The Rock gets raw: How Dwayne Johnson ditched Hollywood swag for raging grief in Smashing Machine

Fear and vulnerability aren’t exactly Dwayne Johnson’s brand. He’s the eyebrow-raising, smirk-flashing, arena-crushing, globe-dominating juggernaut known as The Rock — a man who makes sweating through action sequences look like a casual warm-up. But even legends have skeletons in the closet… and for Johnson, it came in the form of a little indie project called The Smashing Machine.

Turns out, stepping out of blockbuster comfort zones and into raw, messy drama is messy and raw. “It’s not easy to think, ‘Hey, I’m capable of doing this and I know I can do this,’” Johnson, 53, told The Associated Press. “You may seem, may have a veneer, that you’re capable of it and you’re confident. But I was very nervous and scared to do it because it’s something that I hadn’t done before.”

Johnson has never shied away from his past — a turbulent childhood, rocky relationship with his late father Rocky Johnson, and financial insecurity — but as an entertainer, he’d long kept those old wounds off-screen. This time was different. He was ready to channel that history into his craft: performance and storytelling. And Hollywood is already taking notice, whispering Oscar buzz.

The Smashing Machine, which hits theaters October 3, wasn’t just a leap for Johnson. It was a chance for co-star Emily Blunt and first-time feature director Benny Safdie to explore new creative terrain.

“It’s hard for us to know what we’re capable of sometimes,” Blunt said. “Maybe you need friends around you putting a jet pack on your back and saying, ‘You can’ and ‘you’re awesome’ and you have so much that you can delve into.”

Johnson never really did the indie route — he didn’t need to. In 2001, he exploded onto the scene with The Mummy Returns and hasn’t slowed down. In less than 25 years, his movies have grossed over $12.5 billion worldwide — and none of it Marvel.

But when he watched John Hyams’ documentary about Kerr, something clicked. Years later, when he founded his production company Seven Bucks, he snapped up the rights. Still, it wasn’t until the frenetic brilliance of Uncut Gems hit him that the spark reignited. What if the Safdies — the visionaries who turned Adam Sandler into Howard Ratner — could see something new in him too?

“I think everybody has this certain idea of who he’s going be,” Safdie said. “When I met him, and he brings this story, I was just like, OK, I get it. There’s so much there that maybe he’s not being asked to show.”

Johnson announced the project in November 2019, but the pandemic shelved it temporarily. Safdie, however, never stopped imagining it. A hand-delivered Nautica sweater (size XXL) and a heartfelt letter went unacknowledged, but the obsession lingered.

“It burrowed itself into my brain,” Safdie said. “Imagining Dwayne as Mark … it was like my imagination went crazy with it because I really just wanted to see it in existence.”

A strange opportunity arose while Safdie worked with Blunt on Oppenheimer. Knowing their connection from Jungle Cruise, he brought up The Smashing Machine. Blunt was immediately intrigued.

“That’s self-realised performance,” Blunt said. “I was like, ’You wrote it? You saw it? How many more bonkers people have you got lurking inside of you?’”

She saw the chance for all three to be pushed to the edge.

“All three of us felt that, you know? That moment of terror of what you’re trying to create is something very unique. This was going to be, especially for DJ, I realized, a very unique experience and a kind of launch into the unknown. But I think maybe Benny and I knew that he could do it.”

Kerr’s life was complicated — an MMA pioneer before UFC became mainstream, struggles with painkiller addiction, turbulent relationships. Johnson had to physically transform into Kerr: muscles, voice, hair, and prosthetics, with makeup sessions lasting nearly four hours. By the time cameras rolled, The Rock was gone.

“The environment that Benny creates is one of such spontaneity that you really blur the lines between fiction and reality,” Blunt said. “It makes the scenes terribly exciting, but I think it makes them quite hard to come down from, because you’re really in a spell.”

Safdie filmed fight scenes in segments — long takes for intensity, a single take for the climactic emotional explosion.

“When you’re holding on to somebody for dear life, I do know what that feels like and it’s not fun,” Safdie said. “Seeing that happen at such an intense level, it was like, ‘Done, we have it. We don’t need to do that again. I don’t want you guys to do it again.’”

After the hardest scenes, the cast took a 90-minute break, crying from the intensity.

Blunt and Safdie have experienced awards season enough to know the circus it can be.

“Oh my God, we try not to discuss it really,” Blunt groaned.

For Safdie, it’s about connection and self-reflection. Johnson? He’s just happy he listened to that small, scary voice telling him to step outside his comfort zone.

“This has been the most challenging of my entire career, but also the most freeing of my career and the most gratifying because I knew what the opportunity was and that opportunity was for me to explore and access things that I hadn’t in the past, certainly not on film,” Johnson said. “I didn’t want to wake up tomorrow going, God … I really wish I got out of my comfort zone back then. I wanted to wake up and say, ‘I’m so glad I got out of my comfort zone.’ And I’m glad I did it.”

“So are we,” Blunt added.

With inputs, quotes from the Associated Press