Dwayne Johnson has spent most of his career as Hollywood’s most bankable action hero. But in Benny Safdie’s new biopic The Smashing Machine, the man once known as “The Rock” leaves behind his blockbuster persona and delivers the most vulnerable performance of his career.
Based on the 2002 HBO documentary of the same name, Safdie’s film dives into the rise and unraveling of Mark Kerr, the mixed martial arts and UFC star who dominated the late ’90s before addiction, anger, and personal demons nearly destroyed him. What could have been another formulaic “rise and fall” sports story instead becomes an intimate, raw character study — one that places Johnson in completely new territory.
The Man Behind the Machine
The opening scene sets the tone: grainy fight footage of Kerr’s amateur debut, where he batters an opponent into submission while his disarmingly gentle voiceover describes the rush of breaking another man’s will. Safdie wastes no time in showing the contradiction at the heart of Kerr — a polite, almost soft-spoken giant whose existence depends on controlled violence.
Johnson leans into this contradiction. His Mark Kerr is equal parts terrifying and fragile: a hulking figure with shark-white teeth and superhero muscles, but haunted by demons he barely understands. Gone is the trademark Johnson charm; in its place, a brooding intensity and quiet sadness that feel almost unrecognizable.
Violence, Love, and Addiction
Set between 1997 and 2000, the film follows Kerr’s dominance in the ring alongside his volatile relationship with girlfriend Dawn (Emily Blunt). Their love is passionate but toxic, erupting into screaming matches over smoothies and cats before boiling into explosive violence. Blunt brings both compassion and bite to Dawn, refusing to let her character become a cliché “fighter’s girlfriend.”
At the same time, Kerr battles an opioid addiction born from the brutal punishment of MMA fighting. Safdie doesn’t sensationalize it — instead, addiction becomes another layer of Kerr’s obsession with control. Even his drug use feels regimented, until it suddenly spirals into collapse.
A Safdie Story, But Different
Audiences expecting the manic, high-anxiety chaos of Uncut Gems may be surprised. Safdie’s solo outing is slower, more meditative, and in many ways closer to Darren Aronofsky’s The Wrestler or Scorsese’s Raging Bull. There are training montages — one even set to Elvis Presley’s “My Way” — but they’re undercut with irony, reminding us that this is no straightforward underdog tale.
The film builds toward the Pride Fighting Championships in Japan, where Kerr and his close friend Mark Coleman (Ryan Bader) may have to face each other in the final. Yet Safdie resists the easy route of triumph or tragedy. Instead, he delivers something deeper: the story of a man realizing that winning in the ring isn’t the same as saving himself.
The Rock, Reinvented
The biggest shock of The Smashing Machine is how completely Johnson transforms. For years, he’s been Hollywood’s indestructible blockbuster mascot. Here, he strips away that armor and finds the broken, human core of Mark Kerr. It’s the kind of performance that could redefine his career — raw, unsettling, and unforgettable.
Safdie’s The Smashing Machine isn’t just a sports movie. It’s a story about violence, vulnerability, and the impossible task of being both a machine and a man. And for Johnson, it’s proof that even the biggest action star in the world still has surprises left to give.
