Is there a cinematic equivalent to stolen valor? Because I Play Rocky could definitely be accused of that. Peter Farrelly’s film is undeniably crowd-pleasing but many of its pleasures are based on our familiarity with—and long-established love for—Sylvester Stallone’s iconic Rocky.
To be clear, it’s not a remake, but a kind of parallel universe version of Rocky that tells the real-life story of Stallone (Anthony Ippolito) and the making of his unlikely dream project—a Horatio Alger story about the making of a Horatio Alger film.
Which is fine, of course. Biopics gotta biopic. But in this case, many of the comic beats and emotional highs are owed to Rocky.
For example: There’s a funny sequence where they’re
For example: There’s a funny sequence where they’re struggling to cast Apollo Creed. (Briefly, Joe Frazier is considered—but when they realize that a real boxer would make Sly look like, well, a fake boxer, they part ways.) As the film’s producers and director sit in a room trying to solve their dilemma, in struts Carl Weathers (Stephan James), sporting an afro and dressed in an open denim shirt, all bravado and charming machismo. We laugh, because, well, that’s our guy.
We see Stallone running in gray sweats with his bull mastiff, Butkus—and later we see them shoot Rocky doing the exact same thing in the exact same outfit with, yes, the exact same dog.
We see the producers, Irwin Winkler (P.J. Byrne) and Robert Chartoff (Toby Kebbell), listen to a sample of what would become the Rocky theme song.
“I don’t know,” Winkler says skeptically. “It’s too emotional.” Again, we laugh.
When we watch them film the iconic scene
And when we watch them film the iconic scene where Rocky runs the stairs of the Philadelphia Museum (fun fact: they had to edit out the Rocky statue at the top of the stairs) we are roused—because it’s that scene.
To be fair, the slickly made film is successful on its own terms. That starts with Ippolito, who uncannily embodies the young Stallone. He’s got the deep, thick, slightly slurred voice; the hooded, bedroom eyes; the loping walk; and the coiled posture of the actor.
It’s true that Stallone was essentially playing a boxing version of himself in the Rocky, so Ippolito didn’t need to look far for character inspiration. Ippolito is Stallone who is Rocky.
The story, which you may or may not
The story, which you may or may not already know, is that Stallone, an out-of-work actor, wrote the script for Rockyafter watching boxing journeyman Chuck Wepner (aka the “Bayonne Bleeder”) take Muhammad Ali 15 rounds before losing in a technical knockout. Stallone sees himself in this scrappy underdog who defied the haters and beat the odds.
He returns to the apartment he shares with his pregnant wife (AnnaSophia Robb, in a fairly generic “supportive wife” role) and writes the screenplay by hand in three days. When he gives it to Winkler and Chartoff, they see its potential but want a star to play Rocky.
“I play Rocky,” insists Stallone.
They are dumbfounded, explaining that if he wants his film to be a hit they need a big star, like Burt Reynolds or Ryan O’Neal. (They take a moment to laugh at the prospect of the slight O’Neal playing a boxer, a subtle dig at the Barbra Streisand bomb, The Main Event,which came along a few years later.)
“I play Rocky,” Stallone repeats.
When the producers take the script to United
When the producers take the script to United Artists, the cranky studio head, Sandy Maddox (national treasure Tracy Letts), still smarting from having passed on The Godfather, scoffs at the idea of this nobody playing the lead. He instructs the producers to pay him off—and we see Stallone get a handy lesson in the art of negotiation. Say no—and mean it—and the fee will continue to rise.
Stallone’s stubbornness is meant to be admirable but it borders on insanity—at one point, they offer him 300k to not star in the film he wrote. (Reminder: He’s flat broke and his wife is pregnant.) But of course, there’s no real suspense. We know that Stallone will get his wish. Winkler and Chartoff make a deal with the studio that, as long as they file the film on time and stay on a million dollar budget (a nearly impossible task), they’ll let the kid play Rocky. John Avildsen (Jay Duplass), who’s known for working efficiently, gets brought on to direct. The film goes on to be a big office smash, establishes Stallone as a global superstar, and wins the Oscar for Best Picture, with Stallone even getting a Best Actor nod (he ultimately loses to Network’s Peter Finch).
The real Rocky story is unlikely, it’s rousing, it makes you want to run up the stairs to the Philadelphia Museum and raise your fists in triumph—and gives you more than a little déjà vu.
