Coleman

The contradictions of mixed martial arts brawler Mark Kerr can’t be contained by a ring, an octagon or a film. A vulnerable man with a brutal career, he went undefeated on the mat while struggling in his private relationships and public addiction to painkillers, which he bravely revealed in John Hyams’ 2002 HBO documentary “The Smashing Machine: The Life and Times of Extreme Fighter Mark Kerr.” In that footage, shot between 1997 and 2000, you’re continually startled by how Kerr could clobber his opponents until some lost teeth — putting himself in a mental state he once likened to being a shark in a feeding frenzy — and then after the bell, flash a smile so wide and happy, it split his own head in half.

That’s Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson’s whole thing, too: Kill ’em with charm. So it’s as all-natural as his daily diet of organic chicken breast that the wrestler-turned-blockbuster-star would want to play Kerr in his own pursuit of excellence. He’s overdue for a sincere indie movie. Fair enough. Yet bizarrely, Johnson and writer-director Benny Safdie (“Uncut Gems,” “Good Time”), working solo without his brother Josh, have decided to simply shoot Hyams’ documentary again.

These two high-intensity talents, each with something to prove, seem to have egged each other on to be exhaustingly photorealistic. Johnson, squeezed into a wig so tight we get a vicarious headache, has pumped up his deltoids to nearly reach his prosthetic cauliflower ears. And Safdie is so devoted to duplicating the earthy brown decor of Kerr’s late-’90s nouveau riche Phoenix home that you’d think he was restoring Notre Dame. In setting out to establish his own style, Safdie just mimics another.

Their version of “The Smashing Machine” tells the same story that Hyams did, across the same years with the same handheld aesthetics and rattle-snap jazz score (by composer Nala Sinephro). It’s stiff karaoke that earns a confounded polite clap. That can’t possibly have been the intention, yet even the songs used as needle-drops are conspicuously borrowed: covers of the country crooner Billy Swan singing Elvis, and Elvis singing Frank Sinatra. Meanwhile, Johnson’s Kerr huffs up a set of stairs in a training montage that already belongs to “Rocky.”

Once again, Kerr gets shaken by his first defeat to Igor Vovchanchyn (played by Oleksandr Usyk, the current heavyweight boxing champion) in Japan’s Yokohama Arena, and responds by bottoming out, getting sober and committing to win his next tournament. All the while he bickers with his on-again, off-again alcoholic girlfriend, Dawn (Emily Blunt), who gets blamed for everything that goes wrong in the ring. A teeth-grindingly mismatched couple, they can’t get through a conversation without arguing. Even trying her best to empathize, she’s overbearing. When Dawn alerts his friend and colleague Mark “The Hammer” Coleman (MMA fighter Ryan Bader in his acting debut) that her battering ram of a boyfriend was drinking before a bout, Coleman snaps at her for letting him act so stupid.

Safdie frames Dawn as a force of domestic destruction (although Kerr tears down doors like wet cardboard). In her introduction, she — horrors! — makes his smoothie with the wrong milk and, a beat later, insists on cuddling the cat on their leather sofa. A shattered Japanese kintsugi bowl is a newly added visual metaphor of their relationship, as is Dawn’s attempt to fix it with Krazy glue, a wink-wink at her emotional volatility. Still, we never understand what holds them together. Blunt is stuck in a reprise of her Oscar-nominated supporting role in “Oppenheimer” as the drunk whose cruelty pardons the male lead’s flaws. Yeah, Mark fizzled in Yokohama, but boy was she awful.

What’s the point? Having stripped away most of the documentary’s narration and sit-down interviews with Kerr’s family and friends, the film barely explores anyone’s psychology — and Blunt’s railroaded Dawn loses her chance to speak for herself. “I don’t think you know a damn thing about me,” she snipes mid-screaming match. She’s right. We don’t know much about her either, nor any of the noisy things onscreen, from the bloodrush of combat to the pull of their co-dependent affair.

We’re supposed to find depth in Johnson’s weary, pinched grin as he appreciates the sunset on a flight to Japan or watches fans at demolition derby cheer just as loudly for mindless chunks of metal getting crushed. He’s quieter than the real Kerr, who could come across like a guileless chatterbox, and when he does talk, it’s often about the control he must exert on his body and his backyard — the diet, the exercise, the sobriety, the gardening — delivered with the conviction of someone giving motivational advice to the manosphere.

If you squint, there’s an idea here that his personal needs set an unyielding tempo in their home, a notion Johnson must resonate with as someone who sets his morning alarm for 3:30 a.m. But we become better acquainted with how light ripples across Johnson’s shirtless back in a tracking shot than with whatever’s going on in his character’s head. More often than not, we’re just watching him walk around in a skin suit of Kerr, trying and failing not to see the movie star underneath. I wonder if Johnson might have channeled the open-faced Kerr better without the fake eyebrows, if he’d trusted his own inner glow instead of immediately going for the dramatic kill.

Look at how dutifully Safdie and Johnson have worked to re-create this world, the movie seems to be saying. Appreciate the intentionally cruddy camerawork by Maceo Bishop that duplicates Hyams’ low-budget limitations. Enjoy how costume designer Heidi Bivens has put Johnson in another silver-buckled black leather belt similar to the one in his infamous, much-memed Y2K-era photo, the one with the turtleneck, chain jewelry and fanny pack. You know without doing the math that, at this time, 39-year-old Safdie was in his early teens, an age that’s a sweet spot for nostalgia. This is his chance to go back to the future. No wonder he doesn’t want to change a thing.

But “The Smashing Machine” should be about change. For the MMA, this was an era of evolution as it transitioned from a contest of raw strength to one of endurance and skill. Former collegiate wrestlers like Kerr and Coleman could no longer win with their signature ground-and-pound techniques. Organizers forbade several of their key moves as their brusque victories weren’t telegenic. Kerr’s early contests often ended in less than two minutes, an oops-I-missed-it-grabbing-a-beer brevity that would have made pay-per-view buyers grumble. Headbutts were disallowed in part to draw the action out, and also because John McCain didn’t want what he called “human cockfighting” on TV.

These underlying tensions were just coming into focus. The original documentary felt blurry because Hyams didn’t yet know how the off-camera legalities would play out. He would have never guessed that the once-maligned Ultimate Fighting Championship league, purchased in 2001 for $2 million, would become a powerhouse with the clout to ink a $7.7-billion television deal just this summer. He also didn’t know that the cash payments Kerr earned in Japan would be revealed to have the yakuza’s fingerprints on them, or that Kerr’s opioid addiction was start of a burgeoning national health crisis that would soon have America in a chokehold.

Surely, Safdie with his two decades of perspective and his own knack for movies about hard-charging, charismatic screwups like Adam Sandler’s gambling addict Howard Ratner in “Uncut Gems” has something to add? Nope, just tell the same tale twice.

Hyams stopped filming in May 2000, at a point when it appeared that Kerr had chosen love over war. Safdie is aware that Kerr would live on to make more choices and that love doesn’t win, either. But despite the benefit of hindsight, Safdie doesn’t seem to have considered that the old narrative no longer fits. He just updates the title cards on the end: a sentence about Kerr and Dana’s future, a note that today’s MMA stars are better paid, a point undermined by a shot of the actual Kerr climbing into an exorbitantly glossy new truck. Turns out Kerr has been a car salesman for the last 15 years, but you wouldn’t know that leaving “The Smashing Machine.” You wouldn’t know why this movie existed at all.

Ridgemont High, give way to a suburban school near Fort Worth. That’s where the fast times will be this year.

Cooper Lutkenhaus, an incoming junior at Northwest High School in Justin, Texas, was so impressive in setting an age-group world record at the U.S. Track & Field Championships on Sunday that a respected distance running coach and author declared it was “the most impressive athletic feat in history.”

In a social media post, Steve Magness, who wrote “The Science of Running,” said Lutkenhaus’ performance that included passing three of the nation’s fastest men in an electrifying stretch run “makes high school LeBron look like nobody.

“Cooper Lutkenhaus, take a bow.”

Current Lakers star LeBron James, of course, was a prodigy on the basketball court at St. Vincent–St. Mary High School in Akron, Ohio, and went straight to the NBA upon graduating in 2003.

Lutkenhaus, 16, won’t be in school for long, either. He will become the youngest American to compete in the World Athletics Championships when he travels to Tokyo on Sept. 13-21. This time he’ll have no age-group restriction, not after posting the fourth-best time in U.S. history (1:42.27) and nearly catching 800-meter champion Donavan Brazier (1:42.16).

In the waning seconds, Lutkenhaus turned on the jets, going from seventh to second place while passing reigning indoor 800 meter world champion Josh Hoey as well as Olympians Brandon Miller and Bryce Hoppel, all of whom were clustered with Brazier at the front.

Lutkenhaus’ time was the fastest ever for a runner under 18.

“I saw someone coming up and I was like, ‘Dang, this could be the high schooler,’ ” Brazier told reporters. “This kid’s phenomenal. I’m glad that I’m 28 and maybe have a few more years left in me, hopefully won’t have to deal with him in his prime because that dude is definitely special.”

Does wunderkind describe Lutkenhaus? He’s only been running track for three years, and he said his strategy of accelerating over the last quarter of the race was crafted in middle school.

“I’ve always kind of had a natural spot with 200 [meters] to go,” Lutkenhaus told reporters. “Ever since middle school that’s kind of been the spot I’ve really pushed from. Kind of just decided to go back to middle school tactics with 200 to go and really just give everything I had left.”

Less surprising was a late surge by Noah Lyles in the 200 meters that enabled him to pass Kenny Bednarek en route to a world-leading time of 19.63. Lyles might have challenged his personal best American record of 19.31, but as he passed Bednarek with five meters remaining he turned his head and stared down his competitor.

Bednarek retaliated, giving Lyles a shove before they shook hands. Afterward, Bednarek shrugged and chalked up the incident to “Noah is gonna be Noah.”

“If he wants to stare me down, that’s fine,” Bednarek said. “I’m very confident I can beat him. What he said doesn’t matter. It’s just what he did. It’s unsportsmanlike [crap] and I don’t deal with that.”

More drama occurred before championships when Sha’Carri Richardson was arrested and charged with fourth-degree domestic violence a week ago at the Seattle-Tacoma International Airport, according to a police report.

The reigning 100-meter world champion was charged with assaulting her boyfriend, sprinter Christian Coleman, as the couple were going through security. A police officer reviewed camera footage and observed Richardson grab Coleman’s backpack and yank it away, the report said.

Coleman tried to step around Richardson and she pushed him into a wall. Later she appeared to throw headphones at him.

In the report, however, the officer indicated that Colemen “did not want to participate any further in the investigation and declined to be a victim.”

Coleman defended Richardson when asked about the incident at the championships.

“She just has a lot of things going on, a lot of emotions and forces going on inside of her that not only I can’t understand, but nobody can,” he said. “Because she’s one of one.… I know that it’s been a tough journey for her this year. But she’s going to bounce back.

“Like I said, I see it every day. She’s the best female athlete in the world, and she’s going to be just fine. She’s going to be good. I’m going to be good, too.”

Once the racing took place, attention turned to Lutkenhaus. His time bettered the the U18 world record — set by Timothy Kitum of Kenya at the 2012 London Olympics — by 1.1 seconds.

“It is the most mind blowing HS performance in history,” Magness wrote on X. “Any high school phenom in history you can think of? This kid is better. I never thought we’d supplant Jim Ryun as the HS runner GOAT, but a sophomore in HS just did.”

Everton club captain Seamus Coleman has signed a one-year contract extension to take his stay at the club into a 17th season.

The 36-year-old right-back has made 428 appearances for Toffees across all competitions, and his 369 Premier League appearances is the club record.

“I love Everton so to continue playing for this special club means everything to me and my family,” said Republic of Ireland defender Coleman.

“Like every one of our passionate fans, I’ve lived and breathed what has been a difficult past few years for the club and have put my heart and soul into doing all I can to help us get through it.”

Coleman’s previous deal was due to expire last week.

Everton move to the new Hill Dickinson Stadium next season after leaving Goodison Park, their home for 133 years.

“Thanks to the hard work of many people, we’ve been able to get into our magnificent new stadium and pave the way for a brighter future under ambitious new owners, which I want to be part of,” said Coleman

“After a disappointing time with injuries last season, my focus will be on working hard, spending as much time on the pitch as possible, and helping Everton any way I can.”

Coleman made just five league appearances during the 2024-25 campaign as he struggled with various injury issues and notably took interim charge of the side alongside Under-18s coach Leighton Baines after the sacking of Sean Dyche in January.