In Benny Safdie’s The Smashing Machine, the MMA drama that earned him the Silver Lion Award at Venice, trailblazing, undefeated combatant Mark Kerr simply can’t conceive of losing. When asked by a Japanese interviewer about that possibility, he literally can’t come up with the words. You can tell that he’s trying, but Kerr might be the one case where the word “lose” really isn’t in his vocabulary. That makes it all the more compelling when he finally does take an “L”, and ends up in a deathmatch against his own personal demons.
The Smashing Machine has been earning raves, not just for Safdie in his solo directing debut, but also for star Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson. It is easily the best performance of Johnson’s career, and while some will try to dismiss it because he’s a former pro wrestler playing a fighter, his transformation goes beyond the physical bulk and the facial prosthetics. Gone is Johnson’s bombastic nature, outsized personality, and booming voice. In its place is a gentler affectation, a different cadence in his speech, and a kind-hearted sensitivity that he’s never had a chance to show. Johnson doesn’t need an Oscar nomination for his performance to be a success, although he still might get one.
The film is based on the excellent 2002 documentary of the same name, in which Kerr confronts his personal demons, drug and alcohol abuse, and domestic drama. Emily Blunt plays his girlfriend, Dawn, who has her own share of problems, not the least of which is mental instability, which makes concentrating on matches even harder. Both Mark and Dawn are emotionally stunted people. In his case, the film raises the question if his dedication to physical dominance has warped his emotional growth. When Mark talks about winning, he sounds like a kid who just scored a touchdown in Pee Wee Football. That immaturity stretches to other parts of his life, too, such as his preparedness for losing his first fight. He ain’t ready, and not even his pal, fellow UFC fighter Mark Coleman (played by real fighter Ryan Bader), can help.
Set from 1997 to 2000, The Smashing Machine covers just a small but pivotal period in Kerr’s life and career. UFC was known as PRIDE at the time, and the fights were largely held in Japan. And if you think Johnson looks jacked (he looks bigger than he ever has), normally, he looks like a kaiju stomping through Tokyo here. Similar to Sydney Sweeney’s Christy biopic about boxer Christy Martin, The Smashing Machine is unconventional in that success for Kerr isn’t just measured in the winning of titles. It’s about learning to pick oneself up after defeat, and surviving the punches life throws and will never stop throwing.
Safdie’s screenplay smartly observes the complexities of a relationship when only one has gone through rehab. Mark, free of the drugs and alcohol that dulled his constant pain, turns into an obsessive jerk, even chastising Dawn for not pruning a cactus the way he wants it. Before that, he was just a teddy bear, her “big strong man.” She’s not much better. Her need to be the center of attention at all times, along with her own substance abuse issues, threatens to derail a big-money fight that could change both of their lives. There’s also the matter of Mark’s friendship with Coleman. You think it’s going to be a toxic dude bro movie but there’s actually quite a lot of vulnerability shown between these two mountainous men. Johnson, shedding so many tears you’d think someone had forced him to rewatch Southland Tales, has multiple scenes where he appears weighed down by despair, and others where he’s the happiest guy with a broken nose and cauliflower ears that has ever lived. Mark Kerr was the role Johnson was meant to play, and I’m not sure anyone else could have.
A24 opens The Smashing Machine in theaters on October 3rd.
*NOTE: This review was originally part of our TIFF 50 Coverage.*
