Creed movie review: the boxing ring of truth

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Creed green light

MaryAnn’s quick take…

Feels natural and organic, not forced by the dictates of movie franchises. A smart, engaging, unsentimental portrait of male friendship and male emotion.
I’m “biast” (pro): nothing
I’m “biast” (con): nothing
(what is this about? see my critic’s minifesto)

It’s been nine years since the stunningly good Rocky Balboa, which seemed to be a fitting ending of the story of the Philadelphia boxer. Creed finds a satisfying new chapter in Rocky’s tale — one that feels natural and organic, not forced by the dictates of movie franchises — by having him step out of the spotlight in favor of a hungry young fighter, Donnie Johnson, who comes to the still-famous ex-champ to beg him for training help. Rocky (Sylvester Stallone: The Expendables 3) lets himself be drawn in because Donnie is, in fact, Adonis Creed (Michael B. Jordan: Fantastic Four), son of his rival turned friend Apollo (his very first pro opponent, in the original Rocky film).

Writer (with newcomer Aaron Covington) and director Ryan Coogler’s followup to his moving first film, Fruitvale Station, is a smart, engaging, unsentimental portrait of male friendship and male emotion, bursting with true tenderness (Stallone and Jordan are very good) and unafraid to actually confront men’s ways of dealing with feelings — like anger! — they don’t know how to cope with instead of simply spraying testosterone across the screen, like how many movies accidentally deal with masculine emotional inarticulateness. (Women get short shrift, of course; it’s disappointing to see that the fantastic Tessa Thompson has been demoted from the badass rage machine of Dear White People to the girlfriend sidekick here.)

There’s also a sharp undercurrent exploring how boxers get mythologized by the sports press and how the big business of boxing gets marketed not as man versus man but one man’s story versus another man’s story. Creed renders that as a cheap, if effective, manipulation of the reality, the principle that is always at the heart of the best movies about sports: this isn’t about throwing a punch (or hitting a ball, etc) but about life. Making your way in the world is a fight. Being true to yourself is a fight. Surviving is a fight.

As Rocky’s pep talk to Donnie goes, in the ring it’s “you against you; he’s just in the way.” I don’t even like boxing — I find it a brutal display — but there is persuasive power in Creed to make even skeptics like me believe that unconditionally.

see also:
Rocky (review)
Rocky Balboa (review)
Creed II movie review: a bout of familiarity

See also my #WhereAreTheWomen rating of Creed for its representation of girls and women.

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Sun, Nov 29, 2015 9:40pm

Emotional inarticulateness, so that’s how to describe that psychological difference… cool. I remember when my parents would occasionally work out their frustration with each-other it was usually my father that would break something then storm off for a bit. One such argument ended with my father throwing a potted plant on the floor, screaming “I love you” and then going for a sprint through the park for a few hours. They’d always laugh about those arguments afterwards, which in retrospect is probably why I was never worried that they’d ever get divorced.

I’ve read several studies that found that physically active men felt less angry and generally had more stable relationships than sedentary men. I guess it explains why my first instance of depression happened after i quit running track in high-school.

Hank Graham
Hank Graham
Mon, Nov 30, 2015 7:02pm

When I was younger, I joined the fire department. It was what I did until I’d saved enough that I could go to college. Part of our training was boxing.

It didn’t make any sense to me, at first. What on earth did putting on protective gear and hitting each other teach us about fighting fires?

As it turned out, plenty. Making us box was a way of demonstrating that a lot of the things we avoid, we can actually withstand if we need to. Which was good to know when you’re training to run IN to a burning building, instead of following your natural inclination to yell like hell and run AWAY. Basically, it taught us how to get real courage.

I was a basic, sheltered suburban kid. I’ve long since considered that this was one of the best things that happened to me.

Just FWIW.

Sounds like I’ll have to check this one out.