I thought about running further to the War Memorial but was told that might be a tad disrespectful, especially in the likely situation of needing to barf eggs everywhere. My run would be an easy six kilometres-nothing compared to the 30kms that Rocky was calculated to run-from my apartment to the Philadelphia Museum of Art-esque stairs of Melbourne’s Parliament House. Slamming the fridge shut, I headed downstairs to perform the same quick stretches as Rocky, then took off into the dark streets of Brunswick. The yolk taste was kinda pleasant and breakfasty, though. And oh boy were they gross to ingest, to the point where I had to pinch my nose to get ’em down. My cat glared at me from the bed: fool, her eyes seemed to accuse, before closing for another warm six hours of sleep.Ĭracking out the right amount of raw eggs into a highball glass, I steeled myself not for the taste but the texture of the sloppy yolks. When the alarm really did ring, I jumped off the bed a bit more enthusiastically than Stallone did and got dressed in my best facsimile of his grey trackies get-up. I kept having dreams in which I was awoken by my alarm, got dressed, gulped back five raw eggs and started running, finally allowing myself to think “hey this isn’t that bad” before realising it was just my nervous brain making shit up. Not “ Gonna Fly Now“, the fab disco-inflected anthem we get later: “ Philadelphia Morning“, all mournful French horns and loungey piano. It’s when Rocky wakes up to scull raw eggs, struggling through town to limp up and then down the same concrete stair, as Bill Conti’s seminal soundtrack shades the scene with doubt. Not all of us, however, remember the earlier, sadder montage to which that scene acts as a callback. Everybody roots for Rocky, and everybody remembers the triumphant second-act montage of Stallone sprinting through Philadelphia to ascend the art museum steps, pumping his arms before raising them to the sky like he’s already beat Apollo Creed. It’s a Cinderella story wrapped in its own IRL Cinderella story. Adjusted for inflation, it cost about $5 million to make and earned back $1 billion, with Stallone’s dogged refusal to let Robert Redford or James Caan play his underdog part resulting in the immediate rise of a new action star. One of the cheapest Best Picture Oscar-winners of all time, the inspirational sports drama was scripted by Stallone in just three days when the then-adult film star/theatre usher/zoo janitor was on the brink of homelessness. Rocky-the movie, the character, and the actor behind him-stands as a blazing embodiment of sheer willpower and self-confidence. By recreating classic movie moments that look so cathartic onscreen, Eliza Janssen hopes to improve her own life, starting with Rocky Balboa’s punishing workout routine.
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