The Smashing Machine had its North American Premiere at the 2025 Toronto International Film Festival. A24 will release it in theaters on October 03.

The Smashing Machine could have had it all. It's got an interesting premise about the life story of Mark Kerr, the former UFC Heavyweight Champion, whose blood, sweat, and tears laid the groundwork for all the glitz and glamour that current fighters have the privilege to bask in. It's got a headline performance from Dwayne Johnson, the world's biggest wrestling and movie star, hungry to sink his teeth into something meatier after years of work on stuff like Red Notice, Red One, and Red Alert (I'll let you figure out which one of those titles is fake). It's helmed by writer/director Benny Safdie, one-half of the Safdie brother duo with his elder brother Josh. Before their break-up, the pair got down and dirty with Good Time and Uncut Gems, offering a jittery look inside the psyches of those who like to go off the deep end. And above all of them in the hierarchy is distributor/producer A24, recently specializing in merging blockbuster talent with arthouse sensibilities.

But instead of getting the best of all worlds, we get the middle of it. This is still a standard sports biopic, filled with the ups and downs brought upon by drugs, alcohol, and redemption. No amount of rough-around-the-edges production can mask that DNA, which begs the question of why Safdie and Johnson wanted to tell this story when there's already a 2002 documentary with the same name and scope. The answers are money, fame, and ego, the three most potent qualities in both the movie and wrestling industries. Where there's a scrappy indie that fills a niche, there needs to be a glossier Hollywood version that raises the viewership ceiling.

There's also the fact that Johnson is probably the only person in history who could play Kerr without subjecting themselves to Bane's Venom Serum. Standing 6'3" and weighing 250 lbs, Kerr was a mountain of muscle, proportioned almost like an upside-down triangle. The fifty-three-year-old Johnson turns back the clock twenty years to replicate that physique, complete with bulging neck muscles and tree trunk arms. Kazu Hiro, the renowned makeup designer for transformative performances such as Gary Oldman as Winston Churchill in Darkest Hour, Bradley Cooper as Leonard Bernstein in Maestro, and Charlize Theron as Megyn Kelly in Bombshell, adds a crinkled hairpiece and some facial prosthetics to complete the look.

Johnson talks the talk as much as he walks the walk, using his professional wrestling background to lend insight into why someone would subject themselves to so much torture. Lest we forget, the early days of the UFC didn't promise million-dollar-plus purses and entourages. Kerr emerges from a fight covered in blood and bruises, only to be handed a check for $3000. He lived in a modest house in Phoenix, flew commercial to all his fights, maintained memberships at commercial gyms, and dealt with the hassle of insurance for all his pain medications. This is where the incentive to become "The Smashing Machine" comes into play, with fast knockouts keeping the door to his career open just a bit longer. He wears just as many scars as victories, each one a reminder of just how committed he is to being the best. It's the greatest feeling in the world because losing costs so much.

Safdie plunges us right into the action, applying a docudrama approach through handheld camerawork and plenty of zooms. We follow along in a long take as Mark goes from the locker room to the ring, everyone in the halls gawking at his enormous frame. There are probably more moments within those confined spaces than on the stage, with introspection being more difficult than taking a knee to the head. Real-life mixed martial artist Ryan Bader plays Kerr's best friend and fellow fighter Mark Coleman. His wooden line delivery is an intentionally smart choice, illustrating how a bond born through combat can't be expressed with words.

Emily Blunt doesn't get the same treatment as Mark's girlfriend, Dawn. She's given the stereotypical role of "suffering partner," battling with Mark as he gets progressively buried by addiction and the threat of losing. It's hard to blame Safdie or Blunt for capturing the reality of the situation, but they go about it with the same rote scenarios we've seen time and time again. Little remarks become blow-ups, which eventually lead to reconciliations. If you're going to treat someone's story the same as everyone else's, then how am I supposed to perceive what was so special about them?