Benny Safdie’s new film, The Smashing Machine, premiered at the Venice Film Festival to a 15-minute standing ovation and considerable buzz. On the surface, this might seem like a major achievement—particularly for Dwayne Johnson, who plays real-life UFC fighter Mark Kerr. Johnson’s performance, showing both physicality and vulnerability, is exactly what he needed to counter accusations that he lacks range. Make no mistake: Johnson impresses here, fueling speculation about awards season. However, despite his performance and the festival hype, the film itself falls short. 

 

The core issue is that The Smashing Machine ultimately fails to match Johnson’s standout turn. The film becomes a showcase for his growth as an actor—finally aligning him with athlete-turned-actors with true depth—but the larger narrative struggles. While Johnson’s performance deserves attention, the film itself does not rise to the same level, undermining the overall impact. 

 

The film, even with all the fireworks from its premiere, does not satisfy. To be fair to writer/director Benny Safdie, he is not telling a conventional story (despite all appearances), and he and his brother Josh are not conventional filmmakers. The UFC and the Mixed Martial Arts (MMA) communities are niche to say the least. Mark Kerr (Johnson) was one of the pioneers of the sport, along with his friend Mark Coleman (Ryan Bader). The Smashing Machine opens with Kerr in his prime, dominating his opponents. His girlfriend Dawn (Emily Blunt) is both supportive and volatile, and we spend most of the film discerning whether she is an angel or a burden in Kerr’s story. 

 

Kerr travels to Japan to participate in the Pride league, an adjacent body to the UFC, and suffers a humiliating loss and spirals into opioid addiction. He recovers and flounders again during what should have been his triumphant comeback. That is the sum total of the story in The Smashing Machine, and the resolution left me scratching my head. I suppose the film’s message reflects perseverance and tenacity. But Safdie’s script runs so haywire, dropping us into the middle of careers and relationships, and having our antagonist stumble instead of succeeding. I found myself struggling with whom to root for, vectoring my attention to a set of characters who might be real, but who are ostensibly callous. 

 

However, there were parts to like in The Smashing Machine. The sound effect editing was top-notch, as the fight scenes sound violent and punishing; each punch reverberated off my eardrums with bloody certainty. Cinematographer Maceo Bishop shot most of this in 16mm, producing a gritty, intimate perspective into combat sports and the combative relationships that exist outside the octagon. 

 

The performances are what elevate this film from an average experience into a one-time wonder. Emily Blunt and Ryan Bader have had their performances understated in the press at the expense of the headliner, but their screen presence was layered in authenticity. And Dwayne Johnson, what a turn. The big man dons some prosthetics, but his gentle voice and tender approach are what sell the performance. Will he win the Oscar? Probably not. Should he get a nomination? I would not be upset if he did. 

 

My hangup with The Smashing Machine is that it serves more as a pedestal for Johnson to show us the range we have been waiting for him to reveal rather than a cohesive narrative. When A24 produces sports dramas, this is the result. While not completely devoid of interesting parts, there is too much wobble. Conventional sports dramas work because they play by the rules. Even though Safdie’s approach is unconventional, there is no need to reinvent the game.