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Before he was Rocky Balboa or John Rambo, Sylvester Stallone was, well, pretty much nobody. He was just another kid who came to New York to be an actor and discovered that, according to various agents and so-called experts, he didn’t have a chance. His look was wrong; his speech was wrong; everything was wrong. But Stallone wasn't the kind of guy who meekly accepted defeat, and so he made his own opportunities. This memoir charts his early years, from childhood through his first small successes—a meaty acting job here, a screenplay sale there—right up to the spectacular triumph of the 1976 hit, Rocky, a film he wrote and absolutely would not sell, no matter how much money he was offered, unless he was allowed to play the lead character. This is an inspiring memoir, funny and charming and exhilarating, written with the kind of honesty and self-examination that makes us feel as though we haven’t encountered Sylvester Stallone, the movie star, but rather, the man behind the celebrity image.

Kirkus
Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.

The noted actor relates the years leading up to the film that made him a leading man. Born Tyrone Gardenzio Stallone, known as “Mike” and then “Sly,” Stallone grew up on decidedly mean streets. Things weren’t better at home, with a father quick to violence (“he broke a lot of furniture and punched a lot of walls”) and a mother “obsessed with fame.” Popular in school, a born athlete, Stallone was also driven early on to educate himself out of his tough Philadelphia neighborhood and become someone. Readers used to his often-meatheaded affect on screen may be surprised to learn of his impressive credentials as a writer—and an authority on Edgar Allan Poe, to boot. They may also be surprised at how well written his memoir is, unflinching as he reveals difficult moments (a brief spell in jail, an earlier stint in a juvenile psychiatric ward, his mother’s odd indifference to his own fame) and fittingly inspirational as he recounts the making of his breakthrough film,Rocky (1976). “I spent years being underestimated, absorbing criticism and tons of professional humiliations,” he writes. Driven by admiration for the underground classicEasy Rider (1969), he set his sights on making a personal film. And so he did, taking it through dozens of drafts, revising as he tried various approaches to relating the struggles of a “bum” trying to—well, rise above the mean streets, “a relatable metaphor for life.” That he wasn’t fired from his own film is yet another surprise. Without much of a track record as an actor, he insisted on starring in his movie, insisted on hiring the largely unknown Carl Weathers to play Apollo Creed, insisted on Talia Shire as Adrian—and insisted on rewriting the last scene to be “uplifting, life-affirming” against the studio’s demands. Guess who won? All concerned, given the mountains of money and awards the film earned. A lively memoir in which long-cherished dreams are the real star. Copyright © Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.