YO! GIVE THIS SCRIBE SOME RESPECT

I've always wondered why people have always hated on Sly Stallone. OK, I'm a tad biased since he was on every single one of my walls growing up. But, as a writer, he's given us two of the most mythic heroes in modern pop culture (all the while grossing about $4 billion for Hollywood). That's hard to do even once. Come to think of it, I'd like to think of him as John Wayne with a Fountain Pen.

This month, there is an extensive interview with Sly in GQ, entitled "Yo, America! It's Time to Respect Sylvester Stallone' and he chats about Rocky, Rambo and the (creative) path he's taken in Hollywood through the years.

Sly also chats about poetry and his love for Edgar Allen Poe and the film he's been trying to write and direct, based on the gothic writer's life.

Here are the juicy bits:

Are you still writing poetry?

I mostly write it to my wife. I have volumes of poetry. ...Dante's Inferno and John Milton? Give it up! Paradise Lost? The guy wrote it blind. Hello! After Poe? Come on.

Tell me about Edgar Allan Poe. You've been working on a Poe script forever. Why?

I was 21, and one day I went into the New York library and down into this cavernous space. The guard says, "It's a special writers section." I went in, and he says, "You might think this is interesting," and he pulled out a scroll by Poe. I started reading up on Poe and realized he is the epitome of the misunderstood artist. The more he remained true to himself, the worse it got. I went, "Wow." The other part that I related to—he was a young man who started with all this enthusiasm and originality, and in the end he was scorned for it. His dilemma was contemporary. He was hip well before his time.

So do you identify with him?

I do. I don't identify with his genius, because it's far beyond anything I could imagine. But it was like Rocky—he was just incredibly misunderstood. And eventually he gave up trying to find financial success and was just trying to find love. And I went, Jesus, what trauma! And I just related to all the pathos.

So you've written a script, right?

Yeah. I've written about ten scripts.
Do you think you'll ever do it?

I don't know if I could ever live up to the hype. Poe fanatics—I mean in an intellectual sense—they would tear me to pieces. My take is very simple: He's a misunderstood artist.
Are you a misunderstood artist?

Completely. Candidly? Yeah, and one of the reasons is, the subjects I've played, it's assumed that I am that person. And when I would try to be Sylvester Stallone, it threw people off. I was this enigma. A lot of actors were presented with wonderful projects, and they rose to the occasion. I had to write my own material. I didn't have a pedigree, like how De'Niro came through Brian De Palma. With me it was, "Who? Where'd he come from?" I was this outsider. And in some way I still sort of am. I live here, but I've never felt comfortable. I wish I were. Or they've never felt comfortable. I've never quite blended. I used to say to my wife, "I would love just to be able to act and have wonderful scripts and wonderful directors." It just has never been my lot in life. It's always been do-it-yourself.

If you could tell people in Hollywood something that they don't understand about you, what would you tell them?

God, that's a tough one. These people don't understand: I am this person. But as I get older, it's all about what you do that really tells the truth. Words? Anyone can produce words. But actions…they really do speak louder than words. So I guess I am what you see. The art, the movies, the ideology in the films that I'm involved in, is really who I am. That's my philosophy. Even though I wallow in pessimism, in the end I'm optimistic. So it's that ongoing battle.

You're a romantic.

Yeah! There you are! Totally! People think I'm foreboding and—what would you say?—a physical presence that's intimidating.

Menacing.…
Yeah, and it's not true at all. That's the character I play. But yeah, I'm a hopeless romantic. It's impossible to do six Rockys without saying, That's pretty close to who he is. One of the toughest days of my life was that last day making Rocky Balboa. I said, "I'm never gonna find this friend again. It's like I am losing part of my soul. I'll never be able to voice myself the way I was able. 'Cause this guy was allowed to do that." I lost the greatest character I'll ever come close to.

Rocky will live forever, like the Little Tramp. Amazing.

It is. When people ask, "How did you do it?" I say, "It was one of those very rare occurrences." When Chaplin—you know the stories—when he was trying on different hats? And he found this one that was too big and his shoes were too large? That was genius. But he knew, subconsciously, that if you played this little guy who had all this heart but he looked like a fool? But inside, he was brave and heartfelt and ethical. That's why Chaplin never came close again. With Rocky, they didn't want me to wear a hat: "You look like a thug with a hat." I said, "But that's part of his armor…like the Little Tramp. That's his uniform. And everything that he wears speaks volumes." Chaplin got that, and I guess I borrowed that.\