tmchacko

On the heels of his fabulous series THE ROCKFORD FILES, James Garner took the risk of reviving the character that made him a household name. However little faith NBC placed in this series, it remains a treat for Garner fans, far superior to the previous effort, THE NEW MAVERICK (starring Charles Frank), and thoroughly enjoyable for anyone who appreciates a Western done with style and class. Fortunately the prints are in good shape, helping us to appreciate the colour photography and production design.

The main attraction, of course, is the star, who once again had a series tailored to his own unique and very likable persona. Some have dismissed this as Jim Rockford in the Old West, but I consider that an asset. As an older, slightly heavier actor - and former stuntman plagued by injuries - Garner could not simply replay the Maverick of 25 years earlier. Instead he made the attempt to gear more lighthearted plots and characters to a 1980s audience. (Perhaps the attempt was futile, considering what most of '80s television turned out to be!)

Garner is aided by a good cast, among them Richard Hamilton, as his "Lazy Ace" ranch hand; Ramon Bieri, as the snooty bank president; Darleen Carr, as the thorn-in-the-side reporter; and Stuart Margolin, his "Rockford" colleague, as a half-Indian con-man. Country singer Ed Bruce plays Maverick's taciturn partner in the Red Ox Saloon, and lends his writing and singing talents to the delightful theme song ("Maverick Didn't Come Here to Lose").

Pity that this series lasted only for one year. My thanks, however, to the Encore Westerns Channel for providing a pleasant, uninterrupted 50 minutes of television. It sure as shootin' brightens my day!

This reworking of Anthony Shaffer's classic play did not last long in cinemas. Having recently suffered through it on cable, I still congratulate myself for not wasting money on a ticket. Director Kenneth Branagh, writer Harold Pinter, and star / producer Jude Law deluded themselves that their prestige alone could sustain this travesty through an interminable 93 minutes, without the fun or class of the longer original.

Michael Caine enhanced his reputation playing the second lead in the marvelous 1972 film. He now seems intent on destroying it by attempting the lead, played in that version by Laurence Olivier. (Both were nominated for Best Actor Oscars, but lost to Marlon Brando in THE GODFATHER.) Looking puffy and washed-out, Caine glides through the part with less depth than he displays as Batman's butler. He had already lowered himself to a guest appearance in the atrocious remake of GET CARTER. What's next -- ALFIE II, or SON OF THE MAN WHO WOULD BE KING?

But then, no one benefits from this inane adaptation by Pinter, who thinks that frequent cursing and an added sexual angle can compensate for the absence of Shaffer's witty character interplay. Branagh's direction relies on bluish lighting and a soulless set design that wouldn't hold up in a second-rate nightclub. Neither the shadows nor the tight, overacted close-ups can help Law overcome his dull screen persona. The result is a failure both as straight drama and as detective thriller, almost making you forget the purpose behind the title.

Fans of the original stage production (with Anthony Quayle and Keith Baxter) and the Olivier / Caine film would do well to regard this enterprise as a bad dream. The late Mr Shaffer, who wrote the 1972 screenplay, as well as Hitchcock's FRENZY and several Agatha Christie adaptations, must be turning in his grave, wishing he could plan a real murder or two!

Sylvester Stallone's training regimen for this film may have included toughening his hide against possible ridicule from critics and public alike. After all, the current crop of young filmgoers might only know him for "Spy Kids 3-D" and his short-lived reality TV series, "The Contender." And after the collapse of his men's magazine, SLY, and the failure of his fabulous exercise book, SLY MOVES, to hit the best-seller lists, he was in need of a lift.

The Sly Fox (all of 60) is back, I'm happy to say, putting his heart, soul, and every bit of his physical prowess into ROCKY BALBOA, the sixth, final, and best film of the series. Stallone has now brought his best-loved character to a graceful retirement.

Sixteen years after ROCKY V, Stallone is refusing to allow that inane, incoherent mess to serve as the last word on his very personal creation. Stallone has matured as a filmmaker, offering the most tightly-controlled, heartfelt film since the original. He also applies this maturity to his portrayal of Rocky Balboa: smooth but not smug, likable but not cute, sympathetic but not maudlin. He brings with him an excellent supporting cast. Certainly this film stands head-and-shoulders above ROCKY IV, a desperate, hastily-made homage to the dime-store patriotism of the Reagan years (complete with an ugly "Russian" opponent).

Having been fleeced of his fortune by crooked accountants (in the previous film), Rocky has returned to his roots in a rundown part of Philadelphia. He has, in the interim, lost his beloved wife Adrian to "woman's cancer" and opened a restaurant. ("Adrian's," what else?) His son (Milo Ventimiglia) clambers for a foothold in the corporate world, while his insecurities compel him to keep his father at arm's length. Burt Young returns as Paulie, Rocky's cynical brother-in-law, saddled with guilt about his late sister but always supportive of Rocky.

As Rocky struggles to make ends meet and manage his grief, the boxing world has moved on to ESPN, HBO/Pay-per-View, snottier, know-it-all commentators and, most significantly ... computer animation! The reigning heavyweight champion, the marvellously-named Mason "The Line" Dixon (real-life boxer Antonio Tarver), is not the one-dimensional villain of previous contests: neither the angry sadist of III, nor the giant Marvel Comics automaton of IV. Despite his success, he has yet to earn respect on the level of say, a Rocky Balboa. Even his managers are tired of his petulant, chip-on-the-shoulder attitude, as they make clear in a superbly played scene. Go easy on the old guy, Dixon is advised -- it still means a fatter paycheck, bigger crowds, greater prestige, and finally, respect just by being linked with the name Balboa. "You're one crazy old man!" he tells Rocky, who replies, "You'll get there."

Rocky's charm hasn't diminished with age. He develops a pleasant friendship with a young single mother -- nicely played by Irish actress Geraldine Hughes -- and reaches out to her grown son (James Francis Kelly III). He even gives new life to a scruffy, abandoned mutt -- subsequently named Punchy -- who ends up accompanying Rocky on his training runs. His restaurant is filled with boxing mementos, while the customers are regaled with anecdotes of the good old days.

My quibbles with the film are minor: firstly, the lack of a proper reunion scene with Tony Burton (veteran of the earlier films), who plays Duke, Rocky's trainer. He appears suddenly for the press conference, and then for the training montage. Perhaps some scenes were cut by the studio; regardless, Burton deserved a bigger role. Secondly, I might have done with one less flashback or photograph of Talia Shire, as Adrian. And finally, even two seconds of Mike Tyson is too much!

Clark Mathis's cinematography captures the grittier, no-frills quality of Rocky's current life, casting aside the comic book colours perfectly suited to ROCKY IV. Bill Conti's original score returns to stir the blood and quicken the pulse, especially when the well-known theme "Gonna Fly Now" flies out over the training sequence. Some of my fellow filmgoers were groaning, too, watching Stallone strain against those Olympic-sized barbells! (There's a flash of Rocky's "nutritional" preparation, inspired by the first film.) The match is tough and realistic but not overly graphic, presented as an authentic HBO/PPV event set against the glitz of Las Vegas. In fact, it is one of the best boxing sequences ever created for film, without excessive slow-motion shots and leaden 1980s sound effects being shoved down your throat. The conclusion is dignified and credible, as is the film overall, absolutely uplifting for those of us in the 50-plus range! Even the end credits are fun to watch, a fond "Thank You" from Sylvester Stallone to his fans. As Rocky takes his final bow, only the hard-of-heart could refuse to cheer along with the crowd in this sequel that can proudly stand on its own.

During this past Christmas season, ROCKY BALBOA had the warm feeling of one last reunion with an old friend.

So welcome back, old friend -- and farewell!