Directed by John G. Avildsen.
Starring Sylvester Stallone, Burgess Meredith, Talia Shire, Burt Young and Carl Weathers.
SYNOPSIS:
Amateur, local underdog boxer Rocky Balboa is awarded a title shot against the World Champion, Apollo Creed. But it’s really a lot, lot more than that.
“You’ve never seen Rocky!?”
No.
“But didn’t you study film at University? How can you never have seen Rocky? I mean, everyone’s seen Rocky.”
I haven’t.
“What about Rocky II? Have you seen that? You haven’t seen that either!? I guess you haven’t seen Rocky III, IV, V or Balboa then?”
No. Have you seen L’Atalante?
“What’s Lattalong?”
L’Atalante. It’s a French film from the early 1930s. It bridges surrealist cinema to poetic realism.
“Nah, I haven’t seen Lattalong. But you should definitely watch Rocky. It’s a great film. You did Film Studies and you’ve never seen Rocky? Oh boy, is that a corker.”
I’ve been subjected to variations of the above conversation for half my life. It’s intensified over the past five years because I’ve since studied film academically. Having done so does not mean I’ve seen every film ever made, but some people refuse to believe that.
L’Atalante is interchangeable with the most obscure, pretentious film I can think of at the time. It’s a pompous retort, but is only ever really an attempt to make the questioner feel as small as I do. I get defensive because I know that I really should have seen Rocky by now…
Rocky (Sylvester Stallone) hardly ever stops talking. The only time he remains quiet is in the ring. Otherwise, his low mumble rarely ceases. He talks to everybody and nobody in particular. He greets his fish, the little sisters of people he knows in the neighbourhood, his old locker. Mostly, however, he speaks to his chest, into it, rather; his eyes cast towards the floor with his hands in his pockets, walking through the run-down streets of Philadelphia at night.
Rocky’s mother told him that he should make best use of his body, ‘cos he ain’t all that smart. That, and because he can’t sing or dance, is why he became a boxer. Not because of a burning passion to fight, although he does appear to enjoy it, but so he can show everyone that he’s actually good at something, that he’s making the most of the hand he’s been dealt. That he ain’t just some bum.
Boxing alone does not support him, so he works as a debt collector for a local loan shark. Even then, he can’t afford much. His apartment is tiny, his bed lumpy. If he had focused on boxing, Rocky’s trainer, Mickey (Burgess Meredith), yells at him, he could have really been something, but Rocky could never catch a break. Until Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers) comes to town.
Creed’s opponent for his World Heavyweight Championship has to withdraw from their fight due to injury. The promoters can’t find a replacement as they say five weeks isn’t long enough to train. Creed suggests he gives an unknown, a local underdog a shot at the title out of, you know, his admiration of the American Dream. And money. Mostly money. Going through Philadelphia’s amateurs, he comes across ‘The Italian Stallion’. Creed digs the name and the fight is made.
Rocky turns up at the fight promoter’s office, invitation in hand, thinking it’s just an application to be one of Creed’s sparring partners. “Can I keep that?” he asks the receptionist as she goes to file the invitation, taking it quickly from her hand before she has a chance to reply. The moment is so naturalistic that it appears improvised. The direction throughout appears this way, as entirely effortless, as though it’s in fact an incredibly intimate documentary. The moment perfectly captures Rocky’s character – his boyish perception of the world, sagging with the knowledge that he’s probably missed his shot.
All this occurs almost half way into the film. Rocky is bookended by boxing matches - one right at the start, one right at the end – but with none in between. It’s because the film concentrates on its characters, those deadbeats who litter Philadelphia’s docks, propping up bars and asleep on the streets outside them; their surroundings – the gym, the pet store, the apartment; the way Rocky interacts with those around him; Adrian.
“What’s the attraction?” Paulie (Burt Young), Rocky’s best friend and Adrian’s older brother bemusedly asks about her. She’s quiet, reads a lot and hardly leaves the house unless it’s for work. She’s a loser, Paulie’s always says. “I dunno…she fills gaps…she’s got gaps, I got gaps. Together we fill gaps,” Rocky surmises in a near-perfect observation on love.
They are complete opposites, but they share a sweetness. Both love animals, but Adrian can’t understand boxing. On their first date, Rocky takes her to a closed ice rink. She skates while he runs alongside her, occasionally slipping. It’s misguided, but strangely charming. “I think we make a real sharp couple of coconuts,” he later tells Adrian. “I’m dumb, you’re shy, whaddaya think, huh?” Rocky isn’t a boxing film. It’s a love story.
But there is boxing involved. The second half focuses on the tortoise and the hare situation that arises between Rocky and Creed. While Rocky’s training becomes more intensive and passionate, Creed gets increasingly more aloof.
There’s a moment near the beginning of the film when Rocky first enters the gym. Unable to open his locker, he puts his glasses on to read the padlock combination he keeps tucked in his hat. You presume he forgets stuff on account of being hit so many times.
His physique appears smaller with them on, so maybe Superman really was on to something. But the difference in Rocky is more than simple appearance. He looks fragile with glasses on, as though a child trying on his father’s suit.
It’s a far cry from the Rocky that later steps into the ring with Creed, after his extensive training. Just before is the montage sequence. There’s a shot of him running, with a normal pace at first, along the docks, the river flowing past behind him. But then he begins to pick up a tremendous speed, and with Bill Conti’s ‘Gonna Fly Now’, you’d believe he was the fastest man alive.
There’s a reason why everyone has seen Rocky, and why they act so bemused if you haven’t. It’s a perfectly observed, naturalistic, underdog story, and one of the greatest films of all time.
RATING *****
Oli Davis
365 Days, 100 Films
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