Director: Benny Safdie
Writer: Benny Safdie
Stars: Dwayne Johnson, Emily Blunt, Ryan Bader
Synopsis: The story of mixed-martial arts and UFC champion Mark Kerr.
Benny Safdie’s The Smashing Machine is quite literally obsessed with the body of Mark Kerr (Dwayne Johnson), and it’s completely understandable as to why. His hulking figure swallows up the frame whenever the camera tracks him backstage at a fight or in the confines of his Arizona home. He feels trapped within the edges of the cinema screen. But he also has no problem bursting out of it through Johnson’s immersive performance. What’s equally impressive about his figure in this film is just how easily we’re stunned by it. It’s very likely that the gap between public appearances of Johnson with a shirt on versus without one leans tremendously in the favor of the latter. So for Safdie’s solo directorial debut to still effectively capture Johnson’s shirtless body as an unseen spectacle is a marvel. But what exactly is it about The Smashing Machine that captures our attention so easily?
Perhaps the sentiment truly is as simple as us enjoying people operating at their highest possible potential. It’s the same reason the barbaric combat sports highlighted in this film are so popular despite them being a frightening shock to the senses. It really can be as simple as that. But at the same time, there’s an undeniable complexity at play within both the sport and the film. We can’t help but wonder what could compel an individual to put themselves through such agony. One of the most intriguing elements of The Smashing Machine is in this balance between the simplicity and complexity of its answer. The figures at its center, though its primary focus lies with Kerr, are statuesque humans. But they’re also just as fragile and human as anybody else. Maybe they can take many, many more hits than most of us ever could. But the fragility on display is one that’s far more emotional and internally vulnerable than we might come to expect.
From the film’s lo-res introduction, Safdie projects a feeling of otherworldliness onto Kerr and the entire ring he’s ready to dominate. The hits feel staged, the audio is distorted, and we can barely recognize Johnson. It’s only after the ring of the bell that the film cuts to a startlingly clear image of Johnson in Kazu Hiro’s make-up and prosthetics, dripping in sweat. The bloodthirsty look on his face is only replaced after the bell with a nervous worry for his fellow fighter. As we hear Kerr being quoted in an interview saying, “you can feel like a god,” all we see is a man trying to grapple with what he’s just done to another man. It’s in this dichotomy that Johnson’s performance excels. The gentleness that stems from his hulking frame is honestly quite disarming. Another example is Kerr regularly referring to all the things that will make his tummy ache. It’s quite funny as Johnson sells the comedy in this film particularly well. But it also speaks volumes of his soft-spoken demeanor and often adorable nature. He just seems like such a big sweetheart. But that’s not to say this film solely paints him as a perfect specimen without struggles.
This contrast feels like the entire reason as to why the film exists in the first place. In the multitudes of a man that seems so indestructible, it’s compelling to see him actively deny that he might be broken. Whether or not that break is beyond repair is where The Smashing Machine falls into the usual traps we see in films of a similar ilk. At times, the distress depicted amongst Kerr and girlfriend, Dawn (Emily Blunt), can feel incredibly one-note. Always a fan of Blunt, and she is wonderful here, but this film feels like a disservice to her. As The Smashing Machine marches on, it widens its scope to focus on more than just Kerr’s relationship with the world of fighting he inhabits. So there’s really no reason for Dawn’s relationship to it to not be explored further beyond its surface level depiction. In Blunt lies the ability of a performer who can expertly achieve thrilling and devastating nuance, and we are never fully gifted the chance at seeing that, save for one alarming sequence. Yet despite this film’s reliance on such traditional sports biopic elements, it also finds ways to really shine beyond them. Safdie’s human touch and fascination with what makes Kerr operate translates into an inherently compelling story. It also helps that his stellar direction bolsters this film with a sense of borderline-documentarian realism.
Some have criticized The Smashing Machine for it being a bit unstylish while capturing the fights. But this presentation is a feature, not a bug. These fights are captured in a brutal, unflinching manner. The ring, and later the octagon, are inescapable until one fighter dominates the other. The plain nature of Safdie and cinematographer Maceo Bishop’s camera captures these men in a raw, often unflourished form. It strips them of some of their godliness. Safdie is capturing these men while their guards are most lowered. And it’s in moments such as these where the more interesting elements of this otherwise standard sports drama are able to shine brightest. Safdie stages and captures images of these behemoths in situations that are incredibly effective. One handheld tracking shot simply follows Johnson from ringside, into an elevator, through the halls backstage, into his private locker room. It’s simple, but the emotional response elicited from watching this short journey in such an unstyled way works wonders.
It’s even present in the final sequence of this film. Without revealing anything, there’s such an evocative coupling of the two central ideas of The Smashing Machine that it allows the film to elevate itself beyond the strange diversions present in its structure. Safdie stated he wanted to make this film because he was “driven to get inside of Kerr’s head.” For as much as we’re let in through Johnson’s performance, it’s holding us at bay just as much. At the height of Kerr’s substance abuse issues, Johnson utilizes this dead-eyed stare that reveals absolutely nothing. It’s a blankness that is so impressively empty. But when all is said and done, The Smashing Machine provides us so much to ponder, while also leaving much to explore beyond its brisk runtime. How well it works for the individual will likely rely on how willing the viewer is to engage with Safdie’s deeply human touch. And despite falling into many of the usual traps sports dramas often do, if more were like this, it feels like cinemas, and audiences, would be all the better for it.
The Smashing Machine is celebrating its North American premiere in the Special Presentations category of the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival.
