Note: this is a belated posting of a review of Rocky Balboa, redacted, edited and tweaked from its original publication in Screen International.
Sixteen years since the last installment,
multi-hyphenate Sylvester Stallone delivers Rocky
Balboa, a stirring and pleasingly grounded tale of an erstwhile
underdog-turned-champion coming to terms with his own
aging. The most emotionally resonant film in the iconic series since the
Oscar-winning 1976 original, it also showcases by far Stallone’s
best performance in years.
While its boxing action is
acutely observed, this is first and foremost a firmly rooted character drama,
which may befuddle more gung-ho genre fans. Theatrical receipts hinge on not
only the adult audiences that have aged with Rocky returning for this one last
encore, but also young, new audiences intrigued by the character’s legend and
boomers not necessarily predisposed to Rocky
movies.
Leaving intact his humble
financial stature but ignoring some of the more dire health predictions of Rocky V, the movie finds
by-his-own-bootstraps boxing champ Rocky recast as a modest restaurateur,
telling patrons the same old war stories and kindheartedly feeding a former,
down-on-his-luck opponent for free.
professional career track for himself, Rocky leads a pretty lonely life, kept
company only by his irascible brother-in-law Paulie
(Burt Young). That starts to change a bit when Rocky meets single mother Marie
(Geraldine Hughes), an old girl from his neighborhood.
Back in the ring, Mason “The
Line”
(Antonio Tarver) is the current undisputed heavyweight champion, but a fan
favorite he is not. Cold rather than charismatic, he’s a victim of his own
success and a lack of worthy competition. After a computer simulation on a
cable talk show pits the two fighters against one another,
a reticent Rocky‘s desire to entertain a few local
exhibition bouts. A quick solicitation of Rocky and one brisk training montage
later, the table is set for a third act showdown in
As it wore on, the Rocky series often dipped into macho
posing, but Rocky Balboa delivers a
very basic and relatable tale that — to its great credit — could easily be
envisioned without the boxing. In a rather savvy and smartly structured
screenplay, Stallone deftly captures the awkwardness of Rocky‘s
relationship with his son (“You throw a long shadow,” says Junior).
sometimes amusingly indulges Rocky‘s
characteristically circuitous logic, does a good job of writing realistically
to the level of his blue-collar character; skating just around clichés, Rocky
speaks in elliptical, working man chestnuts, and their
depth of feeling and unaffectedness ring true, and quickly re-establish a strong
audience identification with him.
It’s Stallone’s melancholic,
well-worn performance, however, that most capably sells the movie. Reminiscent
of many other Stallone vehicles, there is still the scene in Rocky Balboa where he stands up to
random, mouthy jerks, only here it’s tinged with a palpable sadness that
highlights Rocky‘s humanity. It’s but one example of
how the movie trades in practical payoffs (acquaintance rather than newfound
love, measured successes rather than huge victories) instead of pompous
narrative grandstanding.
Shot chiefly, like the other
films in the series, in
Rocky Balboa
exudes a working class
grittiness that further enables its story. While not a reinvention of
the
wheel, the boxing sequences are extremely well done, with announcer Jim
Lampley and a crazed ringside cameo from former heavyweight
fighter Mike Tyson lending authenticity to the proceedings. The angles
and
lighting are just right, and not a
put-on, like too many sports films.
Underscoring the film’s inspirational
emotional appeal is an end credit sequence reprisal of composer Bill Conti’s
legendary theme. Set to real-life, modern day footage of kids and adults
alike running up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art, it mirrors the
famed training sequence from the original Rocky
that has served as one of the series’ calling cards ever since. (MGM/Columbia, PG-13, 100 mins.)