My quick rating – 6.3/10. In The Smashing Machine, Dwayne Johnson sheds his superstar persona to deliver one of his most transformative performances to date. As Mark Kerr, the dominant but deeply troubled mixed martial artist of the late 1990s, Johnson disappears behind the role, physically and emotionally. The resemblance is uncanny, and his portrayal captures both the brute strength and the fragile humanity behind Kerr’s intimidating exterior. To everyone who lived through the early days of MMA like me, seeing Johnson channel “The Smashing Machine” feels like stepping into a time capsule of a sport still finding its identity.
It tells the story from 1997 to 2000. One of the defining eras of Kerr’s career-in a gritty, documentary style. Rather than glorifying the violence of the cage, the film zeroes in on the toll it takes outside of it. Kerr’s opioid addiction and volatile relationship with his girlfriend Dawn (Emily Blunt) form the emotional backbone of the movie. The chemistry between Johnson and Blunt feels real. Two people stuck in a destructive orbit, holding onto love as everything else around them falls apart.
Ryan Bader, assuming the role of fellow fighter Mark Coleman, brings credibility and heart to the supporting cast. Their camaraderie and shared struggle ground the film in realism. Yet, for all the authenticity in its performances and presentation, The Smashing Machine sometimes feels incomplete. It assumes a level of MMA knowledge that casual viewers might not have. Kerr’s switch from the UFC to Pride Fighting Championships—a major career move motivated by better pay and global recognition—is barely addressed. For longtime fans like myself, who watched Kerr tear through tournaments and reshape early MMA, this omission has felt like a miss in contextualizing just how seismic that move was for the sport.
What the movie nails, however, is the human side of Kerr’s life. The pressure, pain, and pills; the highs of victory and the crushing lows afterward. Seeing snippets of the real Mark Kerr reinforces the film’s commitment to authenticity and gives weight to Johnson’s portrayal. Still, while it succeeds as a character study, it struggles as a broader introduction to Kerr’s legacy. It’s easy to imagine non-fans walking away wondering what made this man a legend in the first place.
The Smashing Machine is well-acted and emotional, offering a somber look at the sacrifices behind the spotlight. But its appeal is limited. MMA fans will find plenty to appreciate, especially those of us who lived through the wild, formative years of the sport. But newcomers may be left on the outside looking in.
