The “Smashing Machine,” directed by Benny Safdie in his solo directorial debut and starring Dwayne Johnson, a.k.a. The Rock, and Emily Blunt, documents the violent life and drug-addled times of former MMA fighter Mark Kerr.
It draws its title from the 2002 HBO documentary of the same name, but takes a distinct anti-documentary approach to tell Kerr’s story by picking up from the peak of his career instead of giving us a narrative from scratch.
The movie begins with a monologue from The Rock, delivered in a much softer, more sombre tone than audiences are accustomed to; it’s a stark contrast to the usual rough, foolhardy lines you’ll hear in a Fast and Furious or Jumanji production.
In fact, the best part of this film is The Rock’s very un-Rock-like performance amid a plot one might expect from him in his aggressive, bland style.
Instead, through snippets of Kerr’s life, we see The Rock liven up natural, domestic moments with his most nuanced performance yet. Despite the impressive work of Oscar-winning prosthetic artist Kazu Hiro to complete The Rock’s insanely buffed-up transformation, Johnson shines through with his subtle mannerisms. Kerr, portrayed to be a gentle giant offscreen — except when he’s on narcotics — is done justice by Johnson.
In scenes with his girlfriend, Dawn Staples (played by Blunt), Johnson’s reactions are controlled and finessed, even while fighting with her, which the couple often does. He employs softening eyes and subtle gestures that I wasn’t sure he still had, given that his most popular work involves him flexing his muscles to break free of a plaster.
Safdie takes quite a bold approach to a sports documentary, going in a diametrically opposite direction to some other big-name sports flicks this year, such as “F1: The Movie.” “The Smashing Machine” seems to be suspended, ironically, in an air of delicateness; each shot chosen with such fragility and care that one questions whether they’re watching a sports movie or a chronicle of everyday life. That is, until the scenes in the pentagonal ring of the UFC.
Belgian experimental jazz musician Nala Sinephro’s woozy, synth-y compositions are a brave choice for the brief fights, helping portray a fuller image of Kerr rather than reducing him to a one-dimensional character. This, too, is a fitting character arc for The Rock, who seems to finally break out of merely playing himself as he did in his rinse-and-repeat past projects.
Unfortunately, this grace in writing and in character is not extended to Blunt’s on-screen persona, who seems to exist purely to start arguments with Kerr. She slowly becomes an unlikeable character, almost torturously haunting the scenes with her flashbacks. Safdie excels with the uncomfortable — as seen in “Uncut Gems” — but Blunt’s overbearing, hedonistic character borders on annoying rather than unsettling. She attempts to portray Staples and her unstable nature throughout the film, but her character’s flaws lie in the script, not her performance.
Where Staples falls short, the supporting cast shines in stellar performances. Ryan Bader and Bas Rutten, big names within the MMA world, deliver crucial performances as trainers to Johnson’s character — performances that the film would not be complete without.
As a non-MMA watcher with only basic knowledge of the sport, I was unable to fully appreciate the significance of Rutten and Bader’s roles, in addition to the appearances of fighters Oleksandr Usyk and Stoshi Ishii, without doing some research after watching the movie. Still, it’s difficult to grasp the importance of these performances and the actors’ contributions to UFC, since the film does a lackluster job of focusing on the actual MMA aspect of the story.
Safdie’s shortfall also lies in his attempt to merge A24’s arthouse with a classic sports picture. The VHS camera and 16/70mm shots of Tokyo in the 2000s give the film a superior elegance and panache that the sports genre is not used to. But these shots neglect the gory, bloody aspects of the movie that also deserve their fair time, given Johnson’s impressive representation of Kerr at the peak of his career.
This is all surprising considering Safdie is not one to shy away from the coarser parts of filmmaking. The film veers toward a fever dream rather than a sharp K.O. in the interactions between Blunt and Johnson, whose relationship seems to come before MMA.
Mark Kerr is a pioneer in the MMA world, with a personal life riddled with hardships. His story is commendable, and at the back of my mind, I’m kept waiting for a moment in the film that recognises all he’s been through. That moment never arrives, and I would gladly trade off scenes with Staples to get it. Instead, the appreciation for Kerr’s life is put on the back burner, and the film feels hollow.
In the last scene, where Kerr is at a grocery store, it feels like a convoluted attempt to imbue an “everyday” quality to Kerr’s MMA story, as though his UFC days were not defining parts of his life but instead a fun side story to tell to his grandchildren.
This does not detract from the poignant performance Johnson delivers, the beautiful cinematography and the impressive attempt by Safdie to unconventionally tackle the daunting, formulaic “Great Sports Movie.”
For all those who have had to digest recent lacklustre performances by The Rock while knowing that he can act, this is a breath of fresh air, considering the next projects he’s been linked to are a Scorsese film and another flick with Safdie. Are we on the verge of a generational run by The Rock? After watching “The Smashing Machine,” I’m inclined to say yes.
Lavanya Aditi Puri CM ’29 spent the midterms and fall break watching films. Her top three The Rock performances are “Pain & Gain,” “Ballers” (TV) and “Moana.”
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