Solid as a Rock(y)

Rocky Balboa

(PG)

originally published December 27, 2006

Rocky Balboa, the underdog Philadelphian who became two-time World Heavyweight Champion, is one of the most beloved characters in American cinematic history. The American Film Institute ranks the champ seventh on their list of 100 heroes and villains and his first outing is the number four most inspiring film of all time. (On the AFI’s 100 greatest movies of all time, Rocky only rates 78, which is still pretty good.) All of the above facts serve to justify this sixth entry in the Rocky canon, which prior to Rocky V, had never been knocked down. The zeitgeist of the film that KO'd Taxi Driver at the Oscars remains a supreme work of the human condition. Rockys II and III charted the rise and fall - by KO to Mr. T (not as poor a piece of celebrity casting as it might sound) - of the People’s Champion with heart, moxie and Carl Weathers. Rocky IV jingoistically Reaganized Rocky, but the result is stultifying entertainment. Rocky V should be washed from the collective memory, a blemish on Rocky’s otherwise perfect record, and Balboa - not called Rocky VI so as to further distance itself from its immediate predecessor - punchily accomplishes that task. Rocky Balboa sketches a realistically downtrodden-but-not-defeated former champ. Widowed by the death of Adrian to “woman’s cancer,” Rocky runs a restaurant, named in her honor, while visiting her grave so regularly he stashes a chair in a nearby tree. A nostalgic tour of Rocky’s 1976 haunts - the pet store, his old apartment, Mickey’s gym - sets a laughable early tone that writer-director-star Sylvester Stallone soon turns into genuine tenderness as Rocky finds loneliness to be the one opponent he can’t keep on the mat. Brother-in-law Paulie (the wonderful Burt Young) may stop by to bicker and old challenger Spider Rico (the original film's Pedro Lovell) may dine at Adrian’s nightly, but son Robert’s (Milo Ventimiglia) deliberate absence breaks Rocky’s giant heart. A platonic relationship with a minor character from the first film helps Rocky cope, but true relief comes from an unlikely source, a computer-generated bout between Rocky and the current undisputed champion, Mason “The Line” Dixon (Antonio Tarver). With the begrudged blessing of the boxing commission and another awe-inspiring training montage set to “Gonna Fly Now,” Rocky steps back into the squared circle for one final shot at glory, respectability and peace. The same goes for Stallone, who squeezes every last bit of whatever talent and stardom he ever had into Rocky Balboa. He knows this dumb-yet-wise palooka better than anyone, and Rocky is the single performance he always gets flesh-and-blood right. As a director, Stallone relies too much on slow motion to augment the emotion and almost turns the long-awaited final fight into a Gatorade commercial; he should trust himself as a writer more. The bittersweet, reflective Rocky Balboa is a winner, and Rocky is still the champion. Drew Wheeler