There should be no doubt that Dwayne Johnson is very good at what he does. He is a natural showman, a skilled promoter of his own image, and a master of physical presence both inside and outside the ring. As an actor, he can be extremely charismatic and disciplined, capable of holding the screen through raw magnetism. He is also not the most versatile actor, and despite already proving smart variations of his persona in films like Pain and Gain or even impressing with a complex voice performance that also showed his vocal chops in Moana, you know exactly what you will get when you see his name on a poster.
Which makes Benny Safdie’s approach to The Smashing Machine extremely smart, and deserving of his Best Director prize at the Venice Film Festival. He crafts an entire movie built around the casting of Dwayne, and how much the ex-fighter is capable, and more importantly, not capable of hiding his image. He gives Johnson the space to play vulnerable, while surrounding him with docu style framing, restrained dialogue, and silence. Knowing full well that he could never erase The Rock from Dwayne Johnson, he embraces the audience’s awareness of him, which is perfect to portray a man who once seemed untouchable but carries fragility just beneath the surface, a fighter desperate to maintain his myth even as his body and spirit are breaking. You get the Rock’s unmistakable voice speaking in Mark Kerr’s tone and cadence, and makeup that alters certain features such as a changed nose shape while letting the actor’s most recognizable traits like his mouth and eyes remain untouched.
The film follows Mark Kerr from his peak years in the late nineties, when he was undefeated and feared as one of the strongest men in the world, to his decline. Used to dominating every opponent, all changed in a match in which his opponent committed an illegal act that left Kerr shaken. Even if the result was later overturned, the psychological damage remained, and Kerr sank deeper into painkillers. From there, the film becomes a study of a giant who at his core does not know how to lose, an exploration of a man who gradually comes to the realization of his own limits.
Much has been said about Johnson’s performance and how it might be Oscar worthy, but my sense is that once the film leaves the festival circuit audiences may be surprised at what it actually is, and how un-Oscary it feels. The most obvious dramatic scene has Johnson covering his face with his hand, keeping us from seeing him (and Kerr) crying. But yes, it is a performance worthy of praise and perhaps a nomination, showing intelligence that lies in subtle choices: small physical gestures that sell Kerr’s loss of confidence even as his body remains imposing, how he portrays the frustration in his relationship with his girlfriend, and how he conveys Kerr’s inability to accept defeat, with his insistence about the knee to the head both funny and deeply tragic.
On the other spectrum, Emily Blunt’s casting becomes a problem. Unlike Johnson, whose celebrity persona adds tension and duality to Kerr’s arc, hers sinks her character scenes. She is always a good actor, has chemistry with Johnson which likely comes from their work together in Jungle Cruise, and hits the required notes, stripping away glamour as much as she can. But where Johnson’s presence deepens the realism, along with the casting of real fighters to play themselves or other roles, Blunt tips the balance back toward Hollywood polish. In her scenes she feels like the movie character in a room of real people. A lesser known actress trying to project star like energy might have mirrored Kerr’s own struggle more directly, given the film a rougher edge and contributed to what the film has going for it the most in the first place. Her scenes end up being the film’s most frustrating, leaving the film to find strength mostly in moments where Mark interacts with his mentor or in the fights themselves.
In those moments, the film truly immerses. The fights are shot close, every punch landing with brutal impact. The story remains accessible, following the familiar beats of a sports drama since Mark’s life is not especially original or remarkable in its arc. What elevates it in every way is Safdie’s approach, centered on how Kerr’s entire sense of self depends on his ability to dominate. Once that crumbles, his identity collapses, and with it his reason for existence.
This is part of Reviews On Reels TIFF 2025 Coverage. Due to the hectic rhythm of a film festival, it may be tweaked in the future.
Still courtesy of TIFF.