Opinions Vary: Rocky IV Is a Cold War Musical Extravaganza

In case you missed it, it was recently announced that Rocky: the Musical, the tuneful reimagining of the Oscar-winning film and current hit in Germany, will be coming to Broadway in the near future. A brainchild of none other than Sylvester Stallone, the production transports the classic boxing story from the screen to the stage, to a genre whose aim is to not only capture the eyes of the audience, but their ears as well (without the need to cast Mike Tyson). So American audiences will soon have the opportunity to do more than just cheer on their favorite all-American underdog; they will be able to sing along with the prized pugilist, lyric for mumbled lyric.

This development may seem like a far cry from its original version to many die-hard fans, but in actuality this newest rendition shouldn’t be all that surprising because there’s always been a strong musicality ingrained in the series. In fact, starting with Rocky, a movie driven to great heights in part by its unforgettable theme, many of the successive movies take a cue from that success by following in step, becoming more and more discernibly music-oriented. Rocky II is more or less an extension of the original’s tone, narratively and musically. Rocky III, going above and beyond that, utilizes more popular music with “Eye of the Tiger” by Survivor, a song that now defines the series as much as the theme. But the true apotheosis of this phenomenon is Rocky IV, a sequel that unabashedly embraces its musicality so much so that I consider it to be a movie musical—and not just any ordinary musical. Rocky IV is the Yankee Doodle Dandy of 80’s Cold War politics, a propagandistic extravaganza that deals more in stars and stripes than it deals out one-two punch combos.

Similar to the series’ deep-rooted musicality, there has always been a primal patriotic flair stemming from the original Rocky. Rocky’s ascension to prize-fighting fame started as a gimmick: As an unknown fighter from Philadelphia, he was given a shot at the heavyweight championship, his own American Dream, in honor of the nation’s bicentennial. But through his grit and determination, he eventually became America’s prizefighter. This sets the scene for Rocky IV, the most thematically consistent sequel that honors its inherent sense of Americana. In a “friendly” exhibition match, Ivan Drago, the Russian amateur extraordinaire, kills Rocky’s long-time rival/friend Apollo Creed. Fueled by this tragedy, a once-reluctant Rocky travels to the Soviet Union to face Drago in a heated bout that pits the two men in place of their two countries at cold-war with each other.

The political rivalry is always front and center and music is ever-present as well, driving their differences home. Furthermore, music is often used as psychological warfare to goad their adversary. The national anthem of the USSR is ominously presented, playing over large expanses of shadows and near-deadly stare downs. And, from the American side, the most brashly musical moment comes from James Brown, America’s Godfather of Soul. He showcases a music number, “Living in America,” that rivals any traditional musical of its day:

It’s audacious, over-the-top, entertaining–everything that Drago and his cohorts (and by extension, the USSR) are not. They don’t have music like this, nor do they have this type of pageantry. Meanwhile, Apollo is right in the middle of the action, dancing right along, and, even though Rocky isn’t as engaged in the show as his friend, he isn’t shocked by any of it either; showmanship and music come with the (American) territory, and he knows it.

Beyond the politics–so evidently enlivened by the music and the pageantry–there isn’t much else going on in the movie, and it’s constructed this way for a reason: Rocky and Drago amount to little more than stand-ins for the US and USSR. Character development is marginalized for political posturing, repackaged in the underdog story that the Rocky movies perfected. In this universe, the domineering stature of Communism can be neutralized by Rocky’s stick-to-itiveness, Drago’s towering figure chopped down to size one blow at a time by the little Iron Horse that could—and the Russians, witnessing this incredible feat, can be won over by everything Rocky represents. There’s nothing particularly dynamic about these characters. But if viewers want to witness some obvious changes in Rocky, there’s really only one place to look for them in this movie (and, to lesser extents, the others): the montage.

The movie is ninety minutes long (and that is being generous), with a good portion dedicated to music montages. Whether it’s in the form of recapitulations to catch audiences up on the Rocky saga, helpful reminders of what’s happened, or montages that show rapid change over time, Rocky IV takes it to another level in regards to plotting and musicality. In more traditional musicals, characters express themselves in song and dance, to themselves and other characters, and duly progress the story through their musical emoting and movements. Here, the main characters don’t engage in such activities. Instead, there are songs that play over images, adding meaning to what the characters feel and face, which ultimately functions the same way as in traditional musicals. The characters don’t have to sing or dance; it’s possible to understand their thoughts and feelings because the visuals in the montage are coupled with the music that gives voice to what the characters think and feel. So, after Apollo is killed by Drago, when Rocky is devastated, he doesn’t have to break into song in order to signify that musicality. All he has to do is go off and ponder to himself (and for the audience), and let the music contextualize the images rushing at him as he  drives along through the past and present:

And just as these montages offer Rocky the ability to deal with his problems, to essentially sing without singing, the montage is employed to speed along the training process, a time-honored tradition in the series that culminates in Rocky IV in not one but two training montages, back to back (divided up by a reconciliation with Adrian):

In the cold desolate countryside, Rocky’s heart is indeed on fire, preparing for the fight of his life. He lifts wagons, runs through thigh-deep snow, chops down a tree, climbs a mountain–all of which is juxtaposed to Drago’s own technologically advanced, yet sterile routine. Even when they aren’t going toe-to-tie in the ring, both men go head-to-head, countries divided ever competing; the symmetry of their workout routines brings the two beacons of nation-defining boxing closer together. And, with each boxer’s movement accentuating the other’s, their back-and-forth becomes a dance.

Rocky IV is a product of its time, not only politically but musically as well, and that period in music ultimately affected the story’s presentation as much as its meaning within the sociopolitical milieu. Obviously influenced by MTV, its montages act as self-contained music videos within the narrative, breaking up the proceedings with some popular music. And because of its overwhelming dependence on music and montages, going beyond anything else in the series, Rocky IV is something of an anomaly, more akin in its structuring to other non-singing, yet acknowledged musicals of the era, like Flashdance and Footloose.