In a review of 1984's Rhinestone I claimed that it was roughly the point where Sylvester Stallone's career started to become derailed. Yet having watched Paradise Alley, I realise I was wrong.
It's astonishing just how rapidly the actorly ego and lack of people to tell him "no" emerged. Stallone's first two post-Rocky movies featured him in America's past. F.I.S.T (7/10) had him play a 1930s union man, backed by the superlative Rod Steiger and directed by the man behind In The Heat of the Night. Spending nearly two hours watching Stallone as a union rep is an odd choice right on the back of the commercial hit Rocky - kind of like following up Raging Bull with a pseudo-biopic of Arthur Scargill - but it's a decent film, generally well made.
Yet somehow that same year someone had convinced Stallone that not only could he direct, but he could also sing as well. Groaning the forgettable title tune, he delivers a childlike depiction of 1940s slum life in Paradise Alley, an overearnest tale that produces laughs only when none are intended. Both his 1978 films feature an arm wrestling match, nine years before he'd make an entire film around the sport in guilty pleasure Over The Top. But just take a look at the depictions of said arm wrestling matches in both '78 vehicles... Norman Jewison's is the one that's not making you cry with unintentional laughter.
Stallone isn't an awful director, but there's no reason why he should have discarded the original Rocky director for four of the sequels. (In fairness, when John G. Avildsen was brought back, then Rocky V was a famous misfire). But in just one month he moved from shooting a film under the watchful eye of the man behind The Thomas Crown Affair to shooting a movie under the watchful eye of the man behind Staying Alive and The Expendables.
The difference is hugely pronounced, as F.I.S.T has a relatively controlled and purposeful performance from Stallone, while Paradise Alley has him wholly believing he's being charming and likable (a la Balboa), instead of just obnoxious and tiresome. The character he plays in Paradise Alley is as likable a character as Stallone is good at singing. Ultimately the entire movie comes off as a vanity project, and far from a good one: the difference between the two films could not be more marked.
It's astonishing just how rapidly the actorly ego and lack of people to tell him "no" emerged. Stallone's first two post-Rocky movies featured him in America's past. F.I.S.T (7/10) had him play a 1930s union man, backed by the superlative Rod Steiger and directed by the man behind In The Heat of the Night. Spending nearly two hours watching Stallone as a union rep is an odd choice right on the back of the commercial hit Rocky - kind of like following up Raging Bull with a pseudo-biopic of Arthur Scargill - but it's a decent film, generally well made.
Yet somehow that same year someone had convinced Stallone that not only could he direct, but he could also sing as well. Groaning the forgettable title tune, he delivers a childlike depiction of 1940s slum life in Paradise Alley, an overearnest tale that produces laughs only when none are intended. Both his 1978 films feature an arm wrestling match, nine years before he'd make an entire film around the sport in guilty pleasure Over The Top. But just take a look at the depictions of said arm wrestling matches in both '78 vehicles... Norman Jewison's is the one that's not making you cry with unintentional laughter.
Stallone isn't an awful director, but there's no reason why he should have discarded the original Rocky director for four of the sequels. (In fairness, when John G. Avildsen was brought back, then Rocky V was a famous misfire). But in just one month he moved from shooting a film under the watchful eye of the man behind The Thomas Crown Affair to shooting a movie under the watchful eye of the man behind Staying Alive and The Expendables.
The difference is hugely pronounced, as F.I.S.T has a relatively controlled and purposeful performance from Stallone, while Paradise Alley has him wholly believing he's being charming and likable (a la Balboa), instead of just obnoxious and tiresome. The character he plays in Paradise Alley is as likable a character as Stallone is good at singing. Ultimately the entire movie comes off as a vanity project, and far from a good one: the difference between the two films could not be more marked.