Not to initiate such a review with such pessimism right off the bat, but for all the marketing out there claiming this is the “most spectacular” or “a revelation” for Dwayne Johnson in years for a sports drama based on the MMA/UFC fighter Mark Kerr’s tale, it’s at the very least, a refreshing turn of events in a movie that seems relatviely bland in structuring. Perhaps it’s the bulky prosthetics or the lack of a tantalizing story of fighting demons, but The Smashing Machine only seems to smash when it selectively chooses to do so.
You see, at times when examining this A24-distributed feature, it’s almost a snippet of a life that never reaches genuine catharsis because it’s too littered with only the prime talking points about drug overdose, relationships, or Mark Kerr’s mental struggles in the ring. There isn’t an external context a la Man on the Moon; simply an incessant, standalone “for your appreciation” set pieces. Pivotal questions arise more than anything: Why the addiction to opioids? What is his reasoning for rejecting his girlfriend Dawn’s contemplations about having a kid? What is Kerr’s desire and need for his growth as a character, beyond a controversial loss stitched into one of his fights overseas? The arbitrary nature becomes incredibly confounding amidst a cursory script.
Diving into this feature with Johnson leading, as Kerr only leaves the remains of one statement introduced at the beginning, “Winning is the best feeling there is.” And noble it shall be; the film desperately tries to become a ho-hum depiction of a fighter sinking to his core, then splintering into his lifestyle through some wins and losses. Johnson is unsettled by the controversial loss, punching a door, then settling back again. His girlfriend, Dawn (played by Emily Blunt), ushers in her vexations before threatening her life in the process towards the end. It’s almost a codependency factor, sticking with one another through the hard times and constant arguments, even if the lack of information about why they got together remains on the faltering front.
Johnson and Emily Blunt do have great chemistry with one another (as they had shown glimpses of in Jungle Cruise), bellowing at each other in this distorted life where Kerr’s fighting commitments hinder their characters’ potential to settle down together. Johnson does give tremendous weight to this performance, which has been lost in the shuffle for years, after playing the monotonous, hulky big star who runs roughshod over the bad guys and wins the day. The MMA ring definitely gives him ease after spending a lifetime in the WWE ring atmosphere. Blunt does make an impression with her loathing sentiments, but nothing memorable once the credits roll.
Perhaps the most irksome factor remains in that infusing your latest sports feature with derivative portions from the 2002 documentary (The Smashing Machine: The Life and Times of Extreme Fighter Mark Kerr) doesn’t make it any more appealing. Director Benny Safdie opts away from the clichés and recipes of other Hollywood biopics, but doesn’t substitute anything substantial in the mix (aside from some protein shakes whipped up in the kitchen, because whole milk matters more). Even when limping to the climax, there is no grace like a Rocky IV or a Rambo ending battle to salvage it.
The Smashing Machine, despite a valiant effort by Johnson and Blunt, becomes a cluttered bit of machinery before it ever gets rolling.
