When I first heard that Sylvester Stallone wanted to make yet another Rocky film (the sixth in the series that started way back in 1976 and the first new installment since 1990’s Rocky V) I was pretty incredulous. Stallone, now in his 60s, must’ve taken one too many punches to the head during the filming of those first five films, I thought. Reports of audiences hooting and hollering at the pre-release trailers for the film only confirmed my point—or so I thought. Think what you will about Rocky Balboa, but I’d imagine once you see it, you’ll come away with the same feeling I did—that this is arguably the best film in the series since the original.

In its own weird way, Rocky stepping back into the fight game at an age when he would be better served collecting his Social Security benefits and staking out the early bird special at all the local restaurants makes sense. No other “sport” (and I use that term loosely) has the penchant of boxing for luring its legends (whether right or wrong) back into the ring at ages when other athletes would be doing color commentary on ESPN (or looking into the financing of their first Hoveround motorized scooter). Because of this, Rocky is just another George Foreman. And let’s be honest—looking at today’s heavyweight division, does it really seem all that insane that a former great (albeit one significantly past his prime) could come in and beat a serious contender or even the champ?

Besides, the Rocky series has never been about reality (a concept it has only the most fleeting of acquaintances with—witness the fights in these films, where one round sees more haymakers landed than most guys connect on in a career)—it’s always been about dreaming a dream and working toward it until it comes to fruition. In an age where athletes are at best cheaters (Barry Bonds, half of baseball), criminals (the 2006 Cincinnati Bengals), or willing to lie repeatedly to our face (that would be you, Mr. Floyd Landis), Rocky is an anachronism. He trains hard, he doesn’t cheat, and at the end of the day it’s not about winning or losing—it’s all about giving it your best shot.

That Stallone and Balboa (who is, quite literally, the man’s alter ego) are so inextricably linked is almost fitting in this regard. Rocky is the down and out underdog of the sports world, living in relative squalor, running a restaurant, mourning the loss of Adrian, still hanging out with Pauly (Burt Young). Meanwhile, when was the last time you saw Stallone, one of the box office stalwarts of the 1980s, in anything? In some ways, Stallone the actor is a lot like Rocky the boxer—both were once at the top of their game and now they’re each a shadow of their former selves.

However, as has been proven time and time again, America loves its underdogs. Stallone understands this and this is the driving reason behind why people will go see Rocky Balboa and why critics are already giving it excellent marks. In a lot of ways, this is the film that is the first true sequel to the original. The films in between were all burdened with Rocky being the champ (with the exception of part five, which was burdened with a ridiculously bad script)—removing the impossible odds factor dramatically. Sure, each film could trot out a seemingly unwinnable fight for Rocky to triumph in, but the character wasn’t coming from the places he’d had to rise above in the original. In those sequels, Rocky was a manufactured underdog. In Rocky Balboa he’s in the same boat he was in thirty years ago, only older, more world-weary, and with the understanding that boxing isn’t about dishing out abuse but how much you can take.

When a computer simulation decides that Rocky (in his prime) would beat undefeated boxer Mason “The Line” Dixon (Antonio Tarver), promoters see an opportunity to make money. There, just as simple as that, Rocky is lured back from retirement and into the ring. Throw in a training montage and an epic ten round fight and it could be 1976 all over again (although I still miss Burgess Meredith’s crusty old trainer Micky).

Don’t get me wrong—the film is not without flaws. It takes a long time to get going and almost loses the audience at that point with its seemingly endless set-up. It’s also totally predictable (it follows the Rocky formula nearly to the letter) and about as subtle as a roundhouse right to the jaw, but why should we expect anything different? The measure of a man is in his heart—and Rocky Balboa has that by the truckload. It won’t change your life, it won’t win an Oscar, but for 102 minutes it will transport you to a world where dreams can still come true if you simply believe in them and will them into being. If I were a hack critic I’d call it “the feel-good movie of the year”, but instead I’ll simply say that everything old is eventually new again, and in the case of Rocky Balboa, that’s okay with me.


Recommended:
Yes