What’s the difference between “movie stars” and “actors?” We expect an actor to play a wide variety of different roles. Movie stars are expected to play themselves, selling the project with their bankable name, face, and persona. Dwayne Johnson is the definition of a movie star, but, as Patrick H. Willems would put it, he’s also become a brand. Beneath the persona he’s cultivated is a performer with serious chops waiting to be embraced. In The Smashing Machine, we don’t see Johnson the movie star or Johnson the brand. We see Johnson the actor. More importantly, we see Mark Kerr.
Given Johnson’s wrestling background, it makes sense that his best performance would be as an MMA fighter. Johnson and Kerr are two different beasts, however. The physical aspects of wrestling might be real, but there’s a theatrical element to WWE that Johnson fully embraced. This was less the case with the Ultimate Fighting Championship and PRIDE FC, which is where Kerr cemented his legacy. Although many politicians deemed UFC too barbaric, Kerr insists that the fighters don’t hate each other. That doesn’t mean Kerr doesn’t care about winning.
Early in The Smashing Machine, Kerr endures the first professional loss of his career (kind of). Kerr argues that his opponent, Igor Vovchanchyn, used an illegal move. The PRIDE committee agrees, deeming the fight “no contest.” That’s still not a victory. It’s a sign that his glory days are coming to an end. Kerr faces greater challenges outside of the ring as he grapples with painkiller addiction. His girlfriend Dawn Staples (Emily Blunt) tries to connect with Kerr, who doesn’t want her at his fights. They sometimes feel even more distant at home.
This sounds like typical sports biopic stuff, but director Benny Safdie brings a grounded sensibility deprived of glamor. The Smashing Machine is less about victory and more about learning to live with the blows that life deals. At its core is Johnson in a career-best performance. The Safdie brothers have pushed actors like Robert Pattinson and Adam Sandler to depths we didn’t know were there. Benny, flying solo without Josh this time, does the same for Johnson, whose performance goes beyond the transformative makeup effects. Hulking yet soft-spoken, Johnson finds the ideal middle ground between gentle giant and the titular Smashing Machine.
Ryan Bader also turns in strong work as Kerr’s friend/fellow fighter Mark Coleman. Blunt makes the most of her screen time, although she’s never able to break away from the girlfriend archetype. While the film provides a frank look at Kerr’s substance use, Staples’ struggle with alcoholism is mostly omitted. Blunt has one powerful scene, but Staples feels watered down compared to her portrayal in the 2002 documentary, also named The Smashing Machine. That documentary covered the same timeframe as Safdie’s film, which recreates several moments. For those who’ve seen the doc, this biopic might come off as too familiar.
Johnson is the secret weapon here, delivering a performance that might make him an Oscar nominee on the way to becoming POTUS. While Johnson may pick up a few accolades, the film’s theme of accepting failure demonstrates his growth as an actor. Johnson is notoriously protective of his image, always playing invincible characters. It’s even been reported that Johnson contractually can’t lose a fight and can only be hit so many times per film. In The Smashing Machine, Johnson takes the hits and grows from them. In that sense, Johnson turns loss into triumph.