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Welcome to Rockyland: Sylvester Stallone’s Viagra Cinema

Welcome to Rockyland: Sylvester Stallone’s Viagra Cinema (photo)

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On July 6, 2011 Sylvester Stallone will turn 65 years old. At an age when most Americans are considering their Social Security benefits, Stallone’s career is the healthiest it’s been in decades. He recently revived his long dormant franchises, “Rocky” and “Rambo,” with new entries that were received to modest critical acclaim and less modest financial success. His latest film, “The Expendables,” was the first he’s headlined to gross over $100 million in the U.S. since “Rocky IV” back in 1985. Ten years ago, Stallone’s career was dead and he was a joke. Now he’s the world’s leading manufacturer of viagra cinema, movies designed to showcase the aging male frame as it performs unnatural but remarkable physical feats.

What Stallone’s done is basically without precedent. All of his former rivals for action film supremacy have faded away or moved on; all of his predecessors turned to moodier and more reflective work by the time they were his age. This is a situation that suits Stallone, since endurance was always the most important value of the “Rocky” movies. Rocky Balboa’s greatest strength as a boxer wasn’t his footwork or his punching power; on those fronts, he was mediocre fighter. What made Rocky extraordinary was his ability to take a punch and never go down. Though he has occasionally tried to distance himself from the character in his career (typically when he’s working on something other than blue-collar action films) it’s clear that Balboa is an extremely autobiographical character for Stallone. Rocky’s story is Stallone’s story: the dreams of an opportunity to prove your greatness, the struggle to remain hungry amidst the trappings of success and fame, the realization that you’ve lost your spark, the desire for one last chance.

12292010_rocky1.jpgAt the beginning of 2006’s “Rocky Balboa,” Rocky runs a restaurant named after his late wife Adrian (I guess “Planet Hollywood” would have been too on the nose) and spends his days there telling stories about his career. His old friend and brother-in-law Paulie (Burt Young, not so much anymore) is still around and they get together to commiserate about the state of world. Assessing the crumbling facade of the gym where Rocky used to train, Rocky remarks “Signs falling apart, Paulie.” “The whole world’s falling apart,” Paulie replies.

That in a nutshell is the world of Stallone’s viagra cinema: a place of physical and moral decay, the Philadelphia of “Rocky Balboa,” the Burma of “Rambo,” or the corrupt fictional island of Vilena in “The Expendables.” The heroes Stallone plays in these films refuse to concede to the decay around them or bend to the physical limitations of their age. The world may decay; Sylvester Stallone does not.

In “Rocky Balboa,” characters constantly harp on Balboa’s age. “Don’t you think you’re too, y’know, old?” his son asks him when he mentions that might want to start boxing again. He replies, “Yeah but you think you ought to stop trying things just because you had a few too many birthdays?” And so Rocky is offered an exhibition match against the current heavyweight champion, Mason “The Line” Dixon (Antonio Tarver). While everyone expects Balboa to embarrass himself — just as everyone expected Stallone to embarrass himself making another “Rocky” — he prevails. He loses the fight but he endures, proving his manhood and regaining his dignity. As Rocky refuses to go down, HBO boxing analyst Larry Merchant chuckles, “Welcome to Rockyland!”

“Rocky Balboa”‘s allusions to mortality — Adrian’s death from cancer, Rocky’s battle against public perception that believes him to be washed up — are the closest Stallone’s viagra cinema has gotten to acknowledging its creator’s age. The two films he’s made since revel in their defiance of their creator’s age. Nobody tells John Rambo he’s too old to kill Burmese militants. And he proves pretty definitively that he isn’t, by killing dozens upon dozens of them with ease.

12292010_rambo2.jpgThough he’s twenty years older than the last time we saw him, and he’s spent who knows how much of that time working in Thailand as a snake wrangler and river boat captain, by the start of “Rambo” Vietnam veteran John Rambo has inexplicably packed on twenty or more pounds of muscle since the last time we saw him in 1988’s “Rambo III.” In “Rocky Balboa,” Rocky’s trainer talks about his bad knees, the arthritis in his neck, the calcium deposits on his joints. But at 60, John Rambo appears to be in peak physical shape. He’s strong enough to rip a man’s throat out with his bare hands and spry enough to sneak around a military camp, leaving no trace except the flutter of an Asian flute on the soundtrack. Maybe snake wrangling will become the next big fitness craze.

Rambo was a combat shocked basket case in “First Blood,” but he grew steadily in stature through the older “Rambo” sequels until his killing skills took on near-mythic qualities. In “Rambo,” Stallone elevates the character again up to the level of a small deity. In the film’s action climax, the Burmese militants are about to execute Christian aids workers by the banks of a river when Rambo saves the day by firing hundreds of rounds from a jeep-mounted machine gun at the top of a hill. The blocking of the scene — Rambo at the top of the hill, the villainous Burmese below — gives it the feel of divine retribution, as if God himself is raining down hellfire to punish the wicked. And it’s Stallone who gets to do the punishing.

Somehow, Stallone’s physical feats grew even greater in “The Expendables.” There he plays Barney Ross, an expert marksman and the leader of the titular group of mercenaries. His closest buddy is Lee Christmas (Jason Statham), an expert in edge weapons. During their missions, the two hold friendly competitions to see who is quicker on the draw. “You’re not that fast anymore,” Christmas warns. “The only thing faster is light,” Ross responds.

Given Stallone’s age, and the fact that he surrounded himself in “The Expendables” with fresh action stars like Statham and Terry Crews, it seemed reasonable to assume that he was making the film as a symbolic passing of the torch; that it would be about what it’s like to realize you’re not faster than light anymore. Nope. Ross is correct about his skills. He fires his handguns so fast that they sound like an automatic rifle. Stallone edits the action so that the camera is constantly struggling to keep up with him. We’ll see him pull his gun and fire, and by the time we cut to his victim, the poor schmo’s already on the ground, as if Ross really is faster than the light being projected onto the screen. Characters repeatedly refer to the fact that Ross never sleeps, and it seems to be true: we never see him sleep. Or eat. Or do anything other than get tattoos and murder people. “The Expendables” isn’t about making way for a new generation. It’s about putting that new generation in their place and showing them how it’s done. Casting Stallone’s old contemporaries like Dolph Lundgren and Mickey Rourke was good for some chuckles; it was also good for showing how good Stallone looks in comparison to them.

12292010_expend1.jpgAnd he does look good. But in viagra cinema there is a disconnect between the onscreen ease with which Stallone carries out his manly activities and the offscreen difficulties he encountered achieving them. In “Rocky Balboa,” it appears that a simple regimen of jogging and keg lifting gets Balboa into phenomenal shape. There’s no mention of the human growth hormone and steroids Stallone really needed to take to achieve that transformation. To see more of what I mean, take a look at “Inferno: The Making of ‘The Expendables'”, a behind-the-scenes documentary that is now available on Netflix Instant. In “The Expendables,” Stallone leaps from a dock to a moving sea plane, dives out of the way of exploding helicopters, gets tackled into a brick wall, and never stops moving. In “Inferno,” we see the grueling physical toll all those activities took: broken bones, torn tendons, and so on. He got more MRIs making “The Expendables” than most people will get in a lifetime. Doctors advised him to put the film on hold and get surgery to treat his injuries; Stallone refused. It’s as if he’s willing to kill himself to look invincible onscreen.

Look closely, though, and you’ll see the signs of strain. His total lack of grace in the boxing ring in “Rocky Balboa.” The uncomfortable way he lumbers around in “Rambo.” The fact that he never takes his shirt off in “Rambo” after spending 98.3% of the previous two “Rambo”s stripped to the waist and covered in baby oil. Cutting frames from shots in “The Expendables” to make his movements appear faster than they really are. Even that finale to “Rambo,” which sees Stallone basking in near omnipotence, suggests his physical limitations. Though he kills plenty of men, Rambo stands perfectly still for the entire climax. He just shoots people with his jeep-mounted machine gun. Meanwhile a bunch of much younger actors playing mercenaries provide the obligatory quota of heroic leaping, running, and punching. That tension, between the invulnerable image Stallone is projecting and the vulnerability we see bubbling below the superficial superheroics, is fascinating to watch. Rocky, Rambo, and Ross are sort of like really old Twinkies; they should have gone stale years ago but artificial preservatives have kept them fresh well past their sell-by date.

Regardless, these men refuse to acknowledge their limitations. Stallone began dealing with the hard truths of aging way back in the early 1990s. In “Demolition Man” he cast himself as an old-school cop and metaphorical neanderthal who’s outlived his usefulness to a society that has moved on. In “Rocky V,” when Rocky was forced into retirement (a first time), his constant refrain was “I didn’t hear no bell!” signifying that his life is not over and that he continues to endure. Twenty years later, Stallone is still fighting, still refusing to hear the bell. The longer he refuses, the deeper he gets into Rockyland, the more strangely compelling his viagra cinema gets.

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[Additional Photos: “Rocky Balboa,” MGM, 2006; “The Expendables,” Lionsgate, 2010.]

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Bro and Tell

BFFs And Night Court For Sports

Bromance and Comeuppance On Two New Comedy Crib Series

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“Silicon Valley meets Girls meets black male educators with lots of unrealized potential.”

That’s how Carl Foreman Jr. and Anthony Gaskins categorize their new series Frank and Lamar which joins Joe Schiappa’s Sport Court in the latest wave of new series available now on IFC’s Comedy Crib. To better acquaint you with the newbies, we went right to the creators for their candid POVs. And they did not disappoint. Here are snippets of their interviews:

Frank and Lamar

via GIPHY

IFC: How would you describe Frank and Lamar to a fancy network executive you met in an elevator?
Carl: Best bros from college live and work together teaching at a fancy Manhattan private school, valiantly trying to transition into a more mature phase of personal and professional life while clinging to their boyish ways.

IFC: And to a friend of a friend you met in a bar?
Carl: The same way, slightly less coherent.

Anthony: I’d probably speak about it with much louder volume, due to the bar which would probably be playing the new Kendrick Lamar album. I might also include additional jokes about Carl, or unrelated political tangents.

Carl: He really delights in randomly slandering me for no reason. I get him back though. Our rapport on the page, screen, and in real life, comes out of a lot of that back and forth.

IFC: In what way is Frank and Lamar a poignant series for this moment in time?
Carl: It tells a story I feel most people aren’t familiar with, having young black males teach in a very affluent white world, while never making it expressly about that either. Then in tackling their personal lives, we see these three-dimensional guys navigate a pivotal moment in time from a perspective I feel mainstream audiences tend not to see portrayed.

Anthony: I feel like Frank and Lamar continues to push the envelope within the genre by presenting interesting and non stereotypical content about people of color. The fact that this show brought together so many talented creative people, from the cast and crew to the producers, who believe in the project, makes the work that much more intentional and truthful. I also think it’s pretty incredible that we got to employ many of our friends!

Sport Court

Sport Court gavel

IFC: How would you describe Sport Court to a fancy network executive you met in an elevator?
Joe: SPORT COURT follows Judge David Linda, a circuit court judge assigned to handle an ad hoc courtroom put together to prosecute rowdy fan behavior in the basement of the Hartford Ultradome. Think an updated Night Court.

IFC: How would you describe Sport Court to drunk friend of a friend you met in a bar?
Joe: Remember when you put those firecrackers down that guy’s pants at the baseball game? It’s about a judge who works in a court in the stadium that puts you in jail right then and there. I know, you actually did spend the night in jail, but imagine you went to court right that second and didn’t have to get your brother to take off work from GameStop to take you to your hearing.

IFC: Is there a method to your madness when coming up with sports fan faux pas?
Joe: I just think of the worst things that would ruin a sporting event for everyone. Peeing in the slushy machine in open view of a crowd seemed like a good one.

IFC: Honestly now, how many of the fan transgressions are things you’ve done or thought about doing?
Joe: I’ve thought about ripping out a whole row of chairs at a theater or stadium, so I would have my own private space. I like to think of that really whenever I have to sit crammed next to lots of people. Imagine the leg room!

Check out the full seasons of Frank and Lamar and Sport Court now on IFC’s Comedy Crib.

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Millennial Wisdom

Charles Speaks For Us All

Get to know Charles, the social media whiz of Brockmire.

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He may be an unlikely radio producer Brockmire, but Charles is #1 when it comes to delivering quips that tie a nice little bow on the absurdity of any given situation.

Charles also perfectly captures the jaded outlook of Millennials. Or at least Millennials as mythologized by marketers and news idiots. You know who you are.

Played superbly by Tyrel Jackson Williams, Charles’s quippy nuggets target just about any subject matter, from entry-level jobs in social media (“I plan on getting some experience here, then moving to New York to finally start my life.”) to the ramifications of fictional celebrity hookups (“Drake and Taylor Swift are dating! Albums y’all!”). But where he really nails the whole Millennial POV thing is when he comments on America’s second favorite past-time after type II diabetes: baseball.

Here are a few pearls.

On Baseball’s Lasting Cultural Relevance

“Baseball’s one of those old-timey things you don’t need anymore. Like cursive. Or email.”

On The Dramatic Value Of Double-Headers

“The only thing dumber than playing two boring-ass baseball games in one day is putting a two-hour delay between the boring-ass games.”

On Sartorial Tradition

“Is dressing badly just a thing for baseball, because that would explain his jacket.”

On Baseball, In A Nutshell

“Baseball is a f-cked up sport, and I want you to know it.”


Learn more about Charles in the behind-the-scenes video below.

And if you were born before the late ’80s and want to know what the kids think about Baseball, watch Brockmire Wednesdays at 10P on IFC.

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Crown Jules

Amanda Peet FTW on Brockmire

Amanda Peet brings it on Brockmire Wednesday at 10P on IFC.

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On Brockmire, Jules is the unexpected yin to Jim Brockmire’s yang. Which is saying a lot, because Brockmire’s yang is way out there. Played by Amanda Peet, Jules is hard-drinking, truth-spewing, baseball-loving…everything Brockmire is, and perhaps what he never expected to encounter in another human.

“We’re the same level of functional alcoholic.”


But Jules takes that commonality and transforms it into something special: a new beginning. A new beginning for failing minor league baseball team “The Frackers”, who suddenly about-face into a winning streak; and a new beginning for Brockmire, whose life gets a jumpstart when Jules lures him back to baseball. As for herself, her unexpected connection with Brockmire gives her own life a surprising and much needed goose.

“You’re a Goddamn Disaster and you’re starting To look good to me.”

This palpable dynamic adds depth and complexity to the narrative and pushes the series far beyond expected comedy. See for yourself in this behind-the-scenes video (and brace yourself for a unforgettable description of Brockmire’s genitals)…

Want more about Amanda Peet? She’s all over the place, and has even penned a recent self-reflective piece in the New York Times.

And of course you can watch the Jim-Jules relationship hysterically unfold in new episodes of Brockmire, every Wednesday at 10PM on IFC.

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