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![](\"https:\/\/cdn.craft.cloud\/26ed9c78-feb7-4ee6-8ddf-262fd7bafb2d\/assets\/tco\/images\/TheSmashingMachine.jpg\")
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Of course there have been inevitable (and not entirely unfair) jokes about The Rock running for an Oscar since The Smashing Machine <\/i>was announced, but Safdie and Johnson certainly make a\u00a0compelling case for it. While even a\u00a0wig and some prosthetics can\u2019t hide his incredibly recognisable visage, there\u2019s a\u00a0delicateness and vulnerability Johnson brings to the role as well as obvious physical command that combine into a\u00a0mesmerising and empathetic character study. He understands Kerr \u2013 undoubtedly because he was a\u00a0part of the wrestling world long before he was an actor \u2013 and watching how deftly he delivers this performance, it\u2019s a\u00a0shame Johnson has languished in middling blockbusters and action movies for the last 20<\/span>\u00a0years when he\u2019s clearly capable of\u00a0more.<\/p>\n But even beyond the two excellent lead performances and the exceptional supporting turn from real-life MMA<\/span> fighter Ryan Bader as Kerr\u2019s friend and fellow UFC<\/span> competitor, Mark Coleman, there\u2019s plenty else working in The Smashing Machine<\/i>\u200b\u2019<\/span>s favour, which shuns the trappings of traditional sporting biopics obsessed with the concept of sacrificing everything in the name of victory. The early loss that Mark experiences sets his life on a\u00a0different path: he must reckon with his opioid dependency; his self-destructive career; his relationship and his mental state before he can even think about getting back in the\u00a0ring.\u00a0<\/p>\n Safdie works in a\u00a0different mode to the swollen melodrama of many genre mates \u2013 even the greatest among them \u2013 and a\u00a0key influence is John Hyams\u2019 raw and revealing 1997<\/span> documentary, which also gives this film its name. Some moments are recreated, such as Kerr earnestly explaining UFC<\/span> to a\u00a0lightly baffled woman in a\u00a0doctor\u2019s waiting room, but much has been condensed, and this is to the film\u2019s benefit as it avoids becoming a\u00a0by-the-book account of Kerr\u2019s life so\u00a0far.\u00a0<\/p>\n Even the decision to shoot all the UFC<\/span> fights in a\u00a0more traditional television event style (distant angles, quick cuts, cameras buzzing around like flies) rather than the evocative and intimate close-ups that have defined masterworks like Raging Bull <\/i>and even The Wrestler <\/i>give The Smashing Machine <\/i>its own signature. The handheld camerawork of previous Safdie films returns, with The Curse <\/i>cinematographer Maceo Bishop (who also worked in the Uncut Gems<\/i> camera department) stepping up to the plate, fashioning something that feels chaotic and thrilling but never out of control.<\/p>\n In fact, it\u2019s a\u00a0film that feels gloriously alive, earnest in its depiction of masculinity that is fragile rather than toxic while still grappling with the question of why anyone would choose to make a\u00a0living in such a\u00a0barbaric way. Every punch, every kick and every fall is felt, and while he\u2019s mopping blood from his nose or having his chin stitched back up, the question lingers about the compulsion that drives Kerr; the compulsion that drives all of us to do things that are bad for us in the name of something greater that we might not even be able to articulate. In this sense, The Smashing Machine <\/i>isn\u2019t about victory or loss, but the why and how you\u00a0bleed.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n