This film’s backstory is almost as famous, and almost as movie-worthy, as the storyline of the film itself. Sylvester Stallone, a total unknown, almost forced to sell his dog due to not being able to afford to keep him, gets offered $350,000 for the rights to a script he has written. He turns it down, saying he will only sell the story if he can play the lead role. Who of us would be brave enough to do that? A triumph of self-belief that more than matches anything in the film (especially as his character, Rocky Balboa, is utterly plagued by self-doubt), this decision was proved utterly correct. Nobody could watch this and deny that Stallone IS Rocky, and that it is doubtful anyone else could have played it better. He mumbles his way through the film, about a nothing boxer, given a random shot at the world title, when the Champ’s opponent withdraws and a fight has to be arranged for the Fourth of July, a fight to encapsulate the American Dream, where anybody can be given a shot at the bigtime. The Champion hits on Rocky’s nickname, the Italian Stallion, and so the film focuses on one man’s fight with his own doubts, his own fears, and the chance to finally make something of himself.
He isn’t even thinking in terms of the traditional underdog. He has no aspirations of winning, but of merely going the distance and not being humiliated. There’s a simple realism to Rocky that is utterly lost in the sequels (there aren’t many films whose inferior sequels tarnished their reputation in quite such a way as Rocky. Most people who have seen the later ones, and disliked them, would never think to pay any attention to the first, but it’s an entirely different film. There’s not much fighting in it, for a start. It focuses far more on the man, his situation, and especially his burgeoning relationship with his friend’s sister, the strangely named Adrian (Talia Shire), an incredibly timid and shy girl who works in the local petstore. She’s been verbally abused by her depressed alcoholic brother to the point of feeling utterly worthless, as hemmed in by the world as Rocky, but in different ways, and the film makes a point of showing her looking after birds locked in cages every bit as restrictive as the metaphorical one she has around her. There aren’t many likeable characters in Rocky’s world, and as frustrating as her shyness is, we can see why he would like her by the sheer lack of beauty or humanity that is in everyone around her: his loanshark boss who treats him like a bum, his best friend Paulie (Burt Young) who talks to him like a bum, his trainer (the wonderful Burgess Meredith) who tells him he’s a bum. To her, he’s not a bum. That’s enough. The two need each other, and the developing of their relationship (including what may be one of the most awkward first dates ever put on film) is tender and involving.
Rocky isn’t shallow – his character has depth, and Stallone (a man often derided for his acting) is convincing. He is capable of hinting at inner feelings with the smallest of looks, and has a genuine vulnerability that an established star (Redford and Burt Reynolds were two of the discussed names) would have struggled to give. He was an unknown in life, and in the film, and the public sided with him. I’d be amazed if anyone watched the film and didn’t end up investing real emotion in the fight. I feel nervous in the buildup to the fight every time, and I’ve watched it many times. I feel defensive when I list Rocky as a fantastic film, and almost follow it with a challenge, or with a “It is!” exclamation after to ward off people’s immediate mocking. But the mocking rarely comes. As opposed to it’s terrible sequels, most people who know the film, love the film.
Biffer on Film 