Credit where credit is due – Michael B Jordan doesn’t pull many punches in his directorial debut. His already well established reputation in Hollywood means his first outing in charge wasn’t exactly the underdog story that fans of the Rocky-verse are well accustomed to, but there was pressure on his shoulders nonetheless.
Unfortunately, not all of those punches land. Too often, Jordan’s bravery focuses on the wrong things – he reportedly took inspiration from the anime genre when putting together his unique fight scenes, but the overall script offers little more than the stereotypical boxing plotlines we’ve been treated to since 1976.
You can predict every beat. The winner of each fight, the death of a parently figure, the inevitable reveal that Jonathan Majors’ Damien Anderson is the film’s main antagonist. It’s all been done before, and if Jordan was going to mix anything up, it should have been that.
In fairness, there are worse crimes to commit on the big screen than producing a run-of-the-mill movie confined within a genre which doesn’t offer too much scope for major change anyway. Instead, the director’s real inexperience showed in two key areas – the film’s pacing and dialogue.
Pacing is the main issue. While we do get to spend some valuable time with the characters, particularly throughout the first hour or so, too many sections are inexplicably rushed.
Take Adonis Creed’s comeback. He hasn’t boxed for three years come the film’s events, but is drawn back to the ring by his former best friend’s brutal accession to the top of the sport. There is no patient build-up to the fight between the two which has been brewing for the best part of two decades – there are no heated press conferences, setbacks or second thoughts. Creed just goes through another right-of-passage training montage, fights, and wins.
The rapid-fire way with which Anderson is handed a world title shot is also quickly contrived in a bid to get the film rolling, while the death of Mary Anne Creed happens in a flash and is forgotten just as quickly (why Tessa Thompson’s Bianca Taylor phones her husband on his dying mother’s phone will forever be a mystery).
A movie’s pacing is often overlooked, but it plays such an important roll – ignore it altogether, you churn out messes like Star Wars: The Rise of Skywalker. Jordan will improve with time, but his debut suffers because he doesn’t quite hit the nail on the head.
Likewise with the dialogue; not everyone is a Quentin Taratino, directing conversations so realistic that you sometimes forget you’re watching a movie, but Creed III too often falls foul of some one-liners that wouldn’t feel out of place in a Marvel project.
There are too many cuts – never a good thing, as the cast has to resort to speaking in chunks to a camera rather than to other people. Again, it’s by no means awful – and by taking these lessons on board, the fourth installment in the franchise, also to be directed by Jordan, should offer a step up in quality.
The experimentation in Creed III is intriguing if not entirely worthwhile. The anime style employed during the in-ring segments certainly offers something different, but it doesn’t quite work. Boxing is not a slow-motion sport and should not be treated as such.
The biggest subversion in expectations comes in the feature bout between Creed and Anderson. After two quick-fire rounds, a packed-out crowd is substituted for a metaphorical sequence in which the two battle both themselves, imaginary prison bars and their past demons all in one.
It’s all rather cool and works relatively well – at least until you realise its main purpose was giving the writers a cheap way to skip through nine rounds of the bout, rushing to a predictable climax in which Creed is knocked down before sealing a dramatic victory himself. Once again, pacing issues rear their ugly head.
But there are plenty of positives. Performances are outstanding across the board, as you’d expect – Majors is impressive, and Jordan is in good form himself when he’s not shouting triumphantly into mid-air, which comes across somewhat awkwardly.
Tessa Thompson takes something of a back seat, unfortunately, and her relationship with Jordan – the backbone of the franchise – does the same. The writing team attempts to salvage it at points by flagrantly breaking the show-don’t-tell rule and blurting out the precise issues the two are facing, but that method predictably fails.
The Dreamville soundtrack is strong enough and fits in with the movie’s overall vibe, and the visuals are exquisite – perhaps too clear, actually. There’s something special about a grainy-textured boxing film, so maybe it’s just strange seeing one with such high definition.
And what of the Rocky Balboa-shaped elephant in the room? Well, Creed III certainly doesn’t suffer in his absense. It’s good to see the film stand on its own two feet without his legendary presence, and credit goes to Jordan for filling that void so effectively – although perhaps a line or two on Sly Stallone’s whereabouts could have been beneficial?
But Jordan can hold his head high after this debut. There are one too many flaws for it to be considered an impeccable start, or even an overly strong one – but if he learns from his mistakes, the next Creed installment could be a knockout.
Rating: ★★★☆☆
A Critical Eye 