Here's what one could call an unnecessary film: a fifth sequel to the 1976 original which it virtually remakes, recycling almost the full roster of characters (including Little Marie and Spider Rico who share a combined two minutes of screen time in Rocky, but now return as full-fledged, pivotal characters), reusing several sets (Mickey's gym, the pet store, the ice rink...) while cramming in an ungodly amount of nostalgic flashbacks. Nonetheless, the whole process makes perfect sense in legendary Sylvester Stallone's master plan to make amends for his inferior sequels of the late 1980s and to reflexively ponder on his own state as aging champion. Using his enviable position in Hollywood (due to the fact that he remains a marketable star), the 60-year old actor/writer/director invites us on a trip down memory lane undertook to end the series he originated in his own terms, thus starting a therapeutic process that he pursued with his final Rambo (2008), and with which he aspires to write his own epitaph and happily intone the swan song of his glorious career. As the march of time carried on, old wounds must've soured, prompting Sly to reflect on four particular mistakes: Rambo II (1985), Rocky IV (1985), Rambo III (1988) Rocky V (1990), which he felt he had to correct in order to polish his legacy and rejoice millions of fans disgruntled by such loose ends. Luckily, the cunning old fox (much smarter than many people give him credits for) would not be satisfied with anything but full earnestness and heart, which both Rocky Balboa (2006) and Rambo (2008) have in spades. And again I am filled with admiration for this exemplary American and indelible film icon that is Stallone.
Rocky Balboa is a trip down memory lane.
Right from its first moments, this new Rocky stirs up old memories. The old boxer wakes up alone, and with his usual candor, distributes seeds and candy to the birds. His modest house is located smack in the middle of his old Philly neighborhood, where everything started for him: the hired goon business, his friendship with Paulie, his puppy love for Adrian, and most of all, his boxing career. Now, things have changed, and they have changed for the worst. Adrian is dead (of "woman cancer", which is mentioned only in passing), Rocky is estranged from his only son, lost fruit of their undying love, the skating rink where they first dated has been destroyed, and the whole neighborhood is wasting away along with the people in it. But there's nothing to bring Rock down as he brandishes an unwavering optimism like a remedy to the world's aches. In reality, there's nothing that this abundantly generous man wouldn't do to bring a little warmth and consideration to the disenfranchised poor of his old neighborhood. To the dead Adrian, he offers a local eatery, which he lovingly names after her. To old adversary Spider Rico (real-life boxer Pedro Lovell), he offers food and shelter. To Little Marie he offers a job and some help raising her son Steps, with whom he rescues scrawny old dog Punchy from a local shelter. But deep down, there is a beast inside him that needs to be put to rest, a fire raging on that needs to be extinguished. It is the desire to step back into the ring once more and to exorcize the many demons haunting him, namely the death of his one and only love, the general decay of his old neighborhood and his estrangement with a son who would rather live outside of the large shadow cast by his father.
On the other side of existence, an undefeated young boxer shares his angst. Although he has everything money can buy, current undisputed heavyweight champion Mason Dixon is lacking an adversary strong enough to help develop his full potential. Inside his young heart, there lies a fire similar to Rocky's which must be extinguished in order for him to find peace. The central narrative uniting the two revolves around a computer-simulated fight that sees Rocky knocking Dixon out cold. Sensing an opportunity to cash-in on the buzz generated by that "cartoon fight", Dixon's sleazy manager decides to organize an exhibition match against the recently licensed Balboa. The fight is supposed to be a simple way for Dixon to regain credibility and win back fans through the intermediary of the much more popular Rocky. It is supposed to be a walk in the park as the champ is half the age of his opponent, twice as fast and equally tough. But if the previous five films in the series have taught us anything, it's that you can never count Rocky out. By training like a mad man, amongst old friends (Paulie and Apollo Creed's ex-coach Duke) and new friends (son Robert, Little Marie, Steps, Punchy), everybody's favorite champion gets in the best shape he can manage and prepares to step back into the ring and make everything right, regaining his own self-respect and helping Dixon find his while securing the love and respect of his son. But most of all, making us shiver with excitement against our brains' will. Just like he did back in the USSR...
On the other side of existence, an undefeated young boxer shares his angst. Although he has everything money can buy, current undisputed heavyweight champion Mason Dixon is lacking an adversary strong enough to help develop his full potential. Inside his young heart, there lies a fire similar to Rocky's which must be extinguished in order for him to find peace. The central narrative uniting the two revolves around a computer-simulated fight that sees Rocky knocking Dixon out cold. Sensing an opportunity to cash-in on the buzz generated by that "cartoon fight", Dixon's sleazy manager decides to organize an exhibition match against the recently licensed Balboa. The fight is supposed to be a simple way for Dixon to regain credibility and win back fans through the intermediary of the much more popular Rocky. It is supposed to be a walk in the park as the champ is half the age of his opponent, twice as fast and equally tough. But if the previous five films in the series have taught us anything, it's that you can never count Rocky out. By training like a mad man, amongst old friends (Paulie and Apollo Creed's ex-coach Duke) and new friends (son Robert, Little Marie, Steps, Punchy), everybody's favorite champion gets in the best shape he can manage and prepares to step back into the ring and make everything right, regaining his own self-respect and helping Dixon find his while securing the love and respect of his son. But most of all, making us shiver with excitement against our brains' will. Just like he did back in the USSR...
As usual, Rocky is not about subtlety. Far from it. It's about crude melodrama that forages through your ribcage like a creaky old drill with endless, life-affirming speeches by the worn-out old champ, syrupy music, lovable little folks and nostalgic flashbacks galore. In the end, your brain has become so mushy from these repeated attempts against its cartesian superiority that it finally gives in and leaves control of your body to your aching heart, which magnetically adheres to Sly's irresistible brand of corn. But Rocky is much more than that. It's also witty humor, engrossing training montages and exhilarating, wholly unrealistic fight scenes featuring tireless combatants who can endure the pain of 200+ landed shots to the face without flinching. In short, it is no more than a formula for button-pushing. But it is a damn good one, one which is wholly Sly's, one which has won underdog Rocky an Oscar (against vastly superior films such as Taxi Driver and All the President's Men) back in 1976* and since inspired three generations of bright-eyed moviegoers.
And while you may love or loathe these kinds of films, you can't deny the fact that they still inspire people, helping them in their lives and making them happy, singing songs to themselves, beating the air with their fists and rejoicing in their most humble achievements... That's what really matters. Technical excellence or fine narrative construction has nothing to do with the popularity of such films, and although they may not possess these qualities, they lack not what matters in their own quest for your spectatorship, that is a generous heart whose beat is contagious. Not unlike the Star Wars films, the Rocky films did not need to be good in order to earn their rightful place in pop culture because they talk a universal language, the language of the heart, which finds its expression in the most obvious of dramatic devices, the most syrupy of orchestral music and the corniest of lines. Because although old Rocko's uplifting monologues about life, about how you don't need to owe someone to receive something, about how you must stand up for yourself and keep moving forward despite adversity, never blaming others for one's own shortcomings, although these might sound dated to death, they speak universal truths nonetheless and they can help people rise up from their apathy and find meaning in their day-to-day lives.
Yesterday, I was watching Rocky Balboa with a friend my age (who had never seen a Rocky film, if you can believe that) and at one point, after the Stallion gave a heartwarming speech to his son about personal responsibility and self-respect, he asked: "Does Rocky have any character flaw at all?" to which I answered: "No. And that's just the way we love him". Indeed, Rocky doesn't have any character flaw; he is good incarnate. But what's wrong with filling the big screen with such sparkling humanism? Seeing a heart-warming and naive hulk helping his fellowman, being good to the needy, helping local businesses and providing jobs for the unemployed; there's nothing wrong with that. Hence, Sly gives us much more than many philanthropists, he gives us hopes and dreams which everyone can use. His humanism is such that he can even make the antagonists of his films out to be good people despite their excessive cockiness and how they beat up on the protagonist without mercy. Thus Apollo Creed finds his reflection in Mason Dixon, both of whom are great athletes and great men, deserving not a thrashing, but rather some help to reach their potential and become more humble, caring individuals. Truly, Sly is a gold bar, with many golden rings, but also a golden heart. And he will remain an undying star in the dark Hollywood sky for as long as people will believe in the magic of melodrama.
And while you may love or loathe these kinds of films, you can't deny the fact that they still inspire people, helping them in their lives and making them happy, singing songs to themselves, beating the air with their fists and rejoicing in their most humble achievements... That's what really matters. Technical excellence or fine narrative construction has nothing to do with the popularity of such films, and although they may not possess these qualities, they lack not what matters in their own quest for your spectatorship, that is a generous heart whose beat is contagious. Not unlike the Star Wars films, the Rocky films did not need to be good in order to earn their rightful place in pop culture because they talk a universal language, the language of the heart, which finds its expression in the most obvious of dramatic devices, the most syrupy of orchestral music and the corniest of lines. Because although old Rocko's uplifting monologues about life, about how you don't need to owe someone to receive something, about how you must stand up for yourself and keep moving forward despite adversity, never blaming others for one's own shortcomings, although these might sound dated to death, they speak universal truths nonetheless and they can help people rise up from their apathy and find meaning in their day-to-day lives.
Yesterday, I was watching Rocky Balboa with a friend my age (who had never seen a Rocky film, if you can believe that) and at one point, after the Stallion gave a heartwarming speech to his son about personal responsibility and self-respect, he asked: "Does Rocky have any character flaw at all?" to which I answered: "No. And that's just the way we love him". Indeed, Rocky doesn't have any character flaw; he is good incarnate. But what's wrong with filling the big screen with such sparkling humanism? Seeing a heart-warming and naive hulk helping his fellowman, being good to the needy, helping local businesses and providing jobs for the unemployed; there's nothing wrong with that. Hence, Sly gives us much more than many philanthropists, he gives us hopes and dreams which everyone can use. His humanism is such that he can even make the antagonists of his films out to be good people despite their excessive cockiness and how they beat up on the protagonist without mercy. Thus Apollo Creed finds his reflection in Mason Dixon, both of whom are great athletes and great men, deserving not a thrashing, but rather some help to reach their potential and become more humble, caring individuals. Truly, Sly is a gold bar, with many golden rings, but also a golden heart. And he will remain an undying star in the dark Hollywood sky for as long as people will believe in the magic of melodrama.
Surrounded by old friends and new, old Rock manages to last
ten rounds against a much younger, much quicker version of himself.
While Stallone may not be a great, and especially not an original filmmaker, he has managed to elevate his craft a bit in recent years by using self-reference to reflect on his career, and on time passing by. Being an action star can be tough, but being an aging action star is tougher and he seems to think a lot about this these days. With the latest Rocky he ties his own faith with that of aging sports stars, people who share with him the cruel burden of a career bearing an expiration date. And this is not the only parallel to be made between his own life and life as he pictures it onscreen. There is actually a trinity of decrepitude within Rocky Balboa: that of the Stallion, that of Stallone, and that of the Philly slums where the story takes place. All three have been mistreated by life and their former glory has all but vanished to memory. Yet they all still bear the spark of life, and thus the possibility of greatness which arises only through the cultivation of "high hopes" (which is the song selected by nostalgic Paulie as Rocky's theme song for his final bout). Here, Stallone's comeback finds its reflection in Rocky's and all his talk about the need to "let the beast out" by fighting one last time. This is a transparent allusion to Sly's desire to do it all again, buffing up for a role and reprising a lovable old skin for just one last time. But before he can make his triumphant return to the ring, Rocky faces the distress of age, of seeing his pleasant memories turn to pure nostalgia and his body turn to mush. Hence, the broken-down neighborhood surrounding him finds echo in his sore bones which are similarly wasting away. Reflecting on this, Rocky remarks: "Ya know they always say if you live in one place long enough, you are that place". Again, needlessly transparent introspection but necessary introspection nonetheless as all this applies to the author as well. Then there's the dog that Rocky, and new friend Steps, "bail out" from the pound and which is basically yet another metaphoric double of the aging boxer. When Rocky remarks that "with careful attention and some new friends", "there's still a lot of good mileage on that dog", he's basically talking about himself again, spelling it out in all-caps for the viewer who is hooked nonetheless, not by the transparent metaphor, but by Sly's heartwarming praise of old age.
You see, this entire project, all that talk about "letting the beast out", this all serves a single, yet crucial purpose: to help both star and protagonist evade the shackles of nostalgia that tend to ground all too many of us to an empty life of chasing old dreams and subsequently compromising the future. Thus, if Rocky starts out as a purely nostalgic figure, endlessly repeating his tired old boxing stories to his patrons, celebrating every anniversary of Adrian's death by pathetically revisiting the key places where their love developed, he eventually manages to escape his nostalgic shell by severing the chain tying him to a dead but painfully beautiful past in order to become his own man once more. And he does so the only way he can: by doing it one last time, but doing it properly, reuniting with his son, who represents his future and not rotting away with his dead wife, who represents the nostalgic past. The entire film is constructed around this opposition between nostalgia and forward-thinking. Which is why it begins by reusing characters and sets from the first film while setting the final fight in glittering Las Vegas. Seeing Mickey's old gym, the skating rink and the pet store from the original all battered up and ruined by time and the cruelty of life may bring you down at first, but it's all part of Sly's irresistible return to form. Because, as the Stallion so rightfully puts it: life is cruel and it will always keep you pinned to the ground, but only if you let it. And thus he decides to fight again, and we immediately find him in a completely new, and exciting world: the contemporary world of boxing as spectacle where his catharsis can take place and where he can be reunited with his fans, both those in the stands around him and those in the seats of the theater. At first, you will be very surprised to witness the snazzy fireworks celebrating the fighters' entrance in the ring for the climactic bout. And you will be even more surprised to see a timer bearing the HBO PPV logo pop up in the lower right corner of the screen. The truth is we aren't stagnating in nostalgia anymore. Rocky has leapt from outside the diegetic world and crossed the boundary into the real world. At this point, him and Sly have finally become one and, carried by thunderous cheer, they both give the best of themselves, one last time, for us, for them, for everybody who still can be moved by the magic of film as popular entertainment.
You see, this entire project, all that talk about "letting the beast out", this all serves a single, yet crucial purpose: to help both star and protagonist evade the shackles of nostalgia that tend to ground all too many of us to an empty life of chasing old dreams and subsequently compromising the future. Thus, if Rocky starts out as a purely nostalgic figure, endlessly repeating his tired old boxing stories to his patrons, celebrating every anniversary of Adrian's death by pathetically revisiting the key places where their love developed, he eventually manages to escape his nostalgic shell by severing the chain tying him to a dead but painfully beautiful past in order to become his own man once more. And he does so the only way he can: by doing it one last time, but doing it properly, reuniting with his son, who represents his future and not rotting away with his dead wife, who represents the nostalgic past. The entire film is constructed around this opposition between nostalgia and forward-thinking. Which is why it begins by reusing characters and sets from the first film while setting the final fight in glittering Las Vegas. Seeing Mickey's old gym, the skating rink and the pet store from the original all battered up and ruined by time and the cruelty of life may bring you down at first, but it's all part of Sly's irresistible return to form. Because, as the Stallion so rightfully puts it: life is cruel and it will always keep you pinned to the ground, but only if you let it. And thus he decides to fight again, and we immediately find him in a completely new, and exciting world: the contemporary world of boxing as spectacle where his catharsis can take place and where he can be reunited with his fans, both those in the stands around him and those in the seats of the theater. At first, you will be very surprised to witness the snazzy fireworks celebrating the fighters' entrance in the ring for the climactic bout. And you will be even more surprised to see a timer bearing the HBO PPV logo pop up in the lower right corner of the screen. The truth is we aren't stagnating in nostalgia anymore. Rocky has leapt from outside the diegetic world and crossed the boundary into the real world. At this point, him and Sly have finally become one and, carried by thunderous cheer, they both give the best of themselves, one last time, for us, for them, for everybody who still can be moved by the magic of film as popular entertainment.
Keeping in line with this idea of nostalgia confronted with forward-thinking, Stallone makes a surprisingly smart usage of the flashbacks contained within the film, showing them to be an integrant part of Rocky's thought process during his progression from backwards-looking nostalgic to liberated hero. No longer do we have to suffer the lengthy montages of flashbacks which ruined Rocky IV since Sly, as I mentioned earlier, has grown much smarter with age and is now using a much more subtle, slightly more advanced technique of tear-inducing manipulation. At first, he uses these lively memories to give a second life to the broken-down sets that the former champ revisits in the first part of the film. Thankfully, these memories do not take the shape of flashbacks per se, but rather that of brief super-impositions meant to simulate the presence of ghosts roaming the Earth, trapping the protagonist into a life of nostalgic self-pity. Later during the film, these flashbacks are used in a sharply contrasting way, one that makes Rocky's evolution obvious and contributes its fair share to the exhilarating final fight montage. While standing toe to toe with Mason Dixon, and receiving quite a beating, the Stallion's memories come back to aid him in the form of quick flashes appearing onscreen, illustrating his accelerated thought process through frenzied editing. These flashes represent all the reasons Rocky has to fight, they fuel him, and cause the collision of all three parallel story lines (that of Sly, Rocky, and of Philly) into one single, uppercut-strong conclusion to the celebrated director/actor/writer/boxer's career. It allows the Stallion to dig deep one last time and keep standing, leaving the ring (and the screen) under a rain of exhilarated cheers from the massive crowd gathered around him, having let the beast out and conquered the nostalgic demons plaguing him. Just like the stunned spectators amassed in Las Vegas to see the fight, the film spectators will witness here one truly grandiose final apparition by Sly as Balboa and his image will thus be forever frozen in a stance of humble excellence.
Whether Sly used only power-lifting or steroids to buff-up,
I still congratulate him on for his outstanding work ethic.
As far as acting goes, things are fine as usual, due mostly to the fact that the two main actors (Sly and Burt Young) have lived and breathed Rocky for thirty years. You also have to consider the fact that the Italian Stallion (which is the name of a 1970 porno in which the author played) was Sly's brainchild from the get-go. Everything the character has done since he was born was his own making. He probably envisioned himself playing every scene while writing. The big guy's innocence, his childish candor and idiocy within his huge, humbling build are typically Stallone's. These features are what made him so beloved amongst film audiences, and these are things that will never die, even amidst many uneven narratives. As for Sly managing to stay in game shape despite his age, it's truly incredible. Whether he used steroids to do it or not is no concern of mine, and even if he did, I wouldn't hold it against him. I mean, he wasn't planning on capturing a real sporting achievement here (like, oh, let's say... Barry Bonds). What he did was only for appearances, and that's called acting: putting your body in harm's way over a role. This is something worthy of praise, not criticism. There exists a similar debate as to whether actors who portray smoking characters should actually learn to smoke or merely pretend to. Personally, I think that they should learn to do it, learn to inhale properly. That is the only way to adequately portray such characters. I haven't seen Rachel Getting Married (2008) wherein Anne Hathaway plays a chain-smoking drug-addict but I've been told that she simply cannot smoke, which I think she should, especially considering the nature of her character. In the Vietnamese action film Clash (2009), actor Johnny Nguyen (of The Protector (2005) fame) plays a chain-smoking bad boy, but he does not inhale, which I thought was ridiculous in the context of the film. Cigarette-smoking issues aside, there's also that of weight-loss. Christian Bale is a great actor in that regards, seeing how he seems to gain/lose weight at will. For The Machinist (2004), he reportedly lost 63 pounds, which is totally unhealthy, but nonetheless worthy of praise. If Stallone indeed took steroids to beef up, then fine. It makes for a much-more believable Rocky and it also acts as a sign of his complete willingness to remain in character. Sly is not a sports star, I repeat, he is not a sports star. The appreciation of his work should not be based solely on the honesty of his physical effort, but on that of his acting effort, which is pretty good here.
All in all, Rocky Balboa is not a great film, far from it, but it's an honest film, and an honest attempt by Sly to give his breakthrough character the exit he deserves. If he is able to make peace with his fans along the way, it's great, but this final chapter mostly serve a very personal role, that of allowing the venerable filmmaker to look back on what he has learned throughout the years and use his arduously-acquired wisdom to the best of its potential. Just like the old champ making an unlikely come-back, Sly has jumped back in the director's chair (which he had left after Rocky IV back in 1985) to show his worth once more during a whole new era of filmmaking. And just like his titular character (which he celebrates by fully naming), he passes the test with flying colors and receives renewed cheers from an always loyal crowd.
3/5 This conventional melodrama benefits from Sly's life-affirming, and renewed outlook on life as well as his generous offering of all the elements that made the Rocky series great.
*I mention in passing about how All the President's Men and Taxi Driver are superior to Rocky and I stand by that, although I must also admit that the latter film was much more influential worldwide than the former two. Still, there's this question that often arises with bitter passion within scholarly circles: Why did Rocky win over Taxi Driver? Personally, I am convinced that it pertains to the celebrated American Dream, or the philosophy of 'the lucky ticket' as explained by Theodor Adorno and Max Horkheimer in their essay, The Culture Industry: Enlightenment as Mass Deception. After all, Rocky is all about the lucky ticket, that free pass which miraculously gives equal opportunities to an anonymous bum from the slums. If you remember correctly, the Stallion is picked almost at random by Apollo Creed and then immediately given a title shot for the Heavyweight Championship. He does not have to climb the ladder to become the challenger but is instead offered the opportunity on a silver platter. Which is what the American Dream is all about. Hard work has nothing to do with it. Only the presence of God-given opportunities matters. Hence, the message conveyed in the original Rocky is that anybody can make it big in the US granted that the wheel of fortune picks them out of the millions of others suffering the same condition. Which is why Rocky III is, and will forever remain my favorite film of the series, for it sees a truly worthy challenger step into the ring, defeat the Stallion and force him to realize a crucial truth, namely that one must create his own opportunities in life and not wait for instantaneous title shots.
