The Smashing Machine (United States, 2025)

The Smashing Machine is one of those biopics that falls into the trap of trying to do too much within a limited span of time. The tapestry woven by writer/director Benny Safdie is so dense that he might have had a better chance of realizing his vision with the expanded running time of a streaming series. The film, anchored by a towering performance from Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson as Mark Kerr, is at once a sports drama, an addiction-and-recovery story, a tale of toxic romantic love, and an ode to male friendship. Unfortunately, it doesn’t fully succeed as any of these, because with so many elements competing, none has the room to truly emerge.

I was also left wondering what made this story worthy of being retold as a feature. (John Hyams already covered Kerr in a 2002 HBO documentary.) Aside from proving that Johnson can hold his own in the right dramatic role, the recreated scenes add little to what the actual footage conveyed. And while Kerr was a trailblazer—one of the early towering figures of MMA during its shift into the mainstream—his life simply doesn’t have the contours of a truly compelling motion picture. The result is a film that feels run-of-the-mill: not memorable, but not unwatchable either.

Although Kerr remained active in MMA until 2009, the film narrows its focus to the four-year stretch that defined both his dominance and his downfall (1997–2000). It races through his early career in a highlight reel of his first eleven bouts before settling on the darker material: his battles with drugs and his toxic relationship with girlfriend Dawn (Emily Blunt), whose increasingly self-centered behavior erodes his focus. This leads to his first loss (later voided when it was revealed his opponent used an illegal move) and propels him into a drug-fueled downward spiral. He eventually claws his way back, attempting a comeback with the support of his best friend and fellow MMA fighter Mark Coleman (Ryan Bader) and his loyal trainer, Bas Rutten (playing himself).

One of the narrative’s problems is that it lacks the familiar arc of a traditional Hollywood sports movie—a consequence of Safdie’s determination to stick closely to the historical record. Kerr’s life certainly had its share of extreme highs and lows, but they don’t align with the genre’s usual template. That fidelity to reality is a double-edged sword: while the story avoids feeling recycled and occasionally offers an unpredictable jolt, the pacing is uneven and the film never musters much emotional impact.

At the time of this writing, it remains an open question whether Johnson’s performance will earn him accolades during the 2025–26 awards season, but he will almost certainly be part of the conversation. By any objective measure, this is a strong portrayal—one that moves past mimicry to create a fully realized character. For Johnson, it serves as a calling card, signaling to studios and producers that he is capable of more than flexing his muscles and headlining action/adventure or action/comedy vehicles.

This is Safdie’s first solo outing (his previous five films, including 2019’s Uncut Gems, were co-directed with his brother, Josh), yet it carries the same impatient, rambunctious energy—long, handheld shots and an intentionally unpolished aesthetic. It screams “guerrilla indie” despite boasting two A-listers (Johnson and Blunt) at the top of the marquee. Unfortunately, while the two-hour running time offers a sketch of Kerr’s life, the details needed to fully flesh out both his character and the scope of his circumstances remain frustratingly elusive.

The Smashing Machine (United States, 2025)