The Smashing Machine

Director: Benny Safdie
Starring: Dwayne Johnson, Emily Blunt, Ryan Bader, Bas Rutten, Oleksandr Usyk, Olga Dzyurak, Lyndsey Gavin, Satoshi Ishii, James Moontasri, Yoko Hamamura, Stephen Quadros, Whitney Moore
Running Time: 123 min.
Rating: R

★★★ (out of ★★★★)    

It seems odd that the biggest question going into The Smashing Machine was whether Dwayne Johnson could capably play the role of former amateur wrestler turned MMA fighter Mark Kerr. But that we still  ask given the actor's history on the mat speaks to just how far removed he's been since becoming a major movie star. It's less whether he can do it than if audiences would bite after an endless string of action vehicles had us thinking he gave up being taken seriously as a dramatic actor. Johnson came out of the gate with such undeniable charisma and early promise we knew he'd eventually jump into more challenging roles in different genres. It's only when the big paydays came and his movies kept dominating the box office that he resisted straying from his familiar formula. 

Now after stumbling with Black Adam and the PR mess that followed, Johnson's asking fans to accept this sudden shift that can best be called a calculated gamble. But while that and a depressing subject matter are potential reasons for why audiences stayed away, it isn't a reflection of the film's quality. Everything that can go right does, even as writer/director Benny Safdie crafts a somewhat familiar sports underdog story laced with tragedy. Unfolding with almost documentary-like truthfulness, how it's told and Johnson's performance help lift it, making for an emotionally raw character study.  

It's 1999 and we see grainy, VHS fight footage of UFC competitor Mark Kerr (Johnson), being interviewed about his impressive winning streak as he heads to Japan for his next fight, accompanied by trainer, best friend and fellow competitor Mark Coleman (Ryan Bader). But it's Kerr's volatile relationship with girlfriend Dawn Staples (Emily Blunt) that causes problems, especially as he becomes increasingly dependent on drugs, injecting opioids around the clock to numb the pain and continue fighting. 

Between arguing with Japanese officials about his pay and getting into locker room screaming matches with Dawn, a glassy eyed Kerr reaches the end of his rope after a devastating loss sends him home and eventually to rehab following an overdose. While he diligently commits to staying clean, rehab and recovery is a change Dawn can't deal with, especially once he begins training for his comeback under the tutelage of MMA legend Bas Rutten (playing himself). With one last shot at redemption, Kerr attempts to maintain his sobriety and career, as he and Dawn continue to lock horns, headed for a nasty collision course.  

There's this moment early on when Kerr's asked by an interviewer what he'd do if he lost and his reaction speaks volumes. It's almost as if he can't wrap his head around such an idea, much less the actual possibility, despite it being a prerequisite for every great champion. Watching, you're reminded of Ronda Rousey, a fighter so driven by her hunger to win that she couldn't psychologically process the alternative. When it came, she unraveled, just as Kerr does, going into immediate denial and frantically grasping at straws to search for a loophole that might overturn his worst nightmare. 

Of course, Kerr being high all the time doesn't help, transforming him into someone far different from the polite, mild mannered giant who befriends grandmas and kids in doctor's offices at the film's start. On the mat he's a maniac, but the loss marks a turning point in his personal life, causing him to direct much of that rage at a frustrated Dawn, who gives it right back. Nearly from the jump, Safdie plant the seed that she's an outsider in her boyfriend's world, always taking a back seat to his love of competition. 

Accustomed to being the center of attention, Dawn tries to connect with him, only pushing his buttons instead, leaving a patient, levelheaded Coleman to act as intermediary while facing media criticism his own MMA career is winding down. Ironically, it's when Kerr gets clean that things get far worse, prompting us to realize his toxic relationship with Dawn can't exclusively be chalked up to the drugs. At times it's more a symptom than a cause since there's more than enough blame to go around for both. Only when he starts making real strides in his recovery do they drift even further apart, causing an isolated Dawn to spiral.

Buried under facial prosthetics, a bigger, more jacked than usual Johnson sort of resembles a cross between Lou Ferrigno and Kurt Angle, with a little of The Rock peeking through. Claims that he's completely unrecognizable or totally disappears aren't exactly accurate, but that's a good thing, since this portrayal wouldn't be nearly as effective without the actor's real persona enhancing it. And though his skills are stretched beyond anything we've recently seen from him, it still incorporates a showmanship and intensity similar to that he displayed between the ropes. We glimpse it in scenes where he's demolishing doors and walls, but it's actually the quieter, emotional moments where he's most impressive, breaking down like a small, helpless child as his character crumbles. 

Eyes rolled when it appeared Blunt would be saddled with another suffering wife role, but Dawn has a meatier arc than that, particularly in the film's second half, mostly due to the actress and a certain level of awareness in Safdie's script. And while Kerr's pairing with her is marred by addiction and mental instability, it strays from the usual template of a abusive relationship, creating a murkier than usual dynamic. MMA fighter Ryan Bader is also excellent in his acting debut, bringing a grounded believability to pal and cornerman Mark Coleman while Bas Rutten's brief but memorable appearance is as crazy as you'd want. 

The ending notably diverges from the "final fight" sports biopic trope in that there's no victory, at least in a traditional cinematic sense. What Kerr achieves is subtler, less tangible and only achievable through continued progress. The very last scene is a keeper, delightfully showing us the real Kerr out and about in the present day. But for those blaming the film's perceived failure on no one knowing who this guy is, it's best to remember all characters are strangers before the credits roll, whether we've heard of them or not. An actor's job is to fill in the blanks, which Johnson compellingly does from its opening minutes.  

I'll gladly take ten Smashing Machines over the projects Johnson's recently chosen, while hoping its muted reception doesn't cause him to swear off riskier parts and head straight back to the action realm. Ideally, he should do a variety of both, which would have already gotten fans used to the idea of him tackling heavier material. But he's on the right track, even if it didn't pull viewers who flocked to Johnson's other movies. Unflinchingly honest, it rarely pulls its punches, dropping us into a grittier era to tell the story of the fighter who helped put UFC on the map.