Rocky II (1979) – Review by Andrea Carnevali

Sylvester Stallone and Carl Weathers

Rocky II ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

This is the one where the franchise fully becomes… well, Rocky. The training montages, the dramatic slow-motion punches, the freeze frames, Bill Conti blasting triumphantly in the background. And somehow, it’s glorious

It seems like a rather random choice for a film night… and honestly, it kind of was.

My son and I had recently watched Rocky and, since my wife is currently abroad for work and we are fully embracing the phase of ‘no rules in the house’, or, as my son simply put it: ‘Let’s pick something she would never want to watch.’

Now, everybody is supposed to say that the first Rocky is the masterpiece. The Oscar winner. The important one. The serious character study with something meaningful to say about class, masculinity, failure and the American dream. And yes… on paper, it probably is the better film.

But my God, Rocky II is the one that gets me.

This is the one where the franchise fully becomes… well, Rocky.

This is the one with the training montages, the dramatic slow-motion punches landing directly onto sweaty faces, the freeze frames, Bill Conti blasting triumphantly in the background, Mickey screaming ‘Harder! Harder!’, Rocky running through Philadelphia while children chase after him, and endless scenes of Sylvester Stallone mumbling his way through conversations as if every sentence is being discovered halfway through saying it.

And somehow… it’s glorious.

And Stallone is not only mumbling: he wrote the mumbling too! And, believe it or not, he directed the film as well.

What’s interesting is how closely he seems to have studied the style of the first film’s director, John G. Avildsen. Rocky II doesn’t feel like a slick Hollywood sequel trying to go bigger and louder. It genuinely feels like a direct continuation of the original, not only in terms of story, but also in mood, lighting, pacing and overall visual language.

The grainy Philadelphia streets are still there. The awkward silences are still there. The strange mixture of toughness and vulnerability is still there.

Even the way scenes are lit has that slightly melancholy 70s realism to it. Stallone clearly understood that the magic of Rocky was never just boxing: it was sincerity.

By modern standards the film is surprisingly slow to start with. Entire scenes simply sit with characters talking awkwardly, wandering through streets, struggling with money, fame, pride and self-worth. Modern sports movies would probably cut twenty minutes out and add three extra montages. But that slowness is exactly why the emotional payoff works so well. The film earns every punch.

What surprised me rewatching it was just how beautifully Stallone plays Rocky’s vulnerability and simplicity. He’s terrified of failure, deeply insecure, and almost painfully gentle in his scenes with Talia Shire. Those quieter moments between them might be the secret ingredient of the whole film.

Stallone is not a conventionally polished actor, but when he’s trying to be tender with Adrian, you hardly feel like he’s acting at all. There’s something incredibly genuine about the way he looks at her, speaks to her and depends on her emotionally.

And then of course comes the build-up to the final fight, which is honestly perfect blockbuster storytelling. You know exactly where it’s heading. You know every beat the film is going to hit. And yet it still works completely.

Beautifully staged, filmed and especially edited with all the whistles and tricks that will become standard for these types of films: over-the-top sound effects, whip pans, slow motion shots. The final countdown as both Apollo and Rocky are on the floor, trying to get up, is masterfully executed.

My son was literally shouting at the screen: ‘Get up, Rocky!’

And honestly? So was I, internally at least.

We were glued to the screen for the entire running time, which is impressive considering how ‘patient’ the film actually is. Every emotional beat landed exactly as intended.

I confess I even teared up at one point (which feels mildly ridiculous given that five minutes later somebody gets punched in slow motion while inspirational trumpets explode on the soundtrack).

Do I feel a bit ‘dirty’ admitting that I may actually prefer this one to the original?

Maybe a little bit.

But hey… we loved it!

Andrea Carnevali is a Bafta winning film maker who lives in Chiswick, and a co-creator of the Chiswick In Film festival.

Read more film reviews on The Chiswick Calendar