The Smashing Machine, 2025.
Written and directed by Benny Safdie.
Starring Dwayne Johnson, Emily Blunt, Lyndsey Gavin, Ryan Bader, Zoe Kosovic, Bas Rutten, Oleksandr Usyk, Paul Lazenby, James Moontasri, Yoko Hamamura, Paul Cheng, Andre Tricoteux, Satoshi Ishii, Roberto “Cyborg” Abreu, and Mark Kerr.
SYNOPSIS:
The story of legendary mixed martial arts and UFC fighter Mark Kerr.
Chronicling a tumultuous three-year period of Mark Kerr’s life, The Smashing Machine is not only a strange filmmaking pivot from writer/director Benny Safdie but also unlike anything one would expect from a film about mixed martial arts. With promotions such as UFC and Pride garnering a reputation for barbaric violence in the late 1990s, Benny doesn’t shy away from that brutality, but is also more concerned with presenting this as a mellow, almost dreamlike character study with a score from Nala Sinephro that has more in common with soothing melodies in The Legend of Zelda video games rather than the heavy metal ties to such an extreme sport.
By extension, that also means it’s clear which of the brothers (Benny and Josh have gone their separate ways to pursue different passion projects, with the latter also releasing a film backed by A24 later this year) is less concerned with ticking time clock manic energy. Again, The Smashing Machine is a refreshingly laid-back film (although sometimes to the fault of flatness, namely in the fight sequences themselves) for the sub-genre, but it is also not one free from the most exhausted clichés, even if a subversive approach to filmmaking is wrapped up in a character study.
That study hinges on the performance of Dwayne Johnson, who is simultaneously perfect for this role yet all wrong for it. It’s a psychological clash almost as great as the one playing out in Mark Kerr’s mind. From an acting and physicality standpoint, Dwayne Johnson is nothing short of tremendous in the role; yet, he falls short in the all-important transformative aspect when portraying a real person in a biopic. Whether he resembles Mark Kerr or not is irrelevant (it should never be relevant whether a Hollywood star resembles their historical counterparts). No, the problem lies in the fact that for nearly two-thirds of the running time, it’s a struggle to perceive Dwayne Johnson as Mark, rather than a reflection of himself. Despite the strong performance, the film fails to capture the illusion that this is Mark Kerr.
There is a saving grace in that this is a character study about insecurities, which, based on recent festival interviews promoting the film, Dwayne Johnson shares. The Smashing Machine is less about winning and losing and more about learning how to accept that even undefeated fighters eventually lose, and how not to let that entirely unravel someone’s self-worth when such a thing already feels predicated on their success in the ring or octagon. It’s a tale of a fall from grace, as Mark is unable even to answer the hypothetical question of what his reaction would be to suffering a loss.
The answer to that question is, unfortunately, loads of sports clichés. Mark, who had already been slipping into partying and substance abuse from his brash fighting confidence, further spirals into addiction. His already rocky relationship with Emily Blunt’s Dawn Staples faces numerous ups and downs (for both of them) that it could have been the foundation for a complete film. Instead, it comes across as underwritten with Dawn, at one point explaining to Mark that he doesn’t really know anything about her. Neither do we, other than things were better when he was on drugs, since he was more dependent on her, which, apparently, is what her self-worth is tied to. Barring Mark’s violent mood swings (thankfully, not toward her, but doors and other home damage), their relationship heads to dark places that certainly aren’t earned in the narrative.
Away from that, the film follows Mark’s journey through a Pride tournament where the winner will receive a life-changing amount of cash. Also participating in the tournament is his best friend, Mark Coleman (played by Ryan Bader, an actual mixed martial artist who feels authentic and ingrained in that world, rather than delivering a performance), whose personal life is the happy inverse. It’s also intriguing that Mark Kerr has an easier time cheering on his friend’s achievements than, say, expressing sincere gratitude for Dawn or joy that she can hang out with friends without becoming addicted to certain pills. She accuses him of being jealous when, in reality, it feels like a severe trigger and something he has reason to be upset about, and he phones his sponsor over. There is definitely something to say about the thorny connections between masculinity, fragility, and self-worth, but this is a contemptuous relationship where one actively roots for them to break up.
The most disappointing blow might be that the film has nothing to say about mixed martial arts or UFC despite an early compelling conversation playing up the barbarism of the sport and efforts to get it banned (there are even some blacklisted moves that hinder Mark in a fight), settling on the conclusion that these fighters make millions now for dealing out significant irreparable damage to one another. Sure, that’s good for them. It’s also the most bizarre landing spot for The Smashing Machine, given everything that has been witnessed prior.
As a film about overcoming insecurities, The Smashing Machine works on both a narrative and a meta level, with Dwayne Johnson on the same thematic wavelength.
Flickering Myth Rating – Film: ★ ★ ★ / Movie: ★ ★ ★
Robert Kojder
