Let's start buildin' some hurtin' bombs

I am jumping on the Trailer Tuesday train, which I have been enjoying over at Addy's, to recommend . . .wait for it. . . Rocky Balboa. I loved it. I went with my father on New Year's Day. In addition to it being everything I need a Rocky movie to be, it's completely self-aware of its super cheesiness. It's also an homage to the original Rocky, which was well-loved and often quoted in my house as I was growing up. (Come to think of it, my father probably took me to the original.) It has the familiar grimy shot after grimy shot of South Philly. It has the awkward budding of an inspirational friendship. It has the training sequence, complete with raw eggs and the running of the steps. It even manages to squeeze in a "Yo, Adrian." It also unfortunately has the weird brand of racism and xenophobia present in all Stallone films. There's also the problem of it being an over-the-top product placement vehicle for HBO.

Nevertheless, you will be sucked in, you will be emotionally manipulated, and you will be glad that this film is able to so blatantly manipulate your cold, black, film-sophisticate heart. I dare you not to cry or at least do that shaking-of-the-head, tearing-up laughing thing or at the very very least smile a genuine smile for the simple fact of movies in our lives.