Creed III: prizes melodrama over boxing with a light jab of sibling rivalry
Without Stallone starring in or co-writing a Rocky franchise film for the first time, star Michael B. Jordan steps in to direct the second Creed sequel with a searing hot Jonathan Majors as his foe.
Creed III, USA, 2023, 116 mins | Drama, Sport | Starring Michael B. Jordan, Jonathan Majors, Tessa Thompson, Phylicia Rashad, Wood Harris, Mila Davis-Kent | Dir. Michael B. Jordan | Written by Keenan Coogler, Zack Baylin | Prod. Co.: MGM
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The latest Creed movie and ninth installment of the Rocky franchise is, for the first time, scripted without the participation of its writer Sylvester Stallone. Neither does his iconic character Rocky Balboa appear in the film nor is he even mentioned to any marked degree. The film is based on a story by Ryan Coogler (Creed I’s writer/director) and scripted by Keenan Coogler and Zack Baylin. Yet, the return from retirement angle and having to fight a former ally is similar to the plot of Rocky V. Their approach is to dial back on Stallone’s penchant for iconic American myth-making in the form of building moral character. In its place, a smaller story based on the trope of sibling rivalry is enlarged into a heavy-weight title fight. The implication is that the grudge match will heal their traumatic wounds from the past. Although “Donnie” and “Dame,” the nicknames of Creed and his new opponent, are not blood brothers but boyhood chums, their backstories function like a Cane and Abel contest for the spoils of boxing supremacy, but not, in fact, to build character through a struggle against insurmountable adversity.
This is Michael B. Jordan’s directorial debut. He is stepping behind the viewfinder, much as Stallone did after Rocky. Jordan plays to his strength by stacking the waterworks with actors making Oscar moments to heighten the melodrama. However, it comes at the expense of the boxing itself. By the time we enter the ring for the final contest in the middle of Dodger Stadium, the emotional catharsis through boxing we bought a ticket for has been exhausted by the emotive acting in the preceding hours of melodrama.
The over-tilt on sentimentality fills the space vacated by Rocky’s absence. Instead of his pugilist pearls of wisdom on fatherhood, fidelity, and boxing, we get copious servings of domestic drama and plenty of posturing from ex-con wannabe contender Damian “Dame” Anderson (Jonathan Majors). Meanwhile, the film’s titular star, boxing champ Adonis “Donnie” Creed (Michael B. Jordan), is now voluntarily retired and prefers to manage his gym, raise his daughter, and engage in his greatest battle, keeping the wife happy.
The story’s driving force is a challenge from the past in the form of Jonathan Major’s Damian, an ex-con who served 18 years for gun possession as a juvenile. He appears out of the blue to claim it all for himself. Introduced through flashbacks, it’s an underdeveloped backstory that skips over the missing 18 years and asks us to buy in for the fun of its promise, the boxing contest between the two heavyweight actors. However, the story hardly needs a heavy-weight title match-up to settle things. It could easily be solved with a restraining order. Or by calling the cops on an ex-con for trespassing. Or simply by going to couples therapy. But instead, it’s blown up for a boxing grudge match as an excuse to get uber-buff Jonathan Majors swinging and sweaty.
If you’re buying a ticket for Majors, you will be handsomely rewarded as he is a star on fire like no other currently. But if you’re here for the Rocky franchise legacy of grit, character, and boxing as a way to the American Dream for the underdog, you will find it under the bus where it’s been thrown by writers Keenan Coogler (Space Jam: A New Legacy) and Zach Baylin (King Richard). Instead, you get showy performances that engage but do little to enhance the mythology of Creed beyond iterating another mass marketing event for self-aggrandizement.
The film begins with the flashback story of Adonis as a kid riding shotgun with his boyhood idol Damien Anderson. He sneaks out with him to support his backroom amateur boxing, laying down bets and cashing in on Damien’s golden gloves gift. Then, of course, one awful evening, an altercation occurs. It turns out Damian has a handgun and brandishes it in a threatening manner but never discharges it, giving himself up to the police. We are now asked to believe this led to him spending 18 years in jail and that his independent decision to own an illegal firearm, brandish it, and suffer the consequences is somehow Adonis’ fault because his temper started the incident, which Damian had to finish and then “unjustly” went to jail for. The incident was a flare-up for Donnie, who impulsively attacked his alleged abuser from the group home, Leon.
Fast forward to the present, despite all evidence to the contrary, Adonis Creed is apparently getting long in the tooth and chooses to retire after one more title contest with Ricky Conlan (Tony Bellew), whom he defeated in Creed I. This boxing sequence to start the film feels pedestrian and anti-climatic fighting the same opponent from the first film who hasn’t changed in any way. The only other major fight Creed has fought on the big screen was against Drago’s son in Creed II. I’m puzzled why Creed's retirement arc is laid down so soon when he clearly looks to be in his prime. Yet, we are made to believe he is content to run his gym, raise his daughter, and appease his wife, who likewise is also on the Freedom-35 plan that has eluded the rest of us as she transitions from performing to producing due to her declining hearing.
From out of the blue one day in oversized, non-descript sweats, Jonathan Majors’ Damian enters the frame leaning on the hood of Creed’s illegally parked black Rolls Royce Phantom (the fringe benefits of being a champ). Turn’s out Dame’s been nursing a grudge these past 18 years watching Adonis’ rise, and he’s come to take what is rightfully his, the heavy-weight boxing crown. In fact, he’s coming for it all. By unsavory insinuation, he’s eying his wife too. But that foray is quickly dropped for a lighter approach. Adonis, out of the kindness of his heart, sets him up as a sparring partner for his protégé Felix (Jose Benavidez). But Dame has too much baggage to work his way up calmly. Instead, he displays his penchant for playing dirty, which is categorized as his “style.” Apparently, rule-breaking and unsportsmanlike conduct in this film is simply a style and not subject to negative repercussions.
This all boils down to lazy writing, which prefers indulgent melodrama without building genuine stakes. The emergence of this eccentric rival from the past doesn’t pose a credible threat to Creed, the World Champion. If Creed is enjoying being retired at 35, then so be it. Returning from retirement to pummel his boyhood chum isn’t going to change anything in his world, despite the script’s insistence of it being the only way to stop him. The story only serves to bring Adonis out of retirement with little incentive, given that he’s already set for life outside the ring.
The L.A. influence of living the high life is the insidious corruptor of the franchise’s deep-rooted theme: to struggle in the face of impossible odds, which doesn’t include pre-mature retirement built from untold wealth, i.e., Freedom-35. There’s an incongruent moment to the rest of the film’s in-your-face capitalism when Creed is ashamed to see his five-story high billboard next to the freeway when he drives by it in his elite ride. A smug smile on the corner of his lips—for achieving his Hollywood Hills fantasy from nothing as an orphaned boy—would align better with the franchise’s themes of capturing the American Dream. I doubt George Foreman ever looked at himself askance in a grill hawking advert. This film wants it both ways: give me the high life, but also, don’t stop feeling sorry for me at the same time. As for the legitimacy of Creed’s retirement, he sheds that in a heartbeat. In the trailer, you can see him pull an airplane down the runway like a yoked ox—some retirement.
The film comes down to buying a ticket to watch Jonathan Majors as a scrappy rambunctious boxer, which is exceptionally captivating like all his performances. Beyond Majors grabbing the spotlight, there are no legacy reasons to watch this film. It adds little to the Adonis story, which uses a title fight as a substitute for therapy. Of course, nothing in the Rocky legacy is furthered with the complete absence of Stallone from the film—though still getting a producer's credit no doubt contractually bound, as he disagreed with the darker storyline and stepped away. Still, his words of wisdom from the first Creed film is the one thing that propels Creed into the ring for the final bout, “one step, one punch, one round at a time.” He repeats like a mantra.
SPOILER ALERT
The following paragraphs until the next warning reveals SPOILERS on characters and the approach to filming the final fight sequences.
The only shocker in the film is that they kill off Phylicia Rashad’s Mary-Anne Creed. This felt as unnecessary as Creed’s retirement, given that she presents as healthy as ever. Having already cut out Rocky as an elder, axing its matriarchal source of wisdom feels unnecessary and applied with callous disregard. I shudder to think it was done only to exploit more tears to heap on the melodrama by adding her character’s passing. Her funeral is subsequently glossed over like a music video montage, including a service from which Rocky is missing to support his “adopted son” Adonis through his grief and also to pay his respect to Mary-Anne for having re-united them in the second Creed movie.
In the final fight, the usually reliable fight montages that deliver large-scale emotional catharsis and provide the reason we sit through the melodrama in the first place are significantly shortened in screen time. Instead, they add up to a condensed sequence that delivers little to no tension, having foretold the conclusion as far back as the trailer and other marketing materials.
Unlike previous franchise films, the fight scenes deliver no tactical story or a new strategy necessary to defeat a new contester. What's more, the final fight doesn't even try; it gets a round or two in and then descends into visual flare by taking a surrealistic turn. Doing so avoids the harder work of telling an athletic story of overcoming mental fatigue as physical defeat sets in. There is no digging for the mettle that molds character to find heart and courage in the face of fatigue and pain, to continue against all odds. Instead, quickie flashbacks to the previous films are leaned on to accomplish this.
What’s more, this approach negates the need for inserting side coaching between the rounds. The absence of Stallone’s Rocky is, through this strategy, conveniently minimized. Stallone previously stepped into the Burgess Meredith role with so much heart and wisdom in the first Creed movie that he was Oscar-nominated. Wood Harris, who is great in the series, gets the promotion here but is not yet at that sage level to meet the demands of the role and hence cut out of coaching the final fight.
There is a surrealist montage of prison bars that come up out of nowhere, never having been introduced as a filmic trope anywhere else in the movie; suddenly, the visuals invade the final fight as if a horror movie is rising from the boxing ring to high jack this low-intensity brother will kill brother story. The audience disappears, and the color palette gets desaturated. The funny thing is that this VFX hellscape of prison cell bars clanging up around them is not even Creed’s pov. It’s Dame's vision. Watching Dame’s hallucinations in Creed’s movie is a bit of a headscratcher.
The surreal montage sequence ends with beads of animated sweat motivating itself into the air off Adonis’ back, as seen in the trailer. The final image is an anime-inspired double punch in unison for a catchy bit of visual symmetry out of a comic book. Then, through a Baz Luhrmann-inspired bit of eye-catching editing for a hot minute, we emerge back into realistic blows with only minutes left, sapping any emotional investment we may have had in the fight.
END SPOILER
No more spoilers ahead
Michael B. Jordan took over the helming of this film, which after the more rote Creed II, is a good thing. A highly motivated actor in a series can contribute much to the director’s chair. Jordan adds much of his flair by infusing the film with energy and dynamic scenes, playing up the gloss of L.A. He plays to his strengths as an actor by overemphasizing the melodrama, but given that it is a writing issue, he should be commended for leaning into their acting with an emotive style. If he wants himself and his cast to well up to get through them, all the power to him. However, he most shows his naïveté as a director, unfortunately, with the wrong-headed approach to employing surrealistic tactics in the final fight sequences.
By prizing his anime-inspired approach to montage, Jordan calls attention to his flare and storyboards at the cost of achieving emotional catharsis through narrative. He does a similar thing midway through when he holds on a shot that is obviously composed for a visual allegory with Dame and Creed unconsciously staring at each other with a wall in between them. However, it’s only visual poetry if it’s motivated. Otherwise, it’s just apparent and distracting. These are easy overindulgences for a young, first-time director who wants to show off a signature style. But, given time, Jordan certainly has the commitment to excel as he gets more confident applying these newfound tools of his budding craft.
Creed III borders on disregard for its legacy. The story itself is a rehash of Stallone’s Rocky V, where he is forced out of retirement to fight his young protégé, where the story beats land with impact and builds to an emotional catharsis. It seems less thought was put into breaking new ground for Creed in favor of the simpler task of a mere cosmetic update. It’s not so much continuing the legacy of a specific actor who essayed a famous role that’s as important as continuing the legacy of the stories themselves and what their characters stand for.
Rocky is about fighting with every ounce of his being for redemption and things that matter, family and country, in short, what we used to call the American Dream. Creed is certainly an icon of family, yet there is a decline in striving for a moral character in favor of living the dream of a glamorous Hollywood lifestyle. The messaging feels off. Creed fans will likely be more swayed by the Rolls Royce and the Calvin Klein billboard than pulling airplanes, having ice baths, and hitting the bag for hours of rigorous training every day just to settle a grudge match with an old friend.
Midway through the film, Adonis quips to Dame, "The women run the house. I just live here." It’s a self-deprecating line meant to get a laugh, but it’s better suited for Chris Rock than Adonis Creed. To hear Creed say this hackneyed bit of dialogue, spoken at this moment in this series which, up until now, has been about fathers and sons and a husband driven by the love of his wife, is not funny but hollow.
It’s disheartening that the titular star of a Rocky franchise film is not striving for a higher standard of moral character. Showing him unmoored in his own home, surrounded by the spoils of boxing in a museum built to himself, makes this installment feel untethered from the franchise’s central theme: the development of a man’s moral character by striving to be the best, not only in boxing but in life.
Rating
2/5
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