Rocky is a film that is easy for me to review. I am so acutely familiar with its rhythms and idiosyncrasies. Its ebbs and its flows. I have seen the film so many times and internalized it so much that, at this point, the film is basically me and I am basically it.

Perhaps the most iconic boxing drama of all time, Rocky is the brainchild and lifelong passion project of Sylvester Stallone, who has played the character for nearly 50 years and once referred to him as the best friend he ever had. The legend is that Stallone was down to his last nickel in 1975 when his script was first optioned by United Artists but refused to sell unless they agreed to let him also play the lead role.

On some level this feels like one of those apocryphal tales that a self-masturbatory industry like Hollywood likes to tell about itself. But regardless of if it’s true, there was undeniable passion and authenticity behind this fairy-tale story of a Philadelphia-area palooka who is given a “million to one shot” at the world heavyweight title.

Those qualities shine through in almost every aspect of the production. Shot on-location, James Crabe powerfully captures the insanely gritty streets of 1970s Philadelphia. Editors Richard Halsey and Scott Conrad also deserve plaudits for their Oscar-winning work, stitching together extraordinary sequences of training, fighting and even just characters going about their daily lives.

Director Jon Avildsen makes the most of what I am sure were thinly stretched resources (the film was supposedly shot for under $1 million dollars). The late filmmaker also won an Oscar for his work here, and it was richly deserved. He marshals the abovementioned craftsmen to reach the best of their abilities, creating one innovative and iconic sequence after another, including the legendary meat-punching scene, the ice-skating date between Rocky and (Yo!) Adrian and, of course, the THRILLING training montage set to Bill Conti’s soaring, Oscar-nominated song “Gonna’ Fly Now.” 

All of this is predicated on Stallone’s rock-solid script, which tells a well-worn story but is not as predictable as some commentators might lead you to believe. Although I concede that it is basically a classic American fable informed by Stallone’s own rightwing politics. I still maintain that Rocky is innovative for how its central conflict takes place not in the ring but in the mind and for how victory is defined not by a belt but being able to look at yourself in the mirror.

Bringing to life Stallone’s writing is a cast of truly extraordinary actors, almost all of which were nominated for Oscars in their respective categories. In addition to Stallone in the title role, we have Talia Shire, who plays Rocky’s sweet and sensitive girlfriend Adrian; Burt Young as Paulie, Adrian’s abusive, alcoholic brother who doesn’t like his sister being “busted”; Burgess Meredith as Rocky’s ferocious trainer Mick; and the recently deceased Carl Weathers as Apollo Creed, the heavyweight champion who gives Rocky his once-in-a-lifetime shot. Peppered throughout are also some pretty amazing character actors like Joe Spinell, who plays a “cheap, second-rate loan shark” that Rocky works for.

All of these actors really couldn’t have played their roles better, and nearly 50 years on, it is almost impossible to think that anyone else could have either. Yet amazingly enough, it is Stallone who offers the greatest performance throughout the film. His Rocky is iconic in every sense of the word, and Stallone acts the hell out of him. Every choice, every action, every element of Rocky seems intentional and planned out. And it is Stallone’s commitment to fully embodying this man that he has become an immortal entry in the pantheon of American movie characters.

There are very few films that have ever stuck with me like Rocky has. It changed my life. I have seen it probably dozens of times, and each go-round, I am entertained and moved. With its excellent writing, directing and aesthetics, Rocky is one of those movies that you say has been “often imitated, never equaled.” It’s a beautiful, inspiring story for anyone who has ever lamented that they “can’t sing or dance,” wondered if they “can go the distance” and worried they might be “just another bum from the neighborhood.”