Flasz On Film

Synopsis: Mark Kerr, a dominant MMA fighter at the peak of his career, battles addiction, self-doubt, and a turbulent relationship that threaten to destroy everything he’s built. As his success fades and personal struggles mount, he’s forced to confront the limits of his body and the consequences of his choices. His journey becomes a raw portrait of ambition, pain, and fragile redemption.

When it comes to underdog sports dramas, specifically set in the world of boxing or wrestling, the bar for a movie to succeed is placed exceptionally low. One does not need to produce a film that would rival the likes of Rocky, Raging Bull, The Fighter or The Wrestler to eke out some breathing room and craft an experience that would be exhilarating, emotionally charged and uplifting for the viewer. It’s not even about having to reinvent the wheel or subvert the format in any appreciable way. All that a movie like this needs to do is to lean into the authenticity of the story, honesty of its characters and the drama innate to their pursuit and just roll with the punches. That’s it. No more. No less.

But as the example of The Smashing Machine proves, nothing’s ever impossible and even the perfect hand of cards can be squandered. This first solo directorial effort from Benny Safdie after his recent artistic split from his brother Josh (who is also coming out with a movie The Marty Supreme later this year) does however—at least in theory—follow the formula of that archetypal underdog redemption arc and looks as though it wanted to execute on the assignment. It recounts the tale of one Mark Kerr (Dwayne Johnson), one of the pioneers of mixed martial arts, his rise to prominence, volatile struggles with addiction to opioids and an implosive relationship with his girlfriend Dawn (Emily Blunt), all of which neatly forms a familiar shape we have seen time and again over the years and decades.

To this end, Safdie employs his recognizable visual aesthetic the viewer will most assuredly connect with such movies as Uncut Gems or Good Time as the story plods through the various formula checkpoints, like Kerr’s success in the ring, dramatically charged controversies, his downward spiral into addiction, unraveling and eventual redemption, albeit with a decidedly bittersweet conclusion. Safdie’s camera stays frequently in extreme close-ups and hovers shakily as it captures the protagonists’ intimate moments from the perspective of a fly on the wall with a telephoto lens. The movie looks characteristically raw and grainy, as though it was aesthetically poised to imitate a late ’90s sports documentary and thus imbue the entire experience with authenticity the format calls for.

And all these constituent elements are formally there, no doubt about it. Safdie’s coverage of Kerr’s fights is appropriately personal, the drama ensuing between Kerr and Dawn is also accordingly raw and painful as it attempts to find emotional realism in the story and bring it to the fore. The redemption arc is there, too. It is clear that the filmmakers knew what they were doing and that they had most assuredly done their homework while crafting The Smashing Machine.

Yet, the movie refuses to gel and those building blocks never assemble into a cohesive structure worth admiring. Having pondered this question for a little while, I can only point to Dwayne Johnson’s performance as the culprit here. Despite his unquestionable star quality, the man doesn’t seem willing or able to let his guard down and allow the character of Mark Kerr to fuse with his own persona for the purposes of the story. His work is thus incredibly performative and inhibited. I don’t know if it’s the lack of courage or conviction, or rather the result of having spent his entire career crafting a public persona rooted in heightened theatrics—coming from wrestling straight into mainstream escapist entertainment—but throughout the entire duration of the movie it is impossible for him to disappear into Mark Kerr. And for a film like this to succeed, this kind of character vulnerability is unfortunately non-negotiable.

Johnson just doesn’t have the wherewithal and distance to himself to put his personal baggage in a box and let the movie guide him.  He looks like a guy who insists on staying in control at all times and therefore it is impossible for him to lose his Rock-ability. Even in moments that should otherwise register as tender and vulnerable, Dwayne Johnson remains on, as though a wink away from letting us know what “The Rock is cooking.” And it is by all accounts a killing blow for the movie as a whole. You cannot conjure an experience reliant on audience‘s emotional engagement in the drama unfolding on the screen when the main conduit of this process insists on staying at arm’s length from the material.

Consequently, The Smashing Machine plays out as bland and disappointing as licking an ice cream through the store window would be. In fact, watching this film might even evoke a sense of irritation in those of us who came expecting an emotionally charged experience. Because we know what we want and we understand what Benny Safdie’s movie was supposed to deliver. We can see from afar what the building blocks were supposed to add up to and it pains us to acknowledge the lack of structural integrity of the completed build. Watching this movie is occasionally just as frustrating as it is to watch a great team throw the entire game by missing an open goal and by the team’s lead striker refusing to trust his teammates.

Suffice it to say, while watching The Smashing Machine I felt trapped in the cinema because I knew this story had what it takes to deliver and yet , it didn’t. And as I marinated in this realization, all I could think about was that I could have stayed home and watched Rocky or The Wrestler instead.