Rocky Balboa
Comedy is tragedy plus time, but in returning to the character of Rocky Balboa, Sylvester Stallone shows that the old saw can work in reverse: Self-parody plus time yields poignancy. In “Rocky Balboa,” the sixth and final Rocky movie, Stallone strips away the cartoonish contrivances that marred the later sequels and manages a sweet portrait of a fading hero confronting mortality and irrelevance. At age 60, Rocky owns a restaurant in South Philadelphia, where he regales patrons with stories from his boxing career. Meanwhile, he mourns the death of his wife and finds some purpose in helping a down-and-out barmaid and her teenage son. Stallone stages these scenes with remarkable texture and tenderness.
The sad state of contemporary heavyweight boxing provides a reasonably plausible entry point for Rocky’s comeback: The ridiculously named champion, Mason Dixon, has never faced any serious competition, so ESPN uses a computer simulation that predicts a victory for Balboa if the two had squared off in their respective primes. Dixon’s agents, then, prod Balboa into returning to the ring. There’s something oddly affecting about watching Stallone return to the old underdog formula, and there’s a lovely synergy between actor and character: Boxing is the only thing Rocky’s good at, and playing Rocky is the only thing Stallone’s good at. To be fair, he also wrote “Rocky Balboa,” and he capably directs it, too. The man’s not a total palooka.
LISTEN: Rocky Balboa