Rocky Balboa

Like its odds-defying hero, Rocky Balboa is the biggest surprise of the holiday season.

Stallone wanted this movie to restore dignity to his greatest character. He succeeds, better then anyone might have expected.

The ol' lug can't be blamed for wanting one last victory lap, but if you've got nothing to offer except benign nostalgia, just let the gloves stay on the glory-days shelf.

The film meanders along this path for a long, slow while, a primitive soap opera dressed up as street poetry.

The unfortunate effect is that of an invisible angel of death hooking Rocky's mouth with a fishing line and implacably reeling him in.

Even goodwill can't make this look like anything more than a glorified TV special. Surely it's time for the audience to throw in the towel?

It is the best of the Rocky sequels by a country mile.

When the creaky old Rocky ran up the steps of the Philadelphia Museum of Art with his newly adopted dog Punchy, reached the top, and punched the air in triumph, I wiped away a tear or two. Because those are not just steps.

Stallone manages to reproduce the lovable character with a recognizable charm and personality.

Stallone and his character are well past their primes, but instead of making the film totally preposterous, the film embraces that fact and uses it to create a movie that really captures the spirit of the first two films.