Boy Movies #21
Nicholas Russell on Creed III
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Jonathan Majors, graduate from the Tom Hardy school of mumble acting
“What feelings do men experience?” There were some stunning replies to this tweet — “homosexuality,” “a yearning for the mines,” “southeast” — and I thought of it frequently while watching Creed III. I was skeptical about this film, as many were: Creed is famously extremely good while Creed II is, comparatively, kind of dogshit. I wasn’t confident in the concept of Michael B. Jordan as a first-time director, for no real reason aside from the fact that I sort of roll my eyes every time a beautiful actor is like, “Time for me to direct.” To my own shock, I really liked it; I saw it in IMAX, which is how I wish I could see literally every movie, and the sound was so amplified that I was startled every time someone got punched (since this is a movie about boxing, that is something that happens a lot). It is ultimately a movie about boy best friends turned enemies, and if there ever comes a time where a story like that doesn’t move me you’ll all know I’ve been body snatched. So what feelings do men experience? A few examples from the Creed universe include “punch,” “dead dad,” and “legacy1.” The men of Creed experience these feelings very deeply and typically with their entire bodies. I’m of the opinion that the Creeds work because they have no qualms embracing that melodrama in what amounts to an almost refreshing fashion.
I was delighted and honored when beloved Twitter mutual and wonderful writer Nicholas Russell reached out to me about writing about Creed III. I’ve been a fan of his writing for a while and always appreciate his perspective on film especially, so I was instantly thrilled by the prospect of reading anything he had to say about All About Eve for men. What a pleasure it is to have him make his Boy Movies debut (I love saying this as if it means anything) with this thoughtful piece on not just Creed III, but also male feelings and the Rocky film series as a whole. Can you imagine anything more boy than a real life boy writing about a franchise full of boy movies in an issue of Boy Movies? I can’t. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did.
In order to talk about Creed, we first have to talk about Rocky Balboa, the 2006 direct sequel to Rocky V that literally no one remembers except me. Sixteen years separate the two films, a period in which Sylvester Stallone aged into his current plasticky-chiseled elder form, a stretch of time too great for the filmmakers to pretend as if no time had passed. Balboa starts with Rocky at sixty, retired from boxing, a widower, and estranged from his son Robert, played by Milo Ventimilgia in the first role I actively remember seeing him in. For much of the film, Rocky is shown in a domestic capacity, running a little Italian restaurant, commiserating with his best friend Paulie, grieving over Adrian. Meanwhile, in the boxing world, a fighter who goes by the hilarious name Mason “The Line” Dixon is hated by pretty much everyone even though he’s the champ (“champ” supplants the omnipresent “dude” in these movies). Dixon and his team propose a special, one-off fight with Balboa, who, according to a computer simulation, has the capacity to handily beat the much-younger fighter. Age vs. youth, speed vs. strength, arrogance vs. wisdom: these are the age-old themes essential and personal to Stallone, at least in these films.
Stallone wrote and directed Rocky Balboa, as he did most of the Rocky franchise, a fact that tends to go unmentioned in conversations about their legacy. Which is to say that Stallone is responsible for both the gritty realism and the wacko fantasia that these movies so often indulge. In a bloated sports-movie landscape, the Rockys stand out for their heart, illustrated through a core group of idiosyncratic characters, weathered, but ever-optimistic Philadelphians who take on the world (and, famously, one time, communism) by sticking together.
In stark contrast to his action-hero reputation, cemented in man movies like First Blood and Demolition Man, Stallone shifts into a more tender, vulnerable register as Rocky. He has always played the character as a fish-out-of-water, a reluctant fighter who would much rather laze about on the couch with his beloved friends and family, tend to his neighborhood, greet the world from a place of peace. Rocky puts up a courageous, albeit ill-advised fight and, no matter the outcome, leaves the ring proud. I remember Rocky Balboa well (I saw it opening weekend), which is astounding to me because I didn’t think I was really paying attention to it. And though I hadn’t watched any of the Rocky films before it, I felt a palpable sense of melancholy. Clearly, this was the end of a beloved American cinematic staple and though the lore was opaque to me, I could sense how momentous it was.
And then, in 2015, a spin-off came along, following the franchise mononym convention: Creed.
It is important to point out just how random it is that there’s even one Creed movie let alone three (and counting). Not because Hollywood ever keeps any IP sacred, but because this particular spin-off is so culturally separate from the original series. The Creed films are centered on black masculinity, but they fold in depictions of and commentary on black notions of wealth and status, self-protection vs violence, fatherhood, jealousy, intergenerational and interracial trauma, life after the carceral system, and racism. More random than their existence is the fact that they have so much on their mind and feel emboldened to present these issues as part and parcel of conventional boxing movie trappings.
To be clear, they don’t all do it well. Every sequel following the first Creed has struggled to live up to the astounding feat of filmmaking that is Ryan Coogler’s origin story, which features Stallone’s career-best, Oscar-worthy (and snubbed!) performance. This is primarily because, with Coogler since stepping back into a producing capacity, the franchise has become about very stupid things. Things like petty jealousy and narcissism, inflated egos, the masculine urge to do many push-ups and bottle up your emotions, in the process hiding incredibly traumatic, previously-unstated childhood experiences — like an entire best friend who subsequently went to prison for 18 years — from your wife.
From the jump, Creed situated itself as a story about weighty legacies. Adonis, played buffly by Michael B. Jordan, is the son of Rocky’s famous one-time adversary-turned-friend, Apollo Creed. Adonis is the product of an affair and lives by his mother’s last name, Johnson. He has a chip on his shoulder. Crucially, fighting for Adonis takes the place of verbalizing. So we are often treated to moments where Adonis struggles to find the words for how he feels about his late father, his childhood years spent in a youth detention facility, his burgeoning love for singer Bianca, played increasingly thanklessly by Tessa Thompson.
As the franchise has gone on, and the producers have searched for more adversaries for Adonis to face, this emotional constipation has only gotten worse. I suppose the implicit lesson is that even after you strike it rich and become heavyweight champion of the world, you still have to talk about how you feel, which Baby Creed simply hates doing. In Creed II, Adonis makes the brash decision to fight Viktor Drago, son of former Soviet killing machine Ivan, whom Rocky beat (for America) back in the 80s. Two disgruntled sons will literally fight each other to prove that they don’t live in their fathers’ shadows rather than go to therapy, etc. Adonis fights Viktor twice, losing handily the first time, before Rocky and his old school training team take Adonis back to basics (boy movies love 1. getting the band back together and 2. going back to basics). Adonis wins, all without having to capitulate to Bianca’s entreaties that he grow up a little.
Which brings us to the truly insane Creed III. I’ll be honest, the trailers did not sell this movie well and after being pretty disappointed with the second film, I was expecting to hate the new one. Suffice it to say, Michael B. Jordan, who makes his directorial debut here, delivers the goods. They’re not as fresh as the Coogler goods, but they have a flavor all their own. Jordan has been incessantly reminding everyone during the press tour for his movie that Creed III is influenced by anime. I suspect, in the wake of huge nerd wins like the directors Daniel winning so many Oscars, being a nerd is cool again and so Jordan would like to appropriately market his credentials. Who knows? The anime element is there, mostly during the first big fight scene, and almost totally absent elsewhere.
No, what sets this new installment apart is its gonzo aesthetic. Jordan said, “Color, please!” Neon lights, oversaturated skylines, vibrantly glistening brown skin. Of the three films thus far, Creed III is definitely the Most-looking. Copious slow motion, dream fights, temporal cross-cutting, so much CGI sweat. It also tries its best to expand the sociopolitical scope of the franchise, this time focusing on Adonis’s childhood friend, Damien “Diamond Dame” Anderson, who has been incarcerated this whole time. Anderson, played magnetically by rising star Jonathan Majors, is a wounded soul, resentful of his stolen years, a once-promising young boxer who time has made irrelevant. Now freshly-released, he wants to go straight for the title. What is so affecting, and frustrating, about the new Creed is that it introduces so many interesting threads, only to drop them completely in favor of Adonis’s insanely robust ego. Which, I guess, is an accurate portrayal of narcissism, but I seriously doubt that was Jordan’s intention. Yeah, Adonis has got daddy issues and trust issues, but we covered all that in the first two movies. It’s time for some growth! The colors are fun and there’s a crazy shot in the final fight where Adonis gets punched so hard the sweat on his back does a little dance. Still.
Alas, some boy movies are about the inability to grow, and though Adonis does his punching thing, and eventually opens up to his wife (albeit because his mom literally dies!), there’s a lingering sense that Jordan finds his character’s obstinate, brooding masculinity noble. If only there was a film with a similar theme and premise that handled things better. Oh wait, there is! It’s called Warrior from 2011 and it’s basically the exact same movie as Creed III, but with white people. Joel Edgerton and Tom Hardy play estranged brothers, the former a school teacher who moonlights as an MMA-fighter to make extra money, the latter a recently discharged veteran angling to win the Sparta MMA tournament. Paternal strife, sibling rivalry, head trauma, a wife just trying to get her husband to open the fuck up — Warrior has what Creed III does, but with more patience, emotional detail, and ultimately, heart.
Which isn’t to say the new film isn’t worthwhile or that Jordan isn’t a talented director. There’s a lot to like and it surpasses most studio products for its clear vision and sense of scale. And it can’t be understated how hard Jordan and Coogler have worked to offer a different kind of high-profile black franchise, one that endeavors to show and say something different than the condescending representational capitulations of Marvel or Netflix. Ultimately, the Creed franchise needs to figure out how smart, or smartly dumb, it wants to be. Should Adonis finally mature, new and interesting avenues could open up for him. Then again, his adolescent angst and tendency to completely misinterpret what people say to him are what get him into these wild situations in the first place.
You simply must read Nicholas on Armageddon Time. An outstanding piece of writing!
I reviewed Beef, a show Steven Yeun is so good in that it’ll make you go, “Oh right, this guy has been nominated for an Oscar.” It’s wild and pretty great! Watch it when it’s out in April so we can discuss the ending.
Every movie lately is about a man grappling with his legacy. Imagine my surprise when I walked into the new Puss in Boots and discovered it is also about this.