I walked into “The Smashing Machine” expecting a bruising, heartfelt story of obsession and downfall… and walked out wondering how such a goldmine of a story could be squandered this badly.
What should have been gripping and emotional turns into a muddled, self-conscious exercise in style over substance. The pathos never lands, the exhilaration never arrives, and the whole point of Mark Kerr’s journey gets lost somewhere in the haze of ambition.
Dwayne Johnson genuinely delivers; he’s stripped of his trademark swagger and gives the role everything he’s got. But he’s deserted by a script that doesn’t know what it wants to say and direction that mistakes grit for depth. I doubt he’ll get another shot at Oscar talk after this one – not because of his performance, but because the film leaves you cold.
The jittery camera and faux-documentary approach are more jarring than immersive. In chasing awards, the makers forgot the audience.
A hollow, exhausting misfire. 4.5/10.
