RIP Carl Weathers

Carl Weathers has passed, and while this is deeply saddening (the man got his three score and ten and then some, but was also still an active actor appearing in work that a lot of folks, myself included, enjoyed), it reminded me of an essay that I started many years ago and never finished about Weathers, Apollo Creed, and the Rocky series. I managed to finally sit down and finish that essay last night and this morning. In honor of the memory of Carl Weathers, enjoy!

As most everyone knows, the plot of Rocky is loosely based on the March 1975 Ali-Wepner fight, in which journeyman Chuck Wepner very nearly went the distance with Muhammad Ali. Rocky is a movie that is Not About Race, in the way that only an American film can be Not About Race.  It’s also the last great melodrama. Apollo Creed is a wealthy businessman who also happens to be the most talented heavyweight fighter in the world.  As a wealthy black man, he has determined to give Rocky Balboa, representative of the impoverished Philadelphia underclass, a Shot; this is not a real Shot, of course, but rather will serve as a platform for Creed to demonstrate his boxing and public relations skills. Creed’s selection of Balboa demonstrates public relations savvy; he will fight Balboa on a patriotic holiday, with the Shot coming of the form of an extremely low-odds match between the world’s most accomplished boxer and a journeyman fighter without access to advanced training facilities. We can also, perhaps, conclude that Creed believes that the powerful have some degree of responsibility in offering this Shot to the underclass, although we don’t have much evidence of other occasions on which Creed has made a commitment like the one he makes to Balboa. Creed has a clear vision of the American Dream; men are responsible for their own success, but America is the Land of Opportunity even for a journeyman fighter without much of a chance.

Now this is all obvious nonsense, and people certainly understood that it was nonsense in 1977, smack in the middle of a decade in which all versions of the American Dream were being cinematically interrogated and laid bare. But it works, mostly because Carl Weathers turns what very much could have been a transparent Ali caricature into a genuinely interesting, nuanced figure, undoubtedly the most complex character in the series. And it’s all there in the first movie; a character who is far more comfortable in the business setting than in the ring, but whose arrogance (underprepared for Balboa in the first fight, unwilling to stay away from a badly beaten Balboa in the final round of the second fight, and unprepared against Drago in the fourth film) leads to tragedy.

The American dream, indeed. But it’s Not About Race, and it NOT BEING ABOUT RACE is the biggest thing that sets Creed apart from Ali. We can quibble over the coherence of Creed’s ideological project; does he truly believe in this vision of the exceptionalism of the American Experience, or does he simply view it as the most identity to adopt in pursuit of financial and career success? I would suggest, first, that we can draw too stark of a line between a public relations commitment and a PR commitment.  Creed is a good enough salesman to understand that the product sells better when the salesman genuinely believes in its efficacy, and he has a deep enough grasp of the intricacies of the “American Dream” to suggest that he holds to many of its basic precepts.  But I think it’s largely the case that Creed does not believe that race is all that important to a conversation about the American Dream. This becomes more clear in Rocky III, when Creed makes the shift from quasi-villain to hero’s sidekick. For those who don’t recollect, Rocky is defeated in the third film by a Very Angry Black Man who probably grew up in an even worse neighborhood than Rocky and who made a variety a sexually suggestive comments about Rocky’s white wife. Clubber Lang knows who Apollo Creed is, and absolutely does not have any time for his bullshit.

Creed’s interactions with Lang suggest that the animosity between them runs to more than the personal.  Creed does not, after all, decide to train and fight Lang himself, although it is clear that he still believes himself to be Balboa’s equal as a fighter (if not superior). Given the choice Creed throws in with Rocky, retraining Balboa and getting him in shape to defeat Lang in the second fight. What’s remarkable about this sequence of events (demonstrating conclusively that these movies are Not About Race) is that Creed’s decision is entirely believable based on the character that Weathers had created over the course of three films. Indeed, it would very nearly be shocking if Creed had decided to lean in Lang’s direction; his heart obviously lay with the wealthy white guy rather than the up-and-coming Very Angry Black Man.

Anyway. We know what happens later; Creed is sacrificed on the altar of the Cold War in Rocky IV in one of the many indelible sequences that litter that film. I find it interesting that it is still viewed as appropriate in some quarters to pretend that Rocky IV is a Bad Movie, but it’s not; it’s over the top and unrealistic and propagandistic and a great many other things, but you can watch it once and probably remember 75% of it thirty years later… the dual (or perhaps dueling) training montages of Drago an Balboa are the best in the entire series. Moreover, the linkages between Creed-Balboa I and Creed-Drago are laid more carefully that you probably remember. Balboa very nearly kills Creed in the 15th round of the first fight, demonstrating in the end a restraint that Drago simply doesn’t have. The sacrifice made by Creed animates and energizes Balboa; Balboa defeats Drago; Creed’s sacrifice is redeemed and the power of his vision of American Exceptionalism is reaffirmed.  Soviet imperialism is defeated, although this is really almost an afterthought.   It’s Not About Race, but it does involve a white man beating a black man to death on international television.

And none of this, NONE OF THIS, is possible unless Creed helps Balboa defeat Clubber Lang.The third film is commonly, and to some degree appropriately, understood as Rocky’s effort to subjugate the radical black underclass (not to mention to protect America’s critical strategic reserves of white women). It is best, however, to understand the third film in context of the fourth; simply put, the subjugation of the radical black underclass is necessary to the defeat of the Soviet empire. What if Clubber Lang defeats Balboa in Lang-Balboa II?  Where does that leave us with respect to Rocky IV?

1. Clubber Lang has no interest in fighting Drago, who for him is no more relevant a threat than the American white folk who are the source of everyday repression.  American toughness, credibility, and resolve go undemonstrated, leaving the door open for Soviet imperial domination.
2. Clubber Lang is defeated by Drago, and lacks the “eye of the tiger” necessary to the restoration of American power and glory through the medium of a second fight.  Do either Creed or Balboa travel to the Soviet Union to defeat Drago in a second fight? Of course not; American unity of purpose is never demonstrated, leaving he door open for Soviet imperial domination.
3. Perhaps worst of all, Clubber Lang defeats Drago, but not, fundamentally, as an American fighter.  He does not wear Stars and Stripes trunks; he does not invoke nationalist glory; he rejects the idea that the fight represents anything more than the collision of two individual boxers. American nationalist identification, and indeed the entire concept of American exceptionalism, is thus rendered moot.  Whether or not Soviet imperialism remains unchecked, there’s hardly any point to being an American anymore.

This is a reaffirmation of Creed’s basic ideological project; the idea that the American ideal represents the unity of class and race through the medium of opportunity, no matter how distant or unlikely that opportunity may be. It’s also altogether appropriate that Ivan Drago (of all fucking people) gets a redemption arc while Clubber Lang disappears into the ether. America will forgive a murderous Soviet Supersoldier before it will forgive a Very Angry Black Man, and Adonis Creed becomes best buds with the son of the man who beat his father to death.

But to reiterate, none of this happens unless Carl Weathers breathes life into what could have been a paper-thin caricature. It’s not just the words on the page; Weathers infuses the character with an energy, enthusiasm, and charisma that is compelling and believable. It is not at all surprising that the revitalization of the franchise around Michael B. Jordan is built fundamentally around the memory of Apollo Creed rather than around Rocky Balboa. It’s also worth noting a few of my other favorite Weathers’ roles. In Predator he’s cast as the Paper Pushing Bureaucrat in the action drama, an insane decision that somehow works in one of the most testosterone-drenched ensembles of the 1980s. In Arrested Development he taught us all how to make stew. In the Mandalorian he lent instant credibility to the hero; who but a true Man of Violence could earn the trust and respect of Carl Weathers?

Rest in peace, Mr. Weathers.