Rocky Balboa

Rocky Balboa (2006)

Revere Theater, Revere, MA

January 11, 2007

*** / ****

Being Sylvester Stallone must be a trip. Here’s a guy who started his career making a softcore porno film entitled The Party at Kitty and Stud’s. From there he defied the odds and hit it big as the writer and lead actor in Rocky, winning an Oscar and putting in a performance that reminded fabled film-critic Roger Ebert of a young Marlon Brando. Then, over thirty years and four subsequent Rocky installments Stallone maintained his career pretending to be this world-class athlete while meeting unheard of criticism for it as well just about every other Hollywood endeavor he tried his hand (think the Rambo series, Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot, and Judge Dredd, to name a few). Finally, when introduced before a Philadelphia Eagles game a few weeks ago, Stallone received a bigger cheer from the fans in attendance than the Eagles, themselves… and he isn’t even from Philadelphia!

So whom is this Rocky character keeping Stallone in the benjamins and us in the theaters still humming that same silly yet unbelievably inspiring theme song? In Rocky Balboa, the sixth installment in this seemingly immortal franchise, Rocky is once again the everyman trying desperately to go the distance and prove to himself that life “ain't about how hard you hit, it’s about how hard you can get hit and keep moving forward.”

Stallone lets it all hang out this time showing every wart and liver spot. He returns to his past while acknowledging the changing times, something rarely seen in any movie and a fresh and clever device for this film. The aging pugilist fights not because he wants to be champion of the world but because he’s “still got stuff in the basement.” Forget episodes II-V, which for the most part get minimal acknowledgment in this film. Instead, travel with Rocky as he tours his old South Philadelphia stomping grounds revisiting the ghosts that made him, almost broke him, and continue to haunt him. Marvel at the return of the old Rocky from the original, the awkward, funny, introspective Rocco who just wants other people to be nice like he is nice. And talk about introspective: Balboa at 60 is more self-absorbed than even the most typical American teenager. In all ways, watching Rocky Balboa is like a therapy session for both Rocky and Stallone plastered all over the screen for 100 minutes. But no matter, I loved every minute.

When push comes to shove, the more you consider how this final Rocky installment could have gone the more you’ll appreciate that Stallone’s approach is nothing short of perfect. This is a movie about a very real type person looking back on his life and trying to make sense of it all and Stallone expertly captures that journey with precision, accuracy, and grace. Balboa is also about aging and making amends with our changing mind and body, about coming to terms with maturation and the changing times, and most importantly, about finding one’s place in the ever-changing world in which we live. In the film, like real life, we learn that even when one stays in the same place their entire lives it is impossible to escape the world changing around them. And that is Rocky Balboa’s magic: it trades the pretension and calculated cinematics of the other Rocky sequels for a realistic portrait of coming to terms with adulthood and beyond.

Rocky Balboa will surely never win any awards or critical acclaim, but that isn’t its goal. What Rocky Balboa happens to be is a glorious meditation on aging, damn fine entertainment, and a fitting close to one of celluloid’s most lasting and endearing characters: The Man, The Myth, The Italian Stallion. And as Rocky himself might quip, “Hey, yo, there ain’t nothing wrong with that.”