Bohemian Cinema By Jonathan Pacheco

“Rocky Balboa” (2007)

Directed by Sylvester Stallone

Satisfaction:Thrilled Tags: Rocky, Sports, Sequels

The trumpets blare. We see flashes of boxing matches and hear the crowd chanting his name. The words Rocky Balboa scroll across the screen. Already, we’re pumped.

Rocky (Sylvester Stallone)is an old man running an Italian restaurant when a computer-simulated bout has the Italian Stallion defeating the current Heavyweight Champion of the world, Mason “The Line” Dixon (Antonio Tarver). All of a sudden, everyone’s interest is piqued, including Rocky, who still feels the roaring lion trying to come out. You and I know that Rocky’s a fighter, and “fighters fight.”

Rocky Balboa is Stallone’s sixth directorial effort, but it still feels like there’s a lot of elementary filmmaking going on here. The cinematography is by the books, the editing includes tinted-blue flashbacks, and there’s a sequence that shamelessly employs the Sin City look. It’s as if Stallone took every technique he loved in other films and tossed them all in this flick, so the feel of the film ends up a tad schizophrenic. Yet I know he consciously wanted a simpler look for this one after the big productions of Rocky IV and V, and, anomalies aside, it works for the film; it doesn’t need to be complicated.

Awkward moments are scripted in, especially when Rocky insists on calling Marie (Geraldine Hughes) “Lil’ Marie,” but there are a few scenes where Stallone does shine, believe it or not. The original film gave us a Rocky who was a motor-mouth, charming (in a goofy way), and very silly, but somewhere along the way, he started taking himself too seriously, because I don’t remember this Rocky in the latter films. In Rocky Balboa, we see Rocky making bad jokes, helping people out and even roughing people up, and it feels like the Rocky I fell in love with. He also has a few good speeches that I was pleasantly surprised to see delivered in a fitting manner.

Rocky’s son Robert (Milo Ventimiglia of Heroes) is against his dad’s return to the ring, and goes so far as to beg his dad not to go through with it, belittling his dad’s dream. Rocky comes back with a speech that, had it been played too sentimentally or self-consciously (as in past Rocky films), it would have been excruciating. Instead, it’s played with anger, as Rocky lets out his frustration, and points out his disappointment, not in his son, but in his sons actions; he knows that blaming others for your own problems is beneath Robert. It felt like a smart way to perform a speech that walked a thin line, and the result impressed me.

But what impressed me the most about Rocky Balboa is that, even though I pretty much knew what was going to happen (or at least think I knew), I couldn’t help but get gripped. I was anxious, excited, and a little emotional. Is some of it nostalgia? Sure. But a lot of it is that we’ve come to know and love this character over the years, and we know what he stands for. Rocky’s an American icon, and one of the most beloved and Stallone puts Rocky in a situation that lets us care again (did anyone care in Rocky III?).

The film definitely wears its heart on its sleeve, but then again, the character of Rocky has always done the same, and we love him for it. It had seemed that Stallone had ended Rocky’s story with the fifth film—an unworthy conclusion. So just as Rocky tells us that he still has “stuff in the basement,” I believe Stallone felt the same way, hence making this film. And just as the point of Rocky Balboa is that Rocky wants one more shot to end things on his terms, Stallone ends the Rocky franchise the way he wants to: with no shame.

With this last effort, Stallone explores what it really means to be a man; he believes that men today have lost the fire that drives them, and the will that makes them brave physical dangers. You don’t have to pay too much attention to notice that most of the young men in this film are scrawny cubicle drones, including Rocky’s own kid. The old man worries about his kid and warns him not to let all the numbers drive him crazy, to which his son replies, “Too late.” The film calls for men to get away from their cubicles and computers, from their lazy and idle nature, and to be “baptized by fire.”

Through Rocky Balboa, Stallone points out the lack of warriors in our day. When we see our first glimpses of a boxing match, we are told that the World Heavyweight Champion has been spoon-fed his opponents, and that the professional boxing world is almost dead. Right off the bat, Stallone sets the stage by presenting a metaphor for our modern world—a world of convenience and no challenges. The warriors of 300 would laugh at our “gladiators”; the modern man is practically a cupcake.

I find Rocky Balboa to be a much better “Guy Movie” than 300, because, while the latter was merely a glorification of violence, spectacle, and insane abs, Stallone’s film attempts to explore why we should fight, and it’s not a simple cliché like “country.” At times, Rocky cries, and it’s okay, not because he’s a “sensitive male” by today’s standards, but because he has passion. He has a longing to prove himself. He’s had his championship, his honor, and his life taken away from him, and now he feels like less of a man. It’s almost as if Rocky was once baptized into manhood (in the first film; after all, the opening shot was of a painting of Christ), but through what he was dealt in life, he lost it. Before he goes out, Rocky is determined to be re-baptized and reborn (there’s even a shot in the film that symbolizes that process).

I admire all the heart that’s on display here, and I admire that Stallone is unashamed to show it. It’s something I can respect, and it’s something that can overshadow a lot of shortcomings that he may have as a writer and director. It’s nowhere near a “perfect film,” and I wouldn’t even call it a “great film,” but I’ve already seen Rocky Balboa twice, and I plan on watching it again.