One of Hollywood’s biggest stars in a true-life sports movie with big-time awards hopes. It’s going to be a Rocky-like story of comeback glory wrenched from the jaws of defeat, right? Except that’s not at all what Dwayne Johnson and director Benny Safdie have got cooking with this tender but tumultuous addiction and relationship drama set in the gladiatorial world of mixed martial arts (MMA).
Because beyond the regular crunch of fist on bone, The Smashing Machine is an unexpectedly gentle, soulful character study that has Johnson undercutting his crowd-pleasing ‘The Rock’ persona with vulnerability and boyish uncertainty. The early Oscar buzz is certainly warranted: opposite an equally affecting, glammed-up Emily Blunt, it’s far more than just a popcorn-guy-goes-prestige novelty turn. This is his The Wrestler moment.
Covering his shaved dome with a crop of black hair and with subtle facial prosthetics lending him an off-kilter look, an extra beefed-up Johnson plays real-life fighter Mark Kerr over three physically and emotionally bruising years in the late ’90s. We meet striding into the ring, basically a wardrobe on legs, and crushing opponents in short order. A journalist asks him what it would feel like to lose and he’s genuinely stumped. He can’t conceive of defeat partly because he doesn’t want to, a bubble of control he expects girlfriend Dawn Staples (Blunt) to help him maintain.
Except that the world of MMA is evolving at speed, with new rules that limit Kerr’s firepower and bigger, more competitive tournaments like Japan’s Pride Fighting Championships. Prize money is going up and so is the quality of his adversaries. When defeat finally comes, that psychological house of cards crashes down, hastened by a newfound dependent on opioids.
This first solo effort from Benny Safdie – brother Josh’s directorial debut, Marty Supreme, is about the less brutal sport of ping-pong – doesn’t share the hyper-caffeinated energy of their directorial collaborations Uncut Gems and Good Time, although cinematographer Maceo Bishop’s handheld 16mm camerawork pitches offers a ringside seat to some of the most wince-worthy bouts committed to screen. Johnson’s own wrestling experience and the stack of real fighters Safdie has recruited here – look out for Ukrainian boxer Oleksandr Usyk as Kerr’s nemesis Igor Vovchanchyn – keeps the realism levels tuned to ‘savage’, with John Hyams’ 2002 documentary The Smashing Machine: The Life and Times of Extreme Fighter Mark Kerr a visual touchpoint for the docudrama aesthetic. Real-life MMA fighter Ryan Bader is superb as Kerr’s best bud and fellow warrior Mark Coleman.
This is Dwayne Johnson’s The Wrestler moment
For the most part, The Smashing Machine runs at a slower cadence – maybe too slow for some tastes. Safdie’s screenplay is scrupulously avoidant of both addiction and sports movie clichés, which, while refreshing, gives Kerr’s journey from idol to opiate addict to comeback kid a piecemeal quality. Unlike its bison-esque protagonist, it’s almost too lean.
But when Johnson and Blunt are going toe-to-toe in ferocious domestics that let all the toxicity, love and neediness surge out, it’s explosive. One minute, Kerr is literally slapping a door off its hinges; the next, he’s sobbing into his hands, a mess of regret and self-loathing. Inside this smashing machine is a deeply heartsore human – and inside Johnson is a very fine actor indeed.
The Smashing Machine premiered at the Venice Film Festival.