I’ve enjoyed every Safdie Brothers film so far, and after they coaxed a truly stellar performance out of Adam Sandler for Uncut Gems — probably the best of his entire career — I was very keen to see what Benny could do with Dwayne Johnson in a role that also requires him to play wildly against type. The notion of casting Hollywood’s most reliably affable action star as pioneering MMA fighter Mark Kerr seemed like inspired counter-programming, especially coming from a filmmaker whose previous work thrived on anxiety and moral ambiguity.
The Smashing Machine finds Safdie working solo for the first time, adapting the 2002 HBO documentary of the same name into something of an antithesis to the way sports dramas are typically handled. Where most films in this vein build toward triumphant championship moments, Safdie’s approach strips away the manufactured inspiration and glamorous payoffs that define the genre. This makes it better suited to a filmmaker like Safdie and a studio like A24, both of whom typically spurn convention, and the results justify that instinct.
Set during the gritty early days of MMA fighting, before it evolved into the global multimedia juggernaut of today, The Smashing Machine follows Kerr through his addiction struggles and attempted comeback between 1997 and 2000. There’s a complete lack of the money and glamour and showmanship that defines the modern version of the sport, replaced instead by a documentary-like intimacy that Safdie enhances through Maceo Bishop’s handheld cinematography. The film’s structure closely follows its documentary source, sometimes to the point where Safdie and Bishop recreate specific moments with similar dialogue and camera angles. This creates an odd scenario where the film doesn’t particularly break new ground or bring about revelations that weren’t covered in the original doc, raising questions about whether it needed to be made at all.
Yet Johnson’s achievement makes it impossible to fault its existence — this could very well be the kind of career-defining performance that opens up entirely new possibilities for an actor who had seemingly locked himself into a single mode. He far exceeds any reasonable expectations here, delivering what can’t be argued as anything other than the best work of his career. Buried under Kazu Hiro’s prosthetics work, including cauliflower ears and facial modifications that render him nearly unrecognizable, Johnson strips away every trace of his WWE persona and blockbuster charisma. Where his previous dramatic attempts in projects like HBO’s Ballers still allowed glimpses of “The Rock” to bleed through on occasion, there’s none of that mannered behavior here. Instead, he finds the wounded vulnerability buried beneath Kerr’s soft-spoken demeanor, revealing a gentle giant whose pain simmers just below the surface.
Emily Blunt provides solid supporting work as Dawn, Mark’s volatile girlfriend whose relationship with him becomes increasingly combustible as his addiction deepens. The film takes some dramatic license with her characterization compared to the documentary, where much of their conflict occurred offscreen and was described secondhand. Here, Safdie depicts their arguments in harrowing detail, particularly one domestic confrontation that drives home the fragility of their dynamic.
The rest of the supporting cast benefits from authentic casting choices, with real fighters like Ryan Bader (as Mark’s friend and fellow competitor Mark Coleman) and Bas Rutten (playing himself) bringing credible physicality to their roles. On a side note, after the tremendous physical makeover Johnson received, it’s curious that seemingly no effort went into making Bader resemble the real Coleman. Meanwhile, Rutten appears to have barely aged in the past twenty-plus years since the original documentary was filmed.
Safdie’s direction remains assured throughout, finding the human drama between the violent spectacle. The sequence after Mark’s overdose, where he lies in a hospital bed trying to downplay the severity of his problem before ultimately breaking down in tears, proves particularly effective. In the documentary, Mark was confronted by childhood friends during this crisis; here, Safdie has Coleman visit instead — a change that works especially well given how the film depicts their friendship. Equally memorable is the juxtaposition of Mark lying in the locker room getting his face stitched up while his best friend fights for the biggest prize of his career in the adjacent arena.
The Smashing Machine succeeds by refusing to give combat fans what they typically expect from sports dramas; rather than building toward a triumphant finale, it doubles down on character study and emotional authenticity. The film may not have needed to exist from a storytelling perspective, but as a showcase for what Johnson can accomplish when challenged by the right material and filmmaker, it feels like an essential step forward; sometimes the best surprises come from the most unlikely places.
With Johnson already announcing another project with Safdie and beginning to shed his famously ripped physique for the role — a choice that will no doubt have positive impact on his long-term health — there’s reason for cautious optimism about this creative partnership’s future. If Johnson continues down this path and gets away from the recycled performances he’s been delivering for years, The Smashing Machine may represent more than just a successful dramatic pivot — it could mark the beginning of a genuinely compelling second act for one of Hollywood’s most reliable stars.