this mission statement is telling about what lies beneath the aesthetic polish and the big names attached to the production (Reese Witherspoon’s Hello Sunshine is at the helm).

F1: The Academy doesn’t quite know how to tell its own story. It wants viewers to believe that it’s deeply invested in the journey of fan favorite Bianca Bustamante, Mercedes ace Doriane Pin, and the season champion Abbi Pulling, but these athletes often feel like vehicles used to put the sport in front of young women and girls browsing Netflix, who may take an interest in racing as a result of watching the show. Of course, this isn’t a bad thing, but as a result, F1: The Academy misses the opportunity to offer a sharp, illuminating look at what’s actually holding female drivers back.

To be clear, there’s a lot to like here. The series is beautifully shot, emotionally resonant, and offers a platform to young women in racing whose stories otherwise wouldn’t be told. We get compelling, intimate moments – like Pulling’s quietly touching relationship with her father, and the Al Qubaisi sisters navigating injury, on-track struggles, and pressure from a demanding parent. There’s no doubt that these are important stories, and it’s refreshing to see them spotlighted with care.

But F1: The Academy rarely explains itself. From the title alone, one might assume that the series is a direct feeder into Formula 1, especially given that the target demographic is a casual motorsport viewer with limited prior knowledge. We’re constantly told that there are obstacles keeping women from upper echelons of motorsport, but the problems are never clearly articulated to us. Perhaps that’s because female drivers have long struggled to gain visibility, and F1: The Academy is helping solve that issue, which puts us in quite ‘meta’ territory. If you don’t see women racing, how are you supposed to believe you can be one? In that way, the show’s mere existence is a step forward.

Doriane Pin, Abbi Pulling and Maya Weug

Photo by: Clive Mason/Getty Images

But a step forward still requires direction, and at times, the series seems to pull away from its own potential in order to serve a slick narrative. If the aim of the show is simply to put a colorful, glossy billboard for racing in front of prospective fans (and young women who may pursue a career in driving, engineering or mechanics), then I have no doubt its purpose will be achieved. We don’t need a doom and gloom series about how difficult it is to be a woman in a male-dominated field, but that doesn’t mean the show couldn’t have offered viewers proper context.

When Wolff says, “If you can’t cut it in F1 Academy, there won’t be much of a motorsport career left for you,” it lands with a thud. Not because it’s untrue, but because the series hasn’t done the work to help the audience understand what “cutting it” even means. Where does F1 Academy sit on the ladder to F1? How do these drivers stack up against their male counterparts who are also climbing the ranks? What are the pathways beyond the Academy? Without an explanation of that framework, the stakes feel nebulous.

Drivers like Pulling and Pin are framed as the hard-nosed, serious talents. And they are. Watching Pulling train and perform is genuinely thrilling, and Pin’s growth over the season is a testament to what time, funding, and opportunity can do for women in sport. Meanwhile, Lia Block, a newcomer to single seaters, gets a great edit, bolstered by a poignant thread surrounding the legacy of her late father, rally legend Ken Block. American up-and-comer Chloe Chambers is also a joy to watch onscreen, and her story culminates in a satisfying move to the Red Bull program.

Then there’s Bustamante. She’s one of the most magnetic personalities in the series – a natural on camera, popular with fans, and easily the most followed F1 Academy driver online. And yet, the show seems oddly determined to put her in a box. Her storyline revolves around her social media presence, positioning it as a distraction at best, and a liability at worst. There’s a sense that she isn’t being taken as seriously as her peers, even though, in reality, her popularity is doing some of the heaviest lifting in growing visibility for women in motorsport.

It feels especially pointed when Mercedes team principal Toto Wolff states, “This is not an influencer racing series. Only the best must survive.” But the unspoken irony is that every driver, male or female, knows the importance of marketability in modern motorsport and above all, the necessity of financial backing. Several men have found themselves in F1 seats in recent years, predominantly because of the sponsorship money they attract for their teams. The criticism hurled at Bustamante feels outsized given she’s simply playing the game – the only game – available to women who don’t hail from extreme wealth but still need to fund their careers.

Bianca Bustamante

Photo by: Simon Galloway / Motorsport Images

The on-track editing does her no favors either. She was far from the only driver who made mistakes throughout the season, but hers are put under a microscope. And when she ultimately lands a seat in the GB3 Championship for 2025 (alongside Pulling, who received a fully-funded seat as her prize for winning the season) the series fails to connect the dots for the viewer. There’s no mention that Bustamante’s social media earnings played a significant role in securing a drive, even though that context is critical to understanding the realities of driver development in today’s landscape.

Elsewhere, the show shines when it leans into what makes these women – and this series – unique. The camaraderie, the emotional intelligence and the friendships off-track. A scene celebrating Block’s birthday in Singapore is one of the most authentic, joyful moments of the entire season. It’s a reminder that while these women are fierce competitors, they’re also complex, caring individuals who don’t have to mirror their male counterparts to be taken seriously.

F1: The Academy is a well-intentioned and beautifully produced series that succeeds in putting women in motorsport on the global stage. That visibility alone is a powerful win, and it will undoubtedly inspire the next generation to believe that they belong here. But if this is going to be a movement, as Wolff insists, the series needs to trust that the audience can handle the full, complicated truth of what it will take to get a woman to the top.