Do you smell what The Rock is cooking? No, not really.
Based off true events, Mark Kerr is a never-defeated wrestler in the Ultimate Fighting Tournament. But when his drug-addiction gets a hold of him and his personal life, things have to change. Can he recover and keep everything he has intact?
Actors deserve a chance to break out of their typecasting. Angelina Jolie had movies like Changeling, Robin Williams had One Hour Photo and Insomnia. Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson now has The Smashing Machine, a biopic drama directed by Benny Safdie. Let’s be honest, Johnson’s career has been almost exclusively centred on a raised eyebrow. More recently, he’s been commented on for distrupting the cast of Fast & Furious movies, for arriving on set hours late, for attempting to take over DC Comic movies, and for peeing in bottles. The guy needs a win.
Is The Smashing Machine that win? Eh…
The story follows Mark Kerr (Johnson) an American wrestler who enters the Ultimate Fighting Tournament for the love of fighting. He cites that the tournament is ancient, and has history going back thousands of years; the search for the best fighting style. Even though it includes beating men bloody and senseless, or perhaps because it does, he loves it. It is this passion that keeps him winning. But as his career continues, he finds himself clashing with his girlfriend Dawn, and his own addition to painkillers and opiates.
Firstly, this screenplay is not great. Director and writer Benny Safdie has mostly smaller projects in their filmography, and it kinda shows. The overall effect of this is a story were Mark isn’t a very nice guy. Despite the film ending with fondness and affection for the man, the audience wasn’t carried into this resolution at all. The film’s brief early scene of Mark’s feelings about fighting is all we get. After that, it is scene after scene of Mark’s closed-off attitude towards his partner Dawn (played by Emily Blunt) and his inability to express why beating the living daylights out of men is so rewarding. Cue lots of arguments and utter avoidance of empathy.
Perhaps a good non-spoiler example is a scene with Dawn and Mark’s cat. The cat is seen on the couch, and Mark immediately demands it on the floor. But Dawn insists it is fine. Mark removes the cat, saying they’ll ruin the couch. Dawn then picks up the cat and puts them in her lap instead, much to Mark’s chargin.
We never see this cat again. We never see a destroyed or cat-worried couch. So who is in the wrong here? Dawn? Mark? Both of them? Neither of them? This is an early scene too, and this sort of nebuluous, opaque characterisation runs all the way through.
What happens is, the film becomes two moments: fighting scenes, and Dawn and Mark having dometic arguments. At the drop of a hat, Dawn and Mark will be fighting in the same kitchen set. It all feels very disjointed and soap opera-like.
Not helped by Johnson’s apparent reluctance to get into the meat of the role. Can you remember seeing Johnson crying on screen? No. Well, we barely see it even now. Johnson immediately covering his whole face and “crying” isn’t convincing for how painful these moments should be. And when Mark has to go to rehab for his condition, this happens off-screen. We just see him walking out of some gates, magically cured. Now with his experience in using drugs as a means to help friends by using the same addictive drugs. Okay?
And let’s not mention the painfully bad music choices. Mark doing the Rocky Balboa run up some stairs to Frank Sinatra’s “My Way” was embarrassing.
I cannot state more negatives without talking about some positives. Which there are some. The make-up on Johnson is impressive. The man has a very distinct face, and apart from that smile it is quite hard to see him here. His obvious love for wrestling and these sorts of events is clear. His history in performing in such places is apparent. Write what you know, as they say. There’s good use of jazz-style music during some fights; which works well with the highly improvised fighting involved. Emily Blunt is wonderful with the material she’s been given. Which isn’t that much. There is a metaphor with Japanese Kintsukuroi art style which is excellent, but desperately needed more focus.
You’ll notice I didn’t mention the fighting itself. It is probably authentic looking, but for me it was just a procession of men getting their heads beaten to a pulp as they huddled on the floor.
Overall, I was underwhelmed watching The Smashing Machine. It isn’t my sort of movie, but usually emotional stakes get to me regardless of setting. If done well.
