The Smashing Machine is a step up for Johnson following a string of recent misfires, and I sincerely hope he continues to branch out. But it’s also a step back for Benny Safdie, whose usual grit feels all but washed away here.
Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson has stated that he took on Benny Safdie’s The Smashing Machine as a way to break free from a pigeon-holed blockbuster status. It’s an understandable ambition that’s hard not to empathise with. It’s just a pity that his chosen vehicle for branching out feels too mundane and too detached to achieve the desired results.
Based on the 2002 documentary of the same name, The Smashing Machine is a sports biopic that depicts the career of pro-wrestler and MMA fighter Mark Kerr (Johnson). Spanning the years 1997 to 2000, Kerr is at the height of his career. Undefeated in a fight, basking in wealth and maintaining a consistent, if not always happy, relationship with his partner Dawn (Emily Blunt), Kerr is on top of the world. A veteran of the controversial UFC (Ultimate Fighting Championship), an all-bets-are-off combat sport, Kerr frequently takes opioids to stay in shape and fight through the inevitable pain his matches bring.
Yet this reliance becomes an addiction, fuelling Kerr’s ego and insecurities. When the unthinkable happens and Kerr finally loses a fight, his world begins to unravel. Forced to face his anxieties head-on, Kerr struggles to claw his way back to the top. It’s a fight not just of the body, but of the mind as well.
The Smashing Machine takes a page from the book of Scorsese’s Raging Bull by exploring one’s character, the use of a physically demanding sport underscoring the fragilities and faults of the protagonist, despite their imposing figures. Kerr, as depicted in this film, is certainly more pleasant than Jake LaMotta, but he still suffers from a toxic belief in victory at all costs. In one interview, Kerr can’t even imagine losing a fight when the concept is pitched to him. His narrative and thematic spiralling is born from the shattering of Kerr’s beliefs. Those foundations lay the groundwork for a compelling character arc.
Sadly, the film seems unwilling to go the same distance as Kerr, keeping itself at a distance from the themes and characters’ emotions. Where other sports films, from Rocky to The Iron Claw, get up close and personal with the characters, essentially getting in the ring with them, Safdie and team unwisely maintain a degree of separation. Long shots and handheld cameras are frequently incorporated, creating the impression of an impassive observer, even as the most brutal punches are being thrown. The use of film grain in the cinematography creates the appearance of living through a memory, rather than upping the grittiness of the spectacle. Meanwhile, the musical score feels too playful and not nearly as sombre as the plot calls for.
Aside from one alluring tracking shot following Kerr’s loss, we rarely feel in his shoes. This is quite the shift from Safdie’s previous film, Uncut Gems, co-directed with his brother, in which the camera remained, with great effect, voyeuristically close to the self-destructive antics of Adam Sandler’s anti-hero character. Just as Kerr struggles to open up, the film seems uncharacteristically timid about delving into the deeper layers of its material.
Not helping the film’s case is how relatively bland the characters surrounding Kerr are. Kerr maintains a close friendship with fellow fighter Mark Coleman (played by Ryan Bader), and their bromance is one of the strongest elements of the film, with Johnson and Bader having a charismatic rapport with each other. However, Coleman’s role as a foil to Kerr is underexplored, with Coleman being too flawless to serve as anything other than a stepping stone for Kerr’s character growth.
In contrast, Blunt’s Dawn seems to be made of nothing but flaws. Her feelings of being excluded are relatable, as Kerr’s tunnel-visioned dreams of glory cause him to view Dawn as mere arm candy. However, she seems to fluctuate between being a supportive partner and having an unstable emotional range, similar to Kerr. Johnson and Blunt previously co-starred in 2021’s Jungle Cruise, but their past chemistry has been traded in for repetitive arguments that lack weight or individuality.
Even Kerr could’ve done with being grittier. Likeable characters do not always equate to engaging characters, and much of Kerr’s complexity is undermined by scenes of him smiling for the cameras and acting pally with the public, when someone of his victory-or-nothing mindset would be much more closed. His more temperamental moments emerge in short bursts rather than lingering in the air. This includes one scene where, after Dawn says he’s bitter about losing, Kerr destroys a very styrofoam-looking door in their house. It makes for a character who has plenty of depth, yet remains one-note for far too much of the picture, leaving us with a muddy rather than clear understanding of his inner torment.
Ignoring the irony that Johnson, an ex-pro-wrestler, decided to branch out by playing another wrestler, Johnson does tap into at least some of these depths. While his crying scenes leave something to be desired, Johnson manages to convey a great deal with his eyes and posture, showcasing a man who is hiding so much more than physical pain in his most silent moments. Benefitting from the on-paper intricacies of the role, it’s a much more mature role from Johnson, and he shows a willingness to step up to the challenge. That being said, it’s nothing especially mind-blowing either. Certainly not on par with De Niro in Raging Bull or Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler, both of whom viscerally tapped into the vulnerabilities of their characters and how it fuelled their demons.
By contrast, Johnson’s larger-than-life celebrity persona occasionally infiltrates the role of Kerr, making the less conflict-laden moments of the picture feel like just another Johnson performance rather than a unique, captivating character. Oscar-bait may be a cynical term, but it unfortunately feels at least partially applicable here.
The Smashing Machine is a step up for Johnson following a string of recent misfires, and I sincerely hope he continues to branch out. But it’s also a step back for Benny Safdie, whose usual grit feels all but washed away here. Despite the potential of its chosen themes and characters, the film is simply too emotionally distant and too sanitised in craft to glean anything beyond mild curiosity. If the universe is good to us, then Johnson’s next dramatic role will hopefully take more swings and thus land a few more haymakers.
The Smashing Machine is now showing in cinemas nationwide.
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