THE ENDURANCE, RESOLUTENESS AND UTTER PREDICTABILITY OF THE ROCK

Why the interchangeability of Dwayne Johnson’s roles are his greatest strength Justine Smith

When you go see a film starring Dwayne “The Rock” Johnson, you know exactly what you are going to get: whether he’s a firefighter or a dad, he is a force of over-the-top masculinity and an agent for moral good. Even in comedies, there is a familiarity that sets up an audience to get exactly what they expect, a reliable comfort in our dark and unstable world. Johnson is a real-life He-Man, a larger-than-life cartoon, ready to save the day on and offscreen.

Coming from professional wrestling, character is everything, so it makes sense that the line between the performer’s onscreen and offscreen persona would be so blurred. His brand is big: he’s an eagle wrapped in an American flag, riding a tank and rescuing all who need his assistance. As of this summer, he might be the biggest movie star in the world.

Since he’s so gosh-darn lovable, we seem to be giving him a pass on one of the most common ways we judge an actor: their versatility. Even his most ardent fans would have to admit that The Rock has played the same character in every single movie he’s been in for the past five years. It doesn’t matter if he’s running in slow-mo in Baywatch, running across town to save his family in San Andreas, or running around the jungle in Jumanji, with a few little tweaks, it is the same exact performance every single time.

But instead of a drawback, herein lies Johnson’s charm. A large part of his appeal, from as far back as his full-time wrestling duties, has been found in his knowing wink (or raised eyebrow) that all of it – wrestling, acting, social media – is just a game. Unlike past bastions of exaggerated masculinity like Jean-Claude Van Damme or Steven Seagal, Johnson carries a self-awareness that bleeds into all his roles. He seems to know Hollywood acting is a very silly way to make a living, and his humility – again, genuine or fictitious – suggests he’s conscious of his good fortune. He has incredible intuition as an entertainer, but this sensibility extends beyond the screen. Johnson possesses a deep understanding that Hollywood acting doesn’t end when the cameras stop rolling.

Just take a look at his role in the Fast and the Furious franchise, which has been plagued by rumours of behind-the-scenes rivalries. Back in 2016, Johnson posted a since-deleted Instagram where he called certain members of the cast “Candy Asses,” an insult popular during his wrestling days. Should actual bad blood exist, it is being treated as entertainment, an extension of the onscreen spectacle where Vin Diesel and Johnson consistently compete for alpha supremacy. While the details and tone may change, this pattern runs through most of Johnson’s films.

As do the characters he portrays. The predictability, here, is the point. The persona that Johnson has created is one of a protector. He represents the very best of the American dream – a self-made man ready to lay it all on the line for the ones he cares about. Can a star image be repetitive, but also worthy of praise? Of any contemporary actor, Johnson might be the poster child for how “shut off your brain entertainment” can be great.

While there are classic Hollywood stars to which you can compare to Johnson, none have ever attained the sense of familiarity he breeds with his fans through his funny – and often inspirational – social media accounts. Whether he’s keeping it tight with his 5 a.m. fitness sessions or getting lovelorn sad-boys dates on social media, The Rock’s online presence is an integral part of his ongoing performance as a star.

Sure. It’s easy to roll your eyes at his teasing a run for president or his speech at the Republican National Convention, but it is difficult to discount that he mostly uses his platform for good. His frank discussion of mental health, including his own battle with depression and his mother’s suicide attempt, has probably done more good for the world than any single film released in the past 10 years. Even in 2018, the fact that the world’s greatest standard for masculinity, a rippling tank of a man, would cry on Oprah feels radical.

As easy as it is to be absolutely cynical about the state of popular cinema – and, by extension, popular culture – in 2018, it is difficult not to look forward to whatever Johnson does next. His screen presence is remarkably comforting. Yes, we know full well that Skyscraper is just Die Hard meets Towering Inferno, a Frankenstein monster disaster film where Johnson’s character will surely triumph, but we still want it to be good. We want to walk out of the cinema feeling as though we’ve been saved, cradled in The Rock’s large thunderstick arms.

While it all might be a perfectly calculated show, a tour-de-force of exceptional branding, Johnson is the best and brightest thing popular cinema has to offer. While we want to imagine a world where the art of cinema is used to alter lives and radically challenge our perspectives, there is nothing wrong with finding some comfort and familiarity in a theatre from time to time. Every Johnson role might be interchangeable, and while we may not have a very good idea where The Rock’s persona and person begin and end, would we really want it any other way? This is, after all, what makes Dwayne Johnson so great.