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. With his namesake son (Milo Ventimiglia) busy trying to establish a separate, 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" Dixon (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, Dixon's manager sees how to revitalize his client's image, all of which dovetails with 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 Las Vegas.

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). He also, in dialogue that 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 Philadelphia, 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 Hollywood 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.)