You don’t expect a movie about an MMA fighter to feel this numb—this raw. But The Smashing Machine isn’t on highs, even when fists are flying. It’s about what happens when the crowd goes home, when the bruises don’t fade, and when being strong stops working.
Mark Kerr was a real fighter. But this film isn’t trying to turn him into a legend. It’s showing you a man who’s falling apart, slowly and silently. Dwayne Johnson plays him with a kind of restraint you don’t see often—especially not from him. He looks like he could take on the world, but most of the time, he can barely look in the mirror.
You feel for him. Not because he’s heroic, but because he’s human. He wants to be loved, but doesn’t know how to let someone in. He wants to stay clean, but can’t. He wants to keep winning, even when it’s taking a toll on him.
Emily Blunt, as Dawn, is quietly heartbreaking. She’s not there to “fix” him. She’s just there, watching someone she loves, slip further away, trying to hold the line without losing herself.
There’s no big speech. No clean victory. Just a man trying to survive himself.
That’s what makes The Smashing Machine hit so hard. It’s not about the fight—it’s about the person behind it. And that’s what sticks with you.
