I PLAY ROCKY

Later this week, on November 6, I Play Rocky opens in select theaters before expanding nationwide on November 20. The film tells the remarkable story of how a struggling young actor named Sylvester Stallone refused to give up on a screenplay that would ultimately change his life and become one of the most successful films in Hollywood history.

I've always been fascinated by the story behind Rocky. Not simply because it is one of the great underdog stories ever brought to the screen, but because the circumstances surrounding its creation are every bit as compelling as the film itself.

Stallone was a relatively unknown actor who had spent years trying to break into Hollywood. He was nearly broke, struggling to find work, and increasingly frustrated by an industry that didn't seem to recognize his potential.

Rather than wait for someone to give him an opportunity, he decided to create one for himself.

He wrote a screenplay about a down-on-his-luck boxer from Philadelphia who gets an improbable shot at the heavyweight championship. When Hollywood came calling, Stallone faced a decision that would define his career.

He could sell the screenplay and accept a potentially life-changing payday, or he could insist on playing the lead role himself.

He chose to bet on himself.

Half a century later, that decision remains an extraordinary example of what can happen when a creator believes in a story enough to fight for the opportunity to tell it.

But there is another dimension to Stallone's experience that makes it particularly relevant to today's writers, filmmakers, actors and other creators. Although he successfully fought for the opportunity to star in Rocky, his subsequent frustration over a lack of ownership of the franchise illustrates the difference between getting your story produced and protecting your long-term interests in what you create.

The new film provides a timely opportunity to revisit both lessons.

The Story Behind the Story

On March 24, 1975, Stallone watched Muhammad Ali defend his heavyweight title against Chuck Wepner, a journeyman from Bayonne, New Jersey, whom almost no one gave a chance. Wepner knocked Ali down in the ninth round and lasted until the final seconds of the fifteenth before the referee stopped the fight.

Stallone saw something in that fight that went beyond boxing. He recognized the emotional power of an overlooked man who, despite overwhelming odds, refused to surrender.

Inspired by what he had witnessed, Stallone reportedly completed an early draft of Rocky in approximately three and a half days.

The screenplay reflected much of what he was personally experiencing in his own life. Like Rocky Balboa, Stallone was struggling to find his place in the world. He knew what it felt like to be underestimated. He understood the frustration of having something to offer without being given an opportunity to prove it.

His financial circumstances were desperate. In one particularly memorable account, Stallone described having to sell his beloved bullmastiff, Butkus, because he could no longer afford to feed him. I wrote about that moment in my book, and it still breaks my heart to think about it.

That story has become part of Hollywood folklore, and a source of encouragement for any creator who has felt that same despair before a breakthrough.

After securing the Rocky deal, Stallone tracked down the dog's new owner and bought Butkus back.

Although his recollections of the amounts involved have varied over the years, the underlying experience offers a revealing glimpse into the personal circumstances that shaped the screenplay.

Butkus would eventually appear alongside Stallone in the original film.

What makes this story so compelling is the relationship between the storyteller and the material. Stallone wasn't simply imagining what it might feel like to be an underdog. He was living it.

That authenticity became one of the defining qualities of Rocky. Audiences connected with the character because his struggle was recognizable, even to people who had never stepped inside a boxing ring.

And although the film culminates in a heavyweight championship fight, its emotional resolution has relatively little to do with winning the title. Rocky's real victory comes from proving to himself that he belongs and from sharing the journey with the people he loves.

The Fight to Play Rocky

When producers Irwin Winkler and Robert Chartoff became interested in Stallone's screenplay, they recognized its commercial potential. But there was a problem.

Stallone wanted to play Rocky.

From a conventional Hollywood perspective, there were good reasons to resist. United Artists, the studio backing the deal, saw the screenplay as a vehicle for an established star who could attract audiences, and names such as Ryan O'Neal and Burt Reynolds were reportedly discussed.

Stallone, however, understood that selling the screenplay without securing the starring role would mean surrendering the very opportunity he had created for himself.

Offers for the script alone reportedly climbed past $300,000, an enormous sum for an unknown writer in 1975. Stallone turned them down. He was willing to accept far less money and work within a much smaller production budget if it meant being allowed to portray the character.

There were other opportunities to compromise along the way. Henry Winkler, Stallone's co-star in The Lords of Flatbush (and no relation to producer Irwin Winkler), has recalled taking the script to ABC, where he was starring as the Fonz on Happy Days. The network bought it as a television movie, then decided to bring in a new writer. At Stallone's urging, Winkler offered to return the money and got the script back.

These decisions were hardly without risk. Stallone needed the money, and there was no guarantee that another opportunity would come along.

Eventually, Irwin Winkler and Robert Chartoff agreed to produce Rocky with Stallone in the lead, working within a budget of approximately $1 million.

The film opened in November 1976 and became a sensation, finishing as the highest-grossing film of the year. It earned ten Academy Award nominations and won three Oscars, including Best Picture.

Stallone had accomplished something extraordinary. He had created the opportunity he couldn't find elsewhere, fought to participate in bringing his vision to the screen, and demonstrated that his instincts were correct.

For anyone who has struggled to get a screenplay read, secure financing for an independent film, find representation, or convince someone to take a chance on an original idea, there is something deeply inspiring about that achievement.

But I think the more useful lesson is that Stallone understood something fundamental about the relationship between creative work and opportunity.

He wasn't simply trying to sell a product. He was trying to establish himself as a storyteller.

Hollywood Returns to the Story

Now, fifty years after Rocky premiered, Hollywood is revisiting Stallone's struggle in I Play Rocky, directed by Peter Farrelly, whose film Green Book won the Academy Award for Best Picture.

The screenplay, written by Peter Gamble, attracted the attention of producer Christian Baha, who championed the project. Toby Emmerich, the former chairman of Warner Bros. Pictures Group, joined the effort and brought Farrelly aboard. Emmerich has said it was Green Book that made him think of Farrelly for the material.

What's particularly interesting is that the new film encountered its own version of the resistance Stallone experienced while trying to make Rocky. History has a way of repeating itself, and little has changed when it comes to getting an independent film made.

Despite the enduring popularity of the original film, studios were reportedly skeptical about the commercial prospects of a period drama centered on its creation. According to a Page Six Hollywood report, Amazon MGM Studios, which owns the Rocky franchise, saw the script first and initially passed. The filmmakers struggled to secure financing, and the budget reportedly had to be reduced substantially before production could move forward.

The approaching fiftieth anniversary of Rocky ultimately helped strengthen the commercial argument for the project. FilmNation handled international sales, and Amazon MGM eventually came aboard as the U.S. distributor, reportedly seeing the new film as a way to draw audiences back to the original.

There's an extra layer here worth noting. Because Amazon MGM controls the Rocky rights, the filmmakers reportedly needed its cooperation to tell this story at all. Fifty years on, whoever owns the franchise still sits at the center of every decision about it, and Stallone isn't one of them.

There is a wonderful irony in the fact that the filmmakers telling a story about Hollywood's reluctance to believe in an unknown creator encountered resistance from an industry uncertain about the value of their own project.

It also demonstrates that even an established director with an Academy Award-winning film on his résumé cannot assume that a compelling story will automatically attract financing.

The challenges of bringing an original film to the screen remain remarkably familiar.

Another Actor Creates His Own Opportunity

The parallels extend to the casting of Anthony Ippolito, the young actor who portrays Stallone in I Play Rocky.

Ippolito had previously portrayed a young Al Pacino in The Offer, the Paramount+ limited series about the making of The Godfather, but he was hardly an established leading man when he learned about the project.

Rather than wait for an invitation to audition, he took matters into his own hands.

After reading a news article about the film, he hung a heavy bag in his grandmother's basement and, with help from a friend and his cousin, filmed himself as Stallone before he even had a script. His agent at the time sent the footage to the producers, who liked it enough to send him the screenplay and request a formal audition.

Ippolito kept going, filming several more scenes on his own. Farrelly has since said Ippolito was the first and only actor the filmmakers seriously considered.

He then studied footage of Stallone's early bit parts and trained at Gleason's Gym alongside Stephan James, who plays Carl Weathers, to transform himself into the young Stallone.

I find this part of the story particularly compelling because it reinforces the central theme of the original film. Ippolito couldn't control whether the filmmakers would cast him, but he could control how he presented himself and demonstrated his commitment to the opportunity.

His initiative didn't guarantee success. It gave the people making the decision a reason to take him seriously.

That is a valuable lesson for anyone pursuing a creative career. Believing in yourself is important, but belief becomes much more persuasive when it is supported by preparation, initiative and a willingness to do the work.

Getting the Opportunity Is Only Part of the Story

There is another aspect of Stallone's experience that deserves attention, particularly for creators who hope to build careers around original intellectual property.

Although Stallone successfully negotiated the opportunity to star in Rocky, he did not secure an ownership interest in the franchise that eventually emerged from his creation.

That distinction became a source of public frustration for Stallone decades later. In 2019, he told Variety he has "zero ownership" of Rocky, and in 2022 he publicly called on Irwin Winkler to return "what's left" of his rights.

To be clear, Stallone benefited enormously from the success of Rocky. He received compensation for his work on the original film and earned substantial income from subsequent installments. The franchise also transformed his career and helped establish him as an international movie star.

Nevertheless, he has publicly expressed regret about not securing an equity stake in the underlying intellectual property. This is important because creative participation, compensation and ownership are not necessarily the same thing.

For me, this goes to the heart of what we are building into our studio model. I find myself passing on projects with wonderful potential when the creators involved don't see the value in sharing ownership. Most are simply where Stallone was with Rocky: focused on industry validation and the immediate deal, without thinking about what happens if the project succeeds.

A writer can receive substantial compensation for a screenplay without retaining the underlying rights. An actor can negotiate a starring role without acquiring an ownership interest in the production. A filmmaker can receive a producing credit or participate in a project's profits without controlling how the property is subsequently developed or exploited.

These arrangements are neither inherently good nor bad. Their value depends on the circumstances, the bargaining power of the participants, the risks being assumed and the terms being negotiated.

But creators should understand those nuances before making decisions that could affect their interests for years to come. Too often, I see creators overlook those details entirely.

Stallone's original gamble was about securing the opportunity to portray Rocky Balboa. His later frustration concerned the long-term value of the character and franchise he helped create.

Both issues involve control, but of different kinds: one creative, the other economic. For writers and filmmakers developing original material today, that distinction is worth understanding.

The immediate objective may be to get a screenplay optioned, attach a director, secure financing, or persuade a distributor to acquire a completed film. Those are meaningful achievements, but they should not prevent creators from considering what happens after the project succeeds.

Who owns the underlying material? What rights are being transferred? What opportunities exist to participate in sequels, adaptations or other derivative productions? How will the creator share in the economic value generated by the work?

Not every creator will have the leverage to negotiate favorable answers to every question. Stallone certainly didn't have unlimited bargaining power when he was trying to get Rocky made.

But understanding the questions is an important first step toward making informed decisions.

The Enduring Lesson of Rocky

One of the reasons I admire the original Rocky is that its message is more nuanced than the conventional idea that perseverance guarantees success.

Rocky Balboa doesn't win the belt. He achieves something more personal by proving that he belongs in the ring.

Stallone's own experience followed a similar path. He couldn't force Hollywood to recognize his potential, but he could create material that demonstrated what he could do.

The result changed his life.

Yet the story also reminds us that creative success can produce consequences that extend far beyond the original project. A screenplay written in a matter of days became the foundation of a nine-film franchise that has grossed well over $1.5 billion at the worldwide box office and kept expanding for half a century.

I doubt Stallone could have imagined that outcome when he was struggling to convince producers to let him play the lead.

And that's precisely why creators should think carefully about both the immediate opportunity and the long-term potential of their work.

For me, the lesson of I Play Rocky is not that every writer should refuse to sell a screenplay without securing the starring role, or that every filmmaker should insist on retaining complete ownership of a project. Those positions would be unrealistic for many creators and could prevent worthwhile projects from ever being made.

The more meaningful lesson is that creators should understand what they are trying to accomplish, recognize the value of what they bring to a project, and make informed decisions about the rights and opportunities they are willing to exchange.

Sometimes the right decision will involve accepting less money in exchange for creative participation. In other circumstances, it may mean negotiating for ownership, preserving certain rights, or finding partners who share a creator's long-term vision.

There is no universal formula.

But there is something enduring about Stallone's willingness to believe that his story deserved to be told and that he deserved to be part of telling it.

Fifty years later, I Play Rocky offers a reminder that bringing an original story into the world still requires determination, preparation and the courage to take risks.

The challenge is to make sure that when the opportunity finally arrives, you understand not only what you're gaining, but also what you may be giving up.

After all, the goal isn't simply to get your story made. It's to make the most of the opportunity your story creates.

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About Ron Watermon

Ron Watermon is a creator, builder, media entrepreneur, filmmaker and the founder of STORYSMART. He writes about professional storytelling, media entrepreneurship, filmmaking and the business of turning stories into valuable assets.

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