Now streaming on Netflix, Sly is a documentary about the life and career of Sylvester Stallone.
The documentary opens with Stallone watching as all of his belongings in his Hollywood mansion are packed in boxes so they can be shipped to his new home in New York. As I listened to Stallone talk about how you sometimes have to return to your roots to discover who you truly are, it occurred to me that Stallone is one of those people who is never not playing a role. Even when he’s not Rocky Balboa or John Rambo or any of the other characters that he’s played in the movies (or, less frequently on television), he’s still playing Sylvester Stallone, the bigger-than-life movie star who has been an inescapable part of the American pop cultural landscape for longer than I’ve been alive. Watching Stallone talk about what it’s like to go, overnight, from being an unknown to being a celebrity, I never doubted his sincerity but I was always aware of how carefully chosen his words seemed to be. Sylvester Stallone lets the audience in but he’s still careful about how much he reveals about himself.
The same can be said of the documentary, which largely focuses on Rocky, Rambo, and The Expendables, with a little Lords of Flatbush, F.I.S.T., Paradise Alley, and Cop Land trivia tossed in as well. Stallone admits that he’s not proud of all of the films that he’s made, citing Stop! Or My Mom Will Shoot! as his biggest regret. (Arnold Schwarzenegger pops up to brag about how he was smart enough to turn down the script when it was originally sent to him.) That said, there’s not much attention given to Stallone’s films with Roger Corman or for the films that he did for Cannon. Sorry, there’s no Over The Top trivia. There are a few clips from Cobra and Rhinestone but not much more. If you’re looking for a documentary about the B-movies of Sylvester Stallone, this is not it. (Interestingly enough, even films like Demolition Man — which was one of Stallone’s better non-Rocky and non-Rambo films — are also glossed over.) Beyond talking his troubled relationship with his father, mentioning his love for daughters, and a moment where he gets noticeably emotional while talking about his late son, there’s not much information here about Stallone’s private life. And again, it’s not that Stallone owes anyone any of that information. At one point, Stallone says that he hasn’t had a moment of privacy since the release of Rocky and he’s probably right. He’s earned the right to keep some things private.
Also interviewed in the documentary are Frank Stallone, Quentin Tarantino, film critic Wesley Morris, director John Herzfeld, and Talia Shire. Frank comes across as a lot more genuine here than he did in his own documentary while Talia does the best job of understanding the appeal of Rocky.
This is a documentary that will probably best be appreciated by people who are already fans of Stallone. Stallone doesn’t attempt to win over his doubters but, having been a star for nearly 50 years, Stallone can definitely argue that his doesn’t owe his doubters any effort. Watching the documentary, it became clear to me that Stallone is one of those pop cultural figures who it is impossible not to love. Everything about him, from the rough Hell’s Kitchen childhood to his decision to write a movie for himself to his decision to move into the director’s chair, is pure Americana. There’s a reason why Rocky Balboa often appears with an American flag.
(That said, I still think that Stallone’s best performance was in First Blood and, in this documentary, Stallone gets genuinely emotional as he discusses when he discusses why he felt it was important for Rambo to survive the end of the film.)
He’s a survivor and he’s confident enough to admit that he got a bit arrogant after the success of Rocky. Stallone still has that confidence that borders on arrogance but he’s aging well and it’s hard not to feel that he’s earned the right to brag on himself. (It helps, of course, that he’s become a better actor as he’s aged.) Stallone may not totally open up but he still has his movie star charisma. When he talks, you listen. When he moves, you watch. We’ll miss him when he’s gone.