The Smashing Machine 2025 Parents Guide

The Smashing Machine is Rated R by Motion Picture Rating (MPA) for language and some drug abuse.

Review: The Smashing Machine

Who is Mark Kerr? That’s the lingering question at the heart of The Smashing Machine. By the end, Benny Safdie’s film crowns him a “pioneer” of mixed martial arts during its scrappy growth phase with international audiences. Fair enough. But you can’t help wondering if that framing might have landed better at the beginning, instead of arriving as a postscript. Safdie, working solo without his brother Josh for the first time, isn’t especially interested in a cradle-to-ring biography. This isn’t a sweeping life story. It’s more of a jagged snapshot a portrait of one chaotic stretch in Kerr’s career.

And it’s an uneven portrait at that. The film skimps on detail, often leaving you wanting more about who Kerr actually is, but it compensates with a surprisingly strong sense of mood. There are bursts of raw energy that capture both the euphoric highs and soul-sapping lows of a man who can flatten opponents but can’t always keep himself upright. For Dwayne Johnson, playing Kerr is a genuine gift: a chance to shed the megastar grin and actually disappear into someone flawed, vulnerable, and deeply human.

Does it always work? Not entirely. Safdie sometimes veers into soapier terrain melodramatic swerves that feel imported from a different movie. Still, when the film locks into its rawer gear, it stays compelling, even bruising, and does enough to argue for Kerr’s place in the cultural memory.

How It All Stareted

It’s 1997. Mark Kerr (Johnson) is leaving behind the staged theatrics of pro wrestling to test himself in the new and feral frontier of mixed martial arts. He’s a brute force, sure, but Safdie also paints him as unexpectedly sensitive especially in his relationship with Dawn (Emily Blunt), who’s never quite sure what her partner needs from her.

From Arizona to Japan, Kerr chases legitimacy in Pride FC, an MMA promotion eager to showcase the hulking newcomer. The wins pile up. The adrenaline rush becomes its own drug. But behind closed doors, Kerr is fighting a far more insidious opponent: an addiction to painkillers. Dawn sees it, fears it. His circle friends like fellow fighter Mark (Ryan Bader) and mentor Bas Rutten (playing himself) tries to keep him anchored as he stumbles through temptations, triumphs, and the faint hope of one day claiming a Pride championship.

A Solo Safdie World

Benny Safdie has a history of directing with his brother, delivering jittery, nerve-shredding gems like Good Time and Uncut Gems. Going solo here, he’s clearly intent on preserving that Safdie signature: handheld camerawork, documentary grit, a world that feels lived-in rather than staged. The atmosphere is there the chaotic locker rooms, the raucous Japanese arenas, the strange cultural exchanges that come with fighting abroad.

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The film tracks Kerr’s rise as a Pride FC darling, but it’s just as concerned with what he hides—his gnawing insecurities, his private unraveling. It’s this tension that Safdie seems most fascinated by: the polite, almost disarmingly kind Kerr, trying to treat others with respect even as his own life corrodes under pressure.

Here’s where the film takes its boldest swing. Rather than fixate solely on MMA spectacle, Safdie pivots to addiction drama. Painkillers turn Kerr into a ghost of himself, particularly in his relationship with Dawn. And here’s the shocker: Johnson rises to the occasion. Gone is the Hollywood cockiness that’s defined so much of his career. Instead, we see a man cornered by his own weakness, angry at his frailty, and desperate for dignity. Honestly? It’s the best performance he’s ever given.

But there are limits. Safdie keeps Kerr’s personal life frustratingly opaque. We learn nothing of his family. Dawn, despite Blunt’s efforts, is left more symbol than person. And the final act bloated with melodrama and sudden bursts of extremity feels like a stumble. Why Kerr and Dawn even stay together is never convincingly explained.

Still, just when it seems in danger of collapsing, the film steadies itself by returning to the sport. Tournament sequences reintroduce themes of loyalty, resilience, and identity, giving the story a final push of momentum.

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The Smashing Machine 2025 Parents Guide

Violence & Gore: This is not your sanitized action flick. Expect brutal MMA scenes: bone-jarring strikes, blood, swelling, cuts, fighters collapsing Safdie doesn’t shy from the mess. Close-ups of injuries, fatigue, and medical attention land hard. It’s realistic and sometimes discomfiting. If you’ve got a kid who flinches at scraped knees, steer clear.

Language: The “f-word” gets more airtime than a sports announcer. Locker rooms, fights, training: harsh words are standard. If your ears are primed for clean speech, this will sting.

Sexual Content: Minimal. There’s no nudity parade. Maybe brief intimacy or suggestive moments, but nothing graphic or prolonged. Definitely not a selling point Safdie’s not here for steamy scenes, he’s here for bruises and breakdowns.

Substance Use / Drugs: This is where the film does its deepest work and where it hurts the most. Painkiller abuse, withdrawal, dependency the film drags you into Kerr’s struggle. You see the push, the surrender, the fight back. You feel the paranoia, frustration, desperation. It doesn’t glamorize it. It’s messy, grounded, and unflinching. There might be alcohol around (typical adult settings), but the real substance drama is medicinal and insidious.

Age Recommendation
If your kid’s under, say, 16 and hasn’t been exposed to savage violence or the uglier side of addiction, this is a hard pass. For older teens? Maybe with heavy guidance. The Smashing Machine isn’t for viewing while eating popcorn; it demands some emotional investment. But by God, when it lands, it lands.

Conclusion

The Smashing Machine doesn’t entirely crack who Mark Kerr is and that absence is sometimes frustrating. But it does craft a vivid, affectionate portrait of a man torn between dominance in the cage and fragility everywhere else. Safdie clearly loves Kerr, and the film plays like a bruised but sincere tribute. Messy? Absolutely. But also gripping, atmospheric, and thanks to Johnson’s career-best work surprisingly moving.

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