From the WSJ Opinion Archives
LEISURE & ARTS
Rocky Ages
Round six: Sylvester Stallone vs. reality.
The news that Sylvester Stallone will soon be making "Rocky VI" has been greeted with the usual catcalls and epithets from the lords of hipness. Will Bob Hope be his opponent in this outing? one smart-aleck wonders. Leslie Nielsen? Is the aging Mr. Stallone oblivious to the ridicule he will attract if he climbs into the ring one more time? Is he unaware that the torch has been passed to a new generation, that Rocky's time has come and gone? Is it possible, to use that hideous Hillary Clintonism, that Mr. Stallone just doesn't get it?
Of course it is. From the moment he made "Rocky" in 1976, Mr. Stallone has exhibited an almost Bill Clinton-like ability to shut out information from the real world. Proceeding from the ridiculous assumption that a short, white, dimwit, mobbed-up thug off the streets of South Philadelphia could give a Muhammad Ali stand-in a run for his money ("Rocky"), and then actually beat him ("Rocky II"), the "Rocky" series has always been rooted in a fanciful view of the world.
It is indeed this fairytale quality that insulates the films from charges of racism; if you're going to make a movie about the last guy on earth you'd expect to become heavyweight champion of the world, you can't go wrong with a short white stiff from South Philly. (The last white heavyweight who actually scared anybody died more than 30 years ago. Rocky Marciano was not a stiff.) That Mr. Stallone is now too old to play a champ means little to an actor who was always too white to play a champ. Which is a roundabout way of saying that it's a bit late in the game for the public to demand that the "Rocky" films start making sense.
Obviously, it would be nice if Mr. Stallone had allowed his lovable palooka to ride off into the sunset after "Rocky III," when the series was already running out of gas. In doing so, he would have followed in the footsteps of Sean Connery, who eventually realized he was getting too paunchy to play James Bond, and Clint Eastwood, who stopped playing studs like Josey Wales and Dirty Harry almost a generation ago.
Unfortunately, walking away from Rocky was never a viable option for Mr. Stallone. In atrocious movies ranging from "Paradise Alley" to "The Specialist" to the dismal remake of "Get Carter," Mr. Stallone has shown again and again that he cannot actually act. Unlike Messrs. Eastwood and Connery, who moved effortlessly into serious dramatic roles ("Play Misty for Me," "The Man Who Would Be King"), Mr. Stallone never had anywhere else to go. He could play Rocky, he could play Rambo, or he could go fish. He was not getting any calls to play Richard the Lion-Hearted or the president of the United States. He could play a mook or play Charles Atlas. The choice was his.
It wasn't as if Mr. Stallone didn't try to break out of this straitjacket. Like Burt Reynolds in "At Long Last Love," he worked hard to make the transition to comedy. But the results were pitiful: "Stop! or My Mom Will Shoot." "Oscar." "Rhinestone." He also he tried to play serious dramatic roles. But the results were pitiful: "F.I.S.T.," "Copland." He even once tried playing a second banana. But the result was pitiful: "Driven." The box-office verdict was always the same: If he wasn't selling Rocky or Rambo, the public wasn't buying.
I, for one, think it is pathetic that a man Mr. Stallone's age is making "Rocky VI." But I, for one, think it is pathetic that my hometown of Philadelphia has a statue of Sylvester Stallone standing outside the Spectrum, but does not have a statue of Joe Frazier, a real-life Philly boxer who would have clubbed a bum like Rocky Balboa into a coma. But this is a personal matter. A man has a right to make a living, and the only way Mr. Stallone is going to be able to put food on his table is by continuing to make "Rocky" and "Rambo" films.
Frankly, I don't think a few more bad Sylvester Stallone movies are going to hurt us. What would hurt us would be a few more really bad Sylvester Stallone movies. I'm talking about "Stop! or My Mom Will Shoot III" or "Judge Dredd, First Blood: Part VIII." Which is why I think the best solution for all of us is to stop bellyaching, and let Mr. Stallone go on making "Rocky" movies until he drops. At least this way we can keep an eye on him.
Mr. Queenan is editor of "The Malcontents: The Best Bitter, Cynical and Satirical Writing in the World" (Running Press, 2002).
