Looks like I got “blog tagged” by Ryan Byrd, who has noted the dusty state of things around here. Super! My only response to my friend is: let’s see those AK-47 pics! Tag, you’re re-it.
What do you get when you watch all six Rocky movies in the span of three days? The same thing I got: that blasted theme song running on repeat through your head for many days. “Gonna fly now… “ Good thing it’s an inspiring tune.
I saw the original Rocky only once before, years upon years ago as a child. Through the years, my kid’s brain only kept vague images of an incoherent boxer mumbling to people while downing glasses of raw eggs in his filthy apartment. He practiced for fights by hitting meat in a giant freezer. He fell in love with an ugly girl who never talked. I thought it a colossal bore.
How wrong I was. No doubt Rocky is slow by today’s frenetic, attention-span-of-a-YouTuber standards. Yet the tale still totes a powerful punch, perhaps more now than ever. Rocky — both film and character — is all love, heart, and courage. Yes, the story of the underdog has been done to death, long before Rocky and often since, but rarely has it been done better.
The magic is only truly recaptured in the sixth and final film, Rocky Balboa. It manages to deliver its premise in a sweet, surprisingly believable way, never dispensed too fast, but rarely boring either (unless you’re squarely ensconced in the sound bite generation). The film is not perfect, but enjoyable, reminding us in terms familiar, yet paradoxically fresh, to always have courage.
P.S. If you want to subject yourself to the four filler sequels, that’s your affair. II and III are passable, while IV and V just blow.
