The Incredible CREED: One Hell Of A Legacyquel

Now playing at a multiplex near you:

CREED (Dir. Ryan Coogler, 2015) 

Over at the movie website ScreenCrush, critic Matt Singer coins a term that I really hope catches on: “legacyquel.” Singer writes that it describes a “very specific kind of sequel - in which beloved aging stars reprise classic roles and pass the torch to younger successors.”

The phrase fits, especially when applied to the highly anticipated seventh chapter in the STAR WARS saga, STAR WARS: THE FORCE AWAKENS (out in 2 weeks!), but it’s the seventh installment of the Rocky franchise, CREED, that really embodies what a great legacyquel should be all about. And it’s largely because it features an Oscar caliber supporting turn by the series’ star.

On the surface, CREED is a spin-off centered on Michael B. Jordan as Adonis “Donnie” Johnson Creed, the son of Rocky’s greatest opponent, world heavyweight champion Apollo Creed, and it works as such for its first 20 or so minutes.

Donnie’s back story is that he was born to a mistress of Apollo’s who later died leaving him to bounce from foster homes and juvenile detention, until his adoption by Apollo's widow Mary Anne (Phylicia Rashad). Donnie’s adopted mother worries about his fighting lineage, hoping that he’ll take a job in a corporate office instead of pursuing professional boxing, but she knows he’s his father’s son and there’s no getting in the way of his dream.

That’s where Sylvester Stallone, resurrecting Rocky Balboa from the ashes of what was supposed to be his swansong (2006's ROCKY BALBOA), comes into play. Donnie travels to Philadelphia to coax the Italian Stallion out of retirement to be his trainer, but Rocky, still running the restaurant established in the last sequel (ROCKY BALBOA), tells him that he “don’t do that stuff no more.”

You know it’s only a matter of time before Rocky gives in and we’re immersed in training montages of Donnie, in a familiar gray sweatsuit, intensely working out at the gym, running through the streets of Philly at dawn, and chasing chickens, all set to the triumphant score of Swedish composer Ludwig Göransson, which, of course, calls upon Bill Conti’s iconic Rocky theme “Gonna Fly Now” at just the right moments.

Stallone’s Rocky now takes on the part that Burgess Meredith’s Mikey played in the first three films in the series, that of the lead’s trainer/father figure, and he wears it well. The duo attempt to keep their collaboration under wraps, but after his first major fight with the gym owner’s (Richie Coster) son (Gabe Rosado) it gets out that Donnie is Apollo Creed’s offspring.

This leads to Graham McTavish as the manager of “Pretty” Ricky Conlan (played by real-life professional boxer Tony Bellew), setting up a fight between his client and Donnie. The highly hyped event will be the last professional match for Conlan as he is going to jail for seven years for gun possession, and it will serve as this entry’s trademark final fight.

Meanwhile, Donnie has a love interest on the side in the form of his neighbor Bianca (Tessa Thompson, DEAR WHITE PEOPLE, SELMA), it turns out that Rocky has Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma but refuses to undergo chemotherapy because of what his late wife Adrian went through. This moment, in which Rocky faces his mortality in a cold hospital room, is one of the film’s most affecting. Stallone’s performance is a thoughtful and measured piece of work that deserves all the Oscar buzz its getting.

It’s also uplifting and exciting to witness the making of a bonafide movie star. Jordan bests his solid work in Coogler’s stirring 2013 debut FRUITVALE STATION, his first collaboration with screenwriter/director Coogler, and should really make a name for himself with his powerfully invested work here.

Jordan obviously did a lot of real training for the gripping and emotionally wrenching fight scenes, which were shot by cinematographer Maryse Alberti. Donnie’s first fight is a standout scene: a single, long unbroken shot taking place inside the ring, captured by stunningly choreographed camerawork.

In the incredible CREED, Coogler punches up the Rocky formula with great success. It believes so deeply in the Rocky mythos, that we believe in it too. We go along that these are real people with a shared history because every detail, from Rocky and Donnie’s interactions to the tidbits revealed about the past, is convincingly heartfelt. CREED keeps it real, while keeping all the Rocky feels.

It’s truly one of the biggest surprises of the year that CREED is as genuinely good as it is. It’s the must see movie event that few saw coming, and it’s, for sure, the legacyquel this season to beat. However, I hear that the Force is strong with its upcoming competitor.

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THE WRESTLER: The Film Babble Blog Review

THE WRESTLER (Dir. Darren Aronofsky, 2008)

For weeks I’ve been dying to “Witness the resurrection of Mickey Rourke” as David Ansen’s (Newsweek) quote declares blaring from commercials, posters, and every possible promotional avenue. As I’ve been waiting for the film to come to my area Rourke picked up a Golden Globe Award and a Best Actor Oscar nomination as well as many rave reviews so it has been hard as Hell to heed Chuck D’s immortal advice: “Don’t believe the hype.” Well having finally seen it last night, I can say that the hype is very well founded with the accolades and the awards nods much deserved. This is a perfectly un-pretentious piece of vital film making – as ragged and sentimental as it is. Speaking of ragged, Rourke has aged into an odd leathery pumped up creature – almost completely unrecognizable from the scrappy unctuous wiseacre of his 80’s incarnation. His presence and approach here is dead on – there was no point in this movie did I not believe he was this character – the over the hill formerly famous professional wrestler Randy “The Ram” Robinson.

The story is simple and the premise is predictable but the urgency and gritty gravitas given to this “old broken down piece of meat”, as Rourke calls himself, is one of the most powerful portraits of a fighter I’ve ever witnessed, resurrection or not. The camera follows Rourke shot from behind as he enters every scene, facing every situation like he’s entering the ring again. Hoping for a new high-profile match, much like, one would imagine, Rourke himself over the dark periods of the last 20 years, The Ram works in a supermarket where he’s berated daily by his boss – played beautifully by comedian Todd Barry. He’s in love with a stripper named Cassidy (Marisa Tomei), pretty past her prime herself, but she’s reluctant to date a customer, or maybe just scared of the man. At her suggestion he tries to re-establish contact with his estranged daughter (Evan Rachel Wood) but that too is as difficult as staging his comeback. After a particularly horrific match in which broken glass, staples, and barbed wire are used, our punchy protagonist has a heart attack and, of course, he has to face his mortality.

In a class with RAGING BULL and the first ROCKY (go ahead, scoff), THE WRESTLER has a big heart and more importantly, ginormous cahones. I believe Rourke should win the Oscar, not just because we all thought he no longer had anything like this in him, but because it truly is a major first class performance of a lower class louse in severe need of salvation. The movie has a lot of funny moments – I love the scenes with Rourke working the deli counter and his conversation with Tomei about 80’s being the best music ever: “Bet’chr ass man, Guns N’ Roses! Rules.” The screenplay, surprisingly by former Onion satirical scribe Robert D. Seigel, is full of nice natural exchanges like that and coupled with Aronofsky’s command of tone it never grows tedious even as it toils in all too familiar territory – I.E. the underdog redemption scenario. I don’t know if it was the shape of the print my theater got, but the film looked was so grainy and often I felt like I was watching a film that was 20 years old. That’s apt I think; it already looks like a classic and Rourke already seems like he’s never gone away. For some crazy reason right now, that all feels incredibly right.

Post note: I failed to mention Bruce Springsteen’s excellent title song that got horribly snubbed by the Academy yesterday. Hard to believe it got overlooked.

So will THE WRESTLER make The Film Babble Blog Top Ten Best Movies Of 2008 list? Stay tuned to find out.

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Young Genghis Khan, Steroids, And A Cagey New DVD Release

MONGOL (Dir. Sergei Bodrov, 2007)

Appropriate alternate titles for this film could be THE ADVENTURES OF YOUNG GENGHIS KHAN, THE REAL WRATH OF KHAN, or perhaps most aptly GENGHIS KHAN BEGINS.

At first I was just happy that this wasn’t like 300 - a videogame aestetic with not one foot in reality but despite some CGI (mostly in the spraying of blood) this epic thankfully has an old school naturalism to it. Unfortunately it is a trial to sit through with long sequences that go nowhere and characters that fail to stir any emotional connection. 

We first meet Khan, born as Temudgin, as a young boy played by Odnyam Odsuren. When his father is murdered he becomes hunted because he may grow up to avenge the death GODFATHER: PART II-style. He survives capture and torture and skirts across the endless mountain terrain inspired by thoughts of his young bride Börte (Bayertsetseg Erdenebat). 

The pace picks up a bit when he emerges as an adult in the form of Tadanobu Asano whose grace and stern focus provide the film with much needed power. He returns to the arms of Börte now portrayed by Khulan Chuluun but their reunion is short-lived as she is kidnapped by a rival clan and Temudgin goes against the advice of his best friend Jamukha (Honglei Sun) who stresses “What Mongol ever went to war for a woman?”

Several battle scenes full of slow motion slicing and the before mentioned digital blood are the most entertaining parts of MONGOL but they do not save the movie from the long uninvolving stretches that toyed with my patience. 

The photography of the infinite landscapes of Inner Mongolia and Kazakhstan is breath-taking much of the time but the lack of narrative drive and the detached handling of the myths of these historical figures as well as the lackluster love story left me cold. 

At just a little over 2 hours (but feels much longer) MONGOL moves like a bloated beast trying to find a place to sleep but still lashing half heartedly out at swirling flies. 

The word is that this is the first part of a trilogy - a Mongolian LORD OF THE RINGS if you will, with director Bodrov promising the rest of the tale of the legendary conquerer for your Oscar consideration (MONGOL was nominated for a Best Foreign Language Film Academy Award). 

Well if the future installments lumber like this one in such uninspired stupor over the tortuous and tedious terrain, count me out.

BIGGER, STRONGER, FASTER (Dir. Chris Bell, 2008)

Fancy this - a documentary about an obvious hot-button topic i.e. anabolic steroids and their impact on our national society which contains actual insights personal, political, and pop culture-wise. 

Take that, SUPER SIZE ME! Director Bell and his 2 body building brothers (Mike “Mad Dog” and Mark “Smelly”) have all used steroids and relate tales of near stardom in the shadows of their heroes - Arnold Schwarzenegger, Sylvester Stallone, Hulk Hogan et al. 

Taking its name from an oft repeated line from The Six Million Dollar Man, BIGGER, STRONGER, FASTER is chock full of clips of their role models in their pumped up prime - RAMBO, ROCKY, THE TERMINATOR, as well as satirical swipes at the world of performance enhancing drugs from the likes of The Simpsons and SNL. 

Filling out the solidly structured footage is interviews with experts pro and con on the steroid issue but the real crux is the Bell brothers’ back stories. Chris Bell cops to doing steroids (in an especially emotional dinner table scene with his parents) when he was younger and stopping because of feelings of guilt but his brothers are still users. 

Their confessions under the scrutiny of their brother once one of them but now a questioning documentarian are compelling and surprisingly sincere sounding: “I love steroids and will probably be on and off them forever” Mark admits matter of factly.

Bell keeps coming back to Schwarzenegger who he calls “the poster boy for steroids” and reasons that the Govenator, as he's often called, wouldn't be where he is now if not for the controversial compound. 

The director even tries to get an interview with Ah-nold a la Michael Moore’s attempted Roger Smith ambush but he doesn't bog the film down with the pursuit - it's just an amusing sideline. Examining not only the public personas wrapped up in the use or abuse debate but statistical data and health risk misinformation (depending on who you listen to) Chris Bell has made a superlative documentary that deftly balances its viewpoints and never loses its thesis thread. 

BIGGER STRONGER FASTER earns its tagline: “The Side Effects Of Being American” and should be seen by everybody with even just a passing interest in its subject. It’s one of the most honest and absorbing portraits I’ve ever seen of a complicated problem with equal parts humor and pathos. With hope it won’t be forgotten when the awards season comes around again.

Newly released on DVD:

NATIONAL TREASURE 2: BOOK OF SECRETS (Dir. Jon Turteltaub, 2007)

The first NATIONAL TREASURE was a direct lift of “The Da Vinci Code” (the book mind you - it beat the film adaptation by 9 months) imposing an American action formula on the bestsellers puzzles and distortion of history. 

It was as stupid as it sounds with Nicholas Cage’s wise-cracking protagonist leading his small crew (including the supposed to be funny but isn’t Justin Bartha as his partner and Diane Kruger as the love interest) through contrived unexciting movie mechanisms but it made a ginormous amount of money; enough money to warrant a sequel apparently so here we are again with more of the lame same. 

I was planning on skipping this until I saw a trailer that promised the premise of a book known only to the President of The United States that contains the secrets to the nation’s greatest mysteries - the J.F.K. assassination, Area 51, and the alleged faking of the Apollo Moon landing. 

I’m a lover of conspiracy theory cinema and am writing a book on the subject so I felt obligated. I still shouldn’t have bothered - these famous theories or urban legends, as some would call them, are just mentioned and never used in any interesting or even amusing way. As I should’ve known the book of secrets is just a McGuffin * in another round of running from one wickedly easy to open crypt to another cipher or another implausibly placed code.

* For you non-film geeks - a McGuffin is a plot device that motivates the characters or advances the story, but the details of which are of little or no importance otherwise (Wikipedia).

Anyone who doubts the quality of the latest INDIANA JONES movie should see NATIONAL TREASURE 2 because its lack of genuine wit and graceless tone makes that ole Spielberg/Lucas/Ford re-union special look like TREASURE OF THE SIERRE MADRE! The addition of Helen Mirren as Cage’s mother and Voight’s bickering ex-wife brings nothing new to this lame wannabe franchise though it is kind of cool to see her in plain duds with scraggly hair and no grand make-up for once. 

Then again with Mirren and other such solid respected actors as Harvey Keitel (reprising his role from the first NT as a sympathetic cop in pursuit) and Ed Harris (as the villain - uh, I guess) running around it feels like this overly slick enterprise exists to glorify cinematic slumming it.

Nicholas Cage has drifted so far from doing compelling vital work with such dreck as this and GHOST RIDER, NEXT, THE WICKER MAN et al that it is getting harder to remember how interesting and talented the guy once seemed.

 Since these movies make money his return to worthwhile cinema looks like it may be delayed indefinitely. I loved his performances in ADAPTATION, RAISING ARIZONA, WILD AT HEART, and various other non-action roles in his canon so this long detour into sell-out formula crapola is pretty puzzling. 

Though to make sense of this movie mystery wouldn’t take a cryptic McGuffin with a code to decipher unless it leads us directly to Cage’s bank vault or just gives us his bank balance statement.

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Step Aside Juno, Make Room For Marjane

While JUNO is getting all the acclaim - the nominations, the top ten list accolades, and the bank from repeat offender audience members - PERSEPOLIS, despite being nominated for Best Animated Feature and a plethora of good reviews is seemingly lost in the shuffle with few making the effort to go see it. I don't want that to happen - this film deserves to be seen by as many people as possible in its theatrical run. Let me tell you why in my review:

PERSEPOLIS
(Dir. Vincent Paronaud & Marjane Satrapi, 2007)



Retaining the look of the autobio-graphic novels on which it's based PERSEPOLIS is unique as both an animated film and as a coming of age period piece. The story is told by way of a muted colored (yeah, the whole thing isn't in gritty black and white) modern day flashback in which we meet Marjane (voiced by Gabrielle Lopes) - a bright outspoken preteen in Tehran in 1978. 

Marjene is told by her loving father (Simon Abkarian) the history of her country in a swift but accurate storybook manner and she dreams of being a saving prophet of the Islamic revolution. Marjane's uncle (François Jerosme), a victim of the new regime, chooses her for his last single jail visit before his execution. This affects her deeply as she grows into a rebellious punk-loving teenager (from then on voiced by Chiara Mastroianni) who buys and lives by pirated tapes of American and British rock 'n roll. 

All along the way there is stern advice from her sternly cautious but wisely kind grandmother (Danielle Darreux) and the dangerous daily life of a city constantly in turmoil. Marjane becomes a young woman literally before our eyes in an amusing scene that I won't give away. 

We follow her to Vienna where as a student at the French Lycée she makes friends with cynical punky outsiders (complete with mohawks and leather jackets). We also witness a love affair relationship arc that takes a little wind out of our protagonist's sails (and sadly the movie's a bit) but Marjane gets her groove back with a little help from Survivor's "Eye Of The Tiger" from ROCKY III.

This film is only being distributed in America in its French language version with subtitles. While this may be considered the purist way to go - it is unfortunate because there is a English language version featuring the voices of Iggy Pop, Gena Rowlands, and Sean Penn. I would like both versions to get distribution, especially since it may affect attendance. 

I saw this with only six other people in the audience and that is really depressing when the inferior overrated JUNO packed houses and is still in the top five at the box office. Marjane, even as a simplistic cartoon model, is a much more affecting character than Ellen Page's unrealistic glib one-liner machine. If only mass America would realize that and go see it. With its pointed humour yet sober sense of history PERSEPOLIS is pretty damn near perfect.

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