by Tim Gordon
Benny Safdie, co-creator of Uncut Gems and Good Time, dives headfirst into the bruising world of early mixed martial arts with The Smashing Machine, a biographical drama chronicling the turbulent life of MMA pioneer Mark Kerr. Starring Dwayne Johnson in his most vulnerable dramatic role to date, the film captures a three-year stretch where triumph inside the cage collided with heartbreak and self-destruction outside of it.
The story follows Kerr at the height of his career, when his dominance in Pride Fighting Championships made him a legend of the nascent sport. Nicknamed “The Smashing Machine” for his brute strength and wrestling pedigree, Kerr was celebrated for his explosive takedowns and violent precision. But behind the adoration was a man unraveling. Battling painkiller addiction, struggling with depression, and locked in a volatile marriage with Dawn Staples (Emily Blunt), Kerr’s victories in the ring stood in stark contrast to the chaos of his private life.
Johnson sheds his larger-than-life Hollywood persona to embody Kerr, capturing both his physical prowess and emotional fragility. His hulking presence sells the fighter’s dominance, but his haunted eyes reveal the broken man beneath the surface. It’s a performance of restraint, rooted less in showy transformation and more in the quiet devastation of a man who can conquer opponents but not his demons. Blunt is compelling in the underwritten role of Dawn, who ricochets between loyalty and despair as Kerr’s world caves in. Their scenes together crackle with tension, but the script too often reduces her to a familiar “worried spouse” archetype rather than granting her a fully realized arc.
Safdie brings his signature intensity to the fight sequences, shooting them with handheld urgency and an almost documentary-like rawness. Each punch lands with a visceral thud, the camera lingering on swollen faces, bloodied mats, and the stunned silence of near knockouts. These moments pulse with the chaotic energy Safdie perfected in Uncut Gems. Yet when the film steps outside the cage, it plays more like a conventional sports biopic, hitting expected beats without digging as deeply as its subject deserves.
Where the movie succeeds is in revealing Kerr’s contradictions, a man celebrated for his indestructibility yet crumbling under the weight of painkillers and personal despair; a champion adored by fans but alienated from himself. The tragedy is palpable: Kerr isn’t undone by a single opponent, but by the relentless demands of his own body and the pressures of a sport built on spectacle.
Still, The Smashing Machine doesn’t fully escape formula. Safdie captures the atmosphere of early MMA, the unregulated chaos, the carnival-like fight nights, the sense of a sport still defining itself, but the film stops short of becoming the raw, searing character study it could have been. Johnson is committed and convincing, but the script keeps him boxed into familiar beats of breakdown, relapse, and redemption without pushing into the full complexity of Kerr’s psyche.
For some, this will be remembered as the film where Dwayne Johnson finally “got serious,” trading quips and explosions for bruises and tears. And while his performance is admirable, the movie around him doesn’t always rise to his level. The Smashing Machine is engaging, often thrilling, but rarely transcendent, a story that mirrors Kerr’s own struggle: powerful, tragic, but ultimately unfinished.
This film was originally reviewed at the Toronto International Film Festival on September 9, 2025
Grade: C+
