Expectations are a fascinating beast. I spent years avoiding the sequel to 2015’s outstanding Creed, which turned Ryan Coogler into one of THE directors to watch and made Michael B. Jordan a household name. The other day, I finally put it on. All my worst fears became realized the moment I was bombarded with a litany of Rocky continuity minutia, and even worse, banal domestic drama. A turgid experience, it’s little wonder there’s muted anticipation for the next film, mostly centered on Jordan taking over the director’s chair.
Ahead of its release, I recall a number of theories, some in jest, that the third installment would find series hero Adonis Creed taking on the son of Clubber Lang. Lang, being the antagonist of Rocky 3, and setting up the series – to quote my pal Matt Goldberg at our screening – “Adonis must fight all of Rocky’s enemies’ sons!” Keeping that very funny thinking in mind, there is some notable similarity between this third Creed installment and its counterpart in the Rocky franchise. Both films find their central hero as a long time champion, growing beyond boxing into superstar status, veering into the next phase of their lives. Both films also introduce an antagonist that has none of the hero’s resources, having just been released from prison, but want a shot at the champ. The connecting tissue differs, but the parallels are striking. It’s also arguable that the struggle between Dame (Jonathan Majors) and Adonis is an inversion of the Rocky/Apollo feud, but with the audience sympathy reversed. It’s an intriguing blend.
The script, as always, remains the thing. While Creed 3 sets its warring combatants with a shared tragic background, albeit an underwritten one, it still goes out of its way to rely on cliches. The experience becomes cheapened for anyone expecting the kind of lightning in a bottle the first film offered. It’s a competently made film, and a good showcase for Jordan as an actor turned filmmaker. But, as if to avoid all of the pitfalls of the second film, Creed 3 displays almost no ambition whatsoever. It might as well have been called Creed 3: Meat and Potatoes.
For most audiences, that’ll be just fine. Jordan and company offer up a solidly written rivalry, they firmly background any other characters at the expense of that duo (Tessa Thompson follows up her wallpapering in the latest Thor with an even more thankless role here), and the fights are largely well shot if lacking storytelling weight. While Jordan could do this in his sleep, Majors is carrying the majority of the weight. His halting speech patterns and a roiling anger that bubbles just under the surface give way to a character that has been chewed up by the system and done a great injustice. Dame and his attempted path to self-redemption is the reason to watch this third go at something that’s already been perfected.
Once the film’s second half kicks in, a lot of the promise instilled in the first act is stunted as an absurd plot twist knocks down all of the pieces that were so carefully being built up. There’s also a blatant medical ailment equivalent of a Chekov’s Gun that does little but pad the running time. And just when you hold out hope that your expectations might be subverted, a knockout blow is just around the corner.
I’m sure it’ll have its adherents, and I don’t dislike Jordan’s overall effort, but it could have been so much more and as the days tick on since viewing Creed 3 that’s all I’m thinking about.