You Mean Rocky is an UNDERDOG??Rocky Balboa
Suggested Netflix Queue Position: 377, right behind Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood
As one who is only peripherally involved in sports betting, I have to ask this question: how many times does Rocky have to win a big fight before he’s NOT an underdog? Dude has taken out the heavyweight champ, a huge guy with a Mohawk, Hulk Hogan (remember that??), and a Russian on steroids. PUT YOUR FREAKING MONEY ON ROCKY.
Sylvester “I owe the government some money” Stallone returns as the barbaric yet lovable pugilist who captured our hearts in 1976, then stole our money for the next 20 years with a series of formulaic sequels. Only the first Rocky was really compelling, with heartfelt performances from the entire cast. I guess what I’m trying to say is that we need another Rocky movie like Tony Robbins needs another tooth.
Stallone’s continuing need to milk this franchise eerily mirrors Rocky’s need to keep boxing – only the audience is the punch drunk boxer at the end of each film/fight.
Does this set a good example for the kiddies, by the way? In the first film, Rocky’s will and ability to take a blow were courageous and heart wrenching. Now, it’s dangerous – Rocky can barely form sentences. Yet that stupidity is glorified in this series. We don’t need more Rocky films to show us what happens to a boxer who hangs on WAY too long – we have Evander Holyfield in real life.
Back to the film, which is unintentionally depressing. Almost the entire cast is back, except for Talia Shire (Adrian) who, in a shrewd career move, opted to star in the Geico caveman commercials instead. Pauly (Burt Young) is back, as drunk and grumpy as ever. Oh, and he’s still about as supportive as a rickety workbench. Any normal person would have dropped this bum as a friend after about 5 minutes.
Rocky is drawn into fighting Mason “The Line” Dixon, the reigning heavyweight champion. I don’t need to tell you how the movie ends – it’s not important. What’s important is that the movie DOES end. Unfortunately, we’re not saved by the bell.
Cut me, Mick.
Suggested Netflix Queue Position: 377, right behind Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood
As one who is only peripherally involved in sports betting, I have to ask this question: how many times does Rocky have to win a big fight before he’s NOT an underdog? Dude has taken out the heavyweight champ, a huge guy with a Mohawk, Hulk Hogan (remember that??), and a Russian on steroids. PUT YOUR FREAKING MONEY ON ROCKY.
Sylvester “I owe the government some money” Stallone returns as the barbaric yet lovable pugilist who captured our hearts in 1976, then stole our money for the next 20 years with a series of formulaic sequels. Only the first Rocky was really compelling, with heartfelt performances from the entire cast. I guess what I’m trying to say is that we need another Rocky movie like Tony Robbins needs another tooth.
Stallone’s continuing need to milk this franchise eerily mirrors Rocky’s need to keep boxing – only the audience is the punch drunk boxer at the end of each film/fight.
Does this set a good example for the kiddies, by the way? In the first film, Rocky’s will and ability to take a blow were courageous and heart wrenching. Now, it’s dangerous – Rocky can barely form sentences. Yet that stupidity is glorified in this series. We don’t need more Rocky films to show us what happens to a boxer who hangs on WAY too long – we have Evander Holyfield in real life.
Back to the film, which is unintentionally depressing. Almost the entire cast is back, except for Talia Shire (Adrian) who, in a shrewd career move, opted to star in the Geico caveman commercials instead. Pauly (Burt Young) is back, as drunk and grumpy as ever. Oh, and he’s still about as supportive as a rickety workbench. Any normal person would have dropped this bum as a friend after about 5 minutes.
Rocky is drawn into fighting Mason “The Line” Dixon, the reigning heavyweight champion. I don’t need to tell you how the movie ends – it’s not important. What’s important is that the movie DOES end. Unfortunately, we’re not saved by the bell.
Cut me, Mick.
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