Rocky

Rocky holds up extraordinarily well.

If you haven’t seen Rocky in a while, you may recall it as a boxing movie.  It’s much more than that, however: it’s the American dream in an hour and a half.  It’s a story about a guy gets his shot and makes the most of it.  It’s a story about compassion, perseverance, and character.  It’s story about finding one’s lodestone.  It’s brilliant.

You know how it goes: Rocky, a semi-pro boxer, works as a small-time collector for a small-time loan shark in hard-times Philadelphia.  Rocky isn’t a very good collector because he lets people off the hook.  He isn’t a very good boxer because nobody has ever taken him under wing and given him the training he needs.  He isn’t good at much, but he is good hearted.  When champion Apollo Creed needs to find a last-minute substitute for an injured opponent, he hits on the idea of fighting a Philadelphian for the bicentennial.  He chooses Rocky based on a one-paragraph description in a boxing digest and offers him the gig.  Rocky thinks he’s being offered a job as a sparring partner.  When he learns that this is a real shot, he takes it.  Cue the training montage.

And it’s great and it’s fabulous and it’ll make your four-year-old try to do one-armed pushups.  But there’s something happening in Rocky to set it apart from other sports fantasy movies.  First, there’s Rocky’s budding relationship with Adrian, the mousy spinster who works at the local pet shop.  Adrian isn’t the beautiful girlfriend of an evil opponent.  Adrian is a delicate shoot whom Rocky cultivates into a magnificent flower, just as Rocky cultivates his opportunity to do something with his life.  Second, there’s Apollo Creed, the Champ.  Apollo isn’t a cruel villain from Conflict 101.  He’s decent and smart and dedicated.  Sure, he treats Rocky lightly – who wouldn’t, in his position?  But the fact that he isn’t a moustache twirler makes Rocky’s story one about overcoming life’s restrictions, not overcoming one man.  Third, there’s Philadelphia itself, a mighty and historic city whose days of industrial-age dominance are long behind it.  We identify not only with underdog Rocky, but with underdog Philly.  It dreams of something better, and perhaps it can make its dreams come true.

These elements work together to make Rocky more than just another aspirational story about an underdog fighting a villain and getting a girl.  They make Rocky universal and inspirational, giving it a power that transcends its era.  The make Rocky about the American dream of finding something within oneself that extends one’s reach, firms one grip, makes the impossible possible.  Rocky isn’t just a boxing movie.  Rocky is a classic.

Rocky II

I saw ROCKY II again.

You know what stood out for me this time? The absolute brilliance of Conti's score. It starts out '70s-funky, then goes all high-Rocky classical during the montage, then seamlessly blends into the tune on his baby's new mobile, then brings in the Wagnerian sensibility during the climactic bout. It is absolutely brilliant, and it makes me want to buy the soundtrack. As long as they leave out Frank Stallone.

As for the rest of the film, it's a bummer for the first two acts, but the third is so uplifting that it makes up for it. Here's the deal: Rocky blows through his fight money in no time, and, before he knows it, he's just another unemployed mook with a baby on the way. Meanwhile, Apollo needs to redeem his performance in his previous fight, and he tries to lure Rocky back into the ring. Rocky demurs and opens a dairy farm in the Swiss Alps.

Just kidding. You know what happens. But it's good stuff, everyone loves those iconic steps, and Stallone knows how to put together a fight scene. And if that doesn't work for you, you can always close your eyes and just listen to the soundtrack. A person can do worse for a couple of hours.

Rocky III

You know the difference between a good friend and a great friend? A good friend gives you all the ROCKY movies for your birthday; a great friend gives you all the ROCKY movies, minus ROCKY V, for your birthday.

ROCKY III has a great beginning: we start with the opening bars of the Bill Conti anthem, then segue into "Eye of the Tiger" for the opening montage that tells us what Rocky's been up to. "Eye of the Tiger" is perfect for dancing with a baby, and it's so catchy that my older boy has been making, "Dvvt. Dvvvvt dvvvvt dvvt." noises for the last three days. ROCKY III is slicker than the two previous entries in the franchise, and this works as a reflection of Rocky's new, slicker life. He's on the covers of magazines. He has a custom tailor and a nice house. He looks like a body builder and not a power lifter. He thinks he has it all together, but Mickey knows better: he's lost his hunger.

Enter Mister T as Clubber Lang, easily the best of Rocky's opponents. He's dedicated, he's tough, he's mean, and he gives the greatest pre-fight interview imaginable:
"What's your prediction for the fight?"
"My prediction?"
"Yes, your prediction."
(Looks into camera)
"Paaaaiiiiinnnnnn!"
Man, I had to rewind that twice.

The film takes us through a crisis of confidence, a training montage that is absolutely out of this world, and an extraordinarily well-choreographed final bout that's a masterpiece of choreography, cinematography, editing, and sound design. If real boxing was half as exciting as a ROCKY movie, I'd watch it all the time.