Generally, I'm interested in movies that explore worlds that are unfamiliar to me. That inclination made me eager to see director Benny Safdie's The Smashing Machine, a look at the early days of UFC full-contact fighting as told through the story of former champion Mark Kerr.
UFC's current popularity aside, the movie's big selling point involves the performance of Dwayne Johnson, who has been made unrecognizable thanks to prosthetic face makeup, fake teeth, and a short crop of curly dark hair. Muscular and hulking, Johnson's Kerr might be mistaken for a Marvel character in search of a series.
Johnson's natural likability underlies the contradiction that makes his performance intriguing. Often displaying Boy Scout-like politeness, Kerr seems like a nice guy, but he's unremitting in the ring where he unleashes his inner beast and, if necessary, beats opponents to a pulp.
Taking place from 1997 to 2000, the story deals with the days before UFC fighting entered the mega-money sweepstakes. Kerr eventually sets his sights on a 2000 championship bout in Japan. The payoff: $200,000 to the winner of a bruising tournament.
Interestingly, the characters refer to $200,000 as life-changing money, chump change in today's athletic environment.
The movie begins with an undefeated Kerr taking on challengers in Brazil. A subsequent bout in Japan results in a crushing "no-contest" decision due to an opponent's foul. What Kerr sees as a devastating failure brings him face-to-face with his addiction to pain-killers and performance enhancing drugs.
Out of the ring, the film slips. Safdie chart's Kerr's stormy relationship with Dawn (Emily Blunt), a woman who becomes a bit of a Delilah figure for Kerr's Sampson. He accuses her of interfering with his need to intensify his focus during training, and the movie sometimes feels like a watered-down version of Raging Bull.
Numerous fight scenes left me gasping at how much pain was being inflicted: heads slammed against canvases, knees bashing torsos, and faces pummeled by jack-hammer blows.
Given the demands of ring life, it's hardly surprising that Kerr finds his closest relationship with fellow fighter Mark Coleman, played by Ryan Bader, himself a former UFC fighter. Another former fighter, Bas Rutten, helps prepare Kerr for a second try at the championship. All of these guys share what they might call "warrior love."
Smashing Machine covers too short a period of time to be considered a full-fledged biopic. Heavy make-up also comes with a price: At times, I found myself distracted searching for traces of Johnson under his heavy makeup.
Skimpy on psychological probing, the movie offers a face-value view of Kerr's motivation. Winning brings the highest of highs, the charge of victory that can't be duplicated elsewhere, Kerr says. There's a cruel if obvious irony to be found here, as well: If victory is the highest of highs, defeat becomes the lowest of lows.
A rudimentary look at UFC fighting, Smashing Machine might have benefited from some perspective about the society that idolizes these modern-day gladiators.
Enough said -- at least for me. Johnson stamps his signature on a real-life figure, providing Kerr with bulk that threatens to burst through the screen, but this tightly wound slice of a battler's life never quite finds a larger point to make.
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