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    Watch Carl Weathers Memorable Performances: ‘Rocky,’ ‘Star Wars’ and More

    Whether dressed in American flag shorts or dirty fatigues, the versatile actor, best known as Apollo Creed in the “Rocky” movies, always made an impression.When you look back on the career of Carl Weathers, who died on Thursday at the age of 76, certain images immediately come to mind. There is Weathers, abs glistening, in American flag shorts in the “Rocky” movies. Or Weathers wearing dirty fatigues in “Predator.” Comedy junkies might immediately picture him waving alongside an alligator in “Happy Gilmore.” Throughout Weathers’s acting career, which followed a stint in professional football, he was associated with franchises that became pop culture sensations. But he was also a performer who was as comfortable goofing on his own persona as he was battling Rocky Balboa or a Predator. Here are some of his most memorable roles and where to watch them.‘Rocky I-IV’ (1976, 1979, 1982, 1985)Stream the “Rocky” films on Max.If you know Weathers for one part, it is Apollo Creed, the villain turned pal turned tragic figure in the “Rocky” franchise. Creed is introduced in the first film, the best picture winner directed by John G. Avildsen, as the man who both gives Sylvester Stallone’s Rocky his shot and stands in his way.A heavyweight champion who needs an opponent for a fight, Apollo has the great idea to give a “local underdog” the chance to go up against him. The first two movies find Rocky battling Creed. By the third, Rocky and Apollo have formed an alliance, and, by the fourth, well, I won’t spoil it if you haven’t seen it, but suffice it to say Apollo’s legacy looms large. When “Rocky II” came out, Weathers was already thinking about a future after Apollo. He told The Washington Post: “I’m looking for a Picassoesque role, something that will throw me into new period. I feel Apollo Creed has taken me so far, but now it’s necessary to go beyond that.” But it’s also understandable why Apollo is such a touchstone of Weathers’s career. In addition to showing off his incredible physicality, he made a character that could have been a one-off bad guy into a person you couldn’t help but root for every time he was in the ring. Now, the “Rocky” films have morphed into the “Creed” films. That would not have been the case without Weathers.‘Predator’ (1987)Rent or buy it on most major platforms.Mr. Weathers appeared with Arnold Schwarzenegger in the 1987 action movie “Predator.”Sunset Boulevard/Corbis, via Getty ImagesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Carl Weathers on Streaming

    Whether dressed in American flag shorts or dirty fatigues, the versatile actor, best known as Apollo Creed in the “Rocky” movies, always made an impression.When you look back on the career of Carl Weathers, who died on Thursday at the age of 76, certain images immediately come to mind. There is Weathers, abs glistening, in American flag shorts in the “Rocky” movies. Or Weathers wearing dirty fatigues in “Predator.” Comedy junkies might immediately picture him waving alongside an alligator in “Happy Gilmore.” Throughout Weathers’s acting career, which followed a stint in professional football, he was associated with franchises that became pop culture sensations. But he was also a performer who was as comfortable goofing on his own persona as he was battling Rocky Balboa or a Predator. Here are some of his most memorable roles and where to watch them.‘Rocky I-IV’ (1976, 1979, 1982, 1985)Stream the “Rocky” films on Max.If you know Weathers for one part, it is Apollo Creed, the villain turned pal turned tragic figure in the “Rocky” franchise. Creed is introduced in the first film, the best picture winner directed by John G. Avildsen, as the man who both gives Sylvester Stallone’s Rocky his shot and stands in his way.A heavyweight champion who needs an opponent for a fight, Apollo has the great idea to give a “local underdog” the chance to go up against him. The first two movies find Rocky battling Creed. By the third, Rocky and Apollo have formed an alliance, and, by the fourth, well, I won’t spoil it if you haven’t seen it, but suffice it to say Apollo’s legacy looms large. When “Rocky II” came out, Weathers was already thinking about a future after Apollo. He told The Washington Post: “I’m looking for a Picassoesque role, something that will throw me into new period. I feel Apollo Creed has taken me so far, but now it’s necessary to go beyond that.” But it’s also understandable why Apollo is such a touchstone of Weathers’s career. In addition to showing off his incredible physicality, he made a character that could have been a one-off bad guy into a person you couldn’t help but root for every time he was in the ring. Now, the “Rocky” films have morphed into the “Creed” films. That would not have been the case without Weathers.‘Predator’ (1987)Rent or buy it on most major platforms.Weathers with Arnold Schwarzenegger in “Predator.”Sunset Boulevard/Corbis, via Getty ImagesWe are having trouble retrieving the article content.Please enable JavaScript in your browser settings.Thank you for your patience while we verify access. If you are in Reader mode please exit and log into your Times account, or subscribe for all of The Times.Thank you for your patience while we verify access.Already a subscriber? Log in.Want all of The Times? Subscribe. More

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    Carl Weathers, Who Played Apollo Creed in ‘Rocky’ Movies, Dies at 76

    The onetime football player played a host of roles in an acting career that lasted more than four decades.Carl Weathers, the N.F.L. linebacker turned actor known for playing Apollo Creed in the first four “Rocky” movies in an acting career that spanned more than four decades, died on Thursday. He was 76.His family said Mr. Weathers had “died peacefully in his sleep.” No cause was given.As the boxer Apollo Creed, he fought Sylvester Stallone in the “Rocky” movies, the first of which, released in 1976, won the Academy Award for best picture of the year. He also notably played Chubbs Peterson in the golf comedy “Happy Gilmore,” starring Adam Sandler.Mr. Weathers displayed his range in several roles on film and television, including appearing in the 2019 science-fiction series “The Mandalorian” and in the drama series “Chicago Justice” (2017) and the long-running “Chicago P.D.”He was a linebacker for the Oakland Raiders from 1970 to 1971, and he later briefly played in the Canadian Football League. He took up acting in the 1970s after retiring from professional football.A full obituary will follow. More

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    ‘Sly’ Review: No More Mr. Tough Guy

    This documentary from Thom Zimny tracks Sylvester Stallone’s life and career, though focuses too much on “Rocky” and “Rambo.”“An actor is what he looks like,” Sylvester Stallone told The New York Times in 1976, and more than most stars, Stallone has been viewed as an action figure come to life. In “Sly,” the director Thom Zimny excavates the acts of self-creation behind a career that minted two indelible titular characters in “Rocky” and “Rambo” — whose underdog narratives proved highly influential.“Sly” kicks off with Stallone, now 77, lamenting how life whizzes by, followed by a montage set to Gang of Four’s sizzling “To Hell with Poverty.” Made in collaboration with Stallone’s production company, Balboa Productions, the film doesn’t go on to become an exposé. But it does dwell on his being the son of a violently abusive father, growing up in Hell’s Kitchen in Manhattan before a series of moves.His resulting desire for approval is par for the course among star biographies, but that hurt and his father’s vicious jealousy become the most poignant aspects in the film’s increasingly predictable path. Stymied in the 1970s by stereotypes about his looks and voice, Stallone essentially became his own hero by writing screenplays, soon manifesting success when “Rocky” (1976), which he wrote, won the best picture Oscar over “Taxi Driver,” “All the President’s Men,” “Network” and “Bound for Glory.”What ensues in this documentary is largely a pop-psychologized tour through the “Rambo” and “Rocky” sequels, with the odd outlier. Quentin Tarantino, a Stallone superfan; Frank Stallone, Sylvester’s brother; Talia Shire (Adrian herself); and Wesley Morris, a Times culture critic, offer commentary — with Arnold Schwarzenegger (who also recently got the Netflix documentary treatment) playing hype man.But Stallone’s flair for words — and his references to Arthur Miller’s “A View from the Bridge” and the 1968 dynastic drama “The Lion in Winter” — make one wish he’d talked about much more than his greatest hits and misses.SlyRated R for tough talk. Running time: 1 hour 35 minutes. Watch on Netflix. More

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    Burt Young, ‘Rocky’ Actor Who Played Complex Tough Guys, Dies at 83

    A former boxer from the streets of Queens, he became a scene stealer with his portrayals of mobsters, cops and working men with soul.Burt Young, a burly Queens-bred actor who leveraged a weary gravitas and bare-knuckled demeanor to build a prolific career as a Hollywood tough guy in films like “Chinatown,” “Once Upon a Time in America” and, most notably, “Rocky,” for which he was nominated for an Academy Award, died on Oct. 8 in Los Angeles. He was 83.His death was confirmed by his daughter, Anne Morea Steingieser.With his bulldog build and his doleful countenance, Mr. Young amassed more than 160 film and television credits. He often played a mob boss, a street-smart detective or a bedraggled working man.But even when he played a villain, he was no mere heavy. Despite his background as a Marine and a professional boxer, Mr. Young brought layers of complexity to his work. The acting teacher Lee Strasberg, who once coached him, called Mr. Young a “library of emotions.”With his no-nonsense approach, he found a kindred spirit in another Hollywood tough guy, the filmmaker Sam Peckinpah, who directed him in “The Killer Elite” (1975), starring James Caan, and “Convoy” (1978), starring Kris Kristofferson and Ali MacGraw.“Both were mavericks and outlaws, with a deep respect for art,” his daughter said in a phone interview. “They understood each other because of the intensity and honesty Peckinpah demanded. He had no tolerance for lack of authenticity.”Throughout the early 1970s, Mr. Young made memorable appearances on television shows like “M*A*S*H” and in movies like the mob comedy “The Gang That Couldn’t Shoot Straight” (1971) and “Cinderella Liberty” (1973), a drama about a sailor (James Caan) who falls in love with a prostitute (Marsha Mason).He also proved a scene stealer in a powerful, if brief, appearance in “Chinatown” (1974), Roman Polanski’s neo-noir masterpiece, as a cuckolded Los Angeles fisherman who becomes entangled in a tale of incest and murder.His true breakout came two years later, with “Rocky,” the story of a low-level hood and club boxer (Sylvester Stallone) who gets an unlikely bout with the heavyweight champion, Apollo Creed (Carl Weathers). Mr. Young played the combustible Paulie, a butcher friend of Rocky’s and the brother of Adrian (Talia Shire), the introverted woman who becomes Rocky’s girlfriend.Although “Rocky” would propel Mr. Stallone, who also wrote the screenplay, to stardom, Mr. Young often said that he had been the bigger name in Hollywood before the project began. “I was the only actor that didn’t audition in the first ‘Rocky,’” he said in a 2017 interview with The Rumpus, a culture website. “And I got the most money for it.”Mr. Young remembered his first meeting with Mr. Stallone, in a studio commissary. “He kneels down next to me,” he recalled. “He says, ‘Mr. Young, I’m Sylvester Stallone. I wrote Rocky,’” — and then, Mr. Young said, he added, “You’ve got to do it, please.”“He’s trying to twist my arm,” Mr. Young said.The film, a gritty and often somber human drama directed by John G. Avildsen, was a far cry from its sometimes cartoonish sequels, all but one of them directed by Mr. Stallone, in which Mr. Young also appeared. “It really wasn’t a fighting story, it was a love story, about someone standing up,” he said of the first movie in a 2006 interview with Bright Lights Film Journal. “Not even winning, just standing up.”“Rocky” became a 1970s landmark. It received 10 Academy Award nominations, including Mr. Young’s for best supporting actor, and won three Oscars, including for best picture.“I made him a rough guy with a sensitivity,” Mr. Young later said of Paulie. “He’s really a marshmallow, even though he yells a lot.”Mr. Young as Paulie in the original “Rocky.” The character was prone to volcanic eruptions, which including smashing up his sister’s house with a baseball bat.Everett CollectionBurt Young — he adopted that name as an actor; sources differ on his name at birth — was born on April 30, 1940, in Queens. His father was a sheet-metal worker, an iceman and eventually a high school shop teacher and dean.Growing up in a working-class neighborhood in the Corona section of Queens, Mr. Young got an early taste of the streets. “My dad, trying to make me a gentler kid, sent me to Bryant High School in Astoria, away from my Corona pals,” he wrote in the foreword to “Corona: The Early Years,” (2015), by Jason D. Antos and Constantine E. Theodosiou.“Soon, however, I got thrown out, and it was on to St. Ann’s Academy in Manhattan, getting booted out after one term,” he continued. “Finally, it was the Marines at 16, my pop fibbing my age to get me in.”He started boxing in the Marine Corps and went on to a successful, if relatively brief, professional career under Cus D’Amato, the boxing trainer and manager who shepherded the careers of Floyd Patterson and Mike Tyson. He had a win-loss record of about 17-1 — his own accounts varied — when he quit the ring.In his late 20s, he was laying carpets and doing other odd jobs when he became infatuated with a woman who tended bar, and who told him that she dreamed of studying acting with Mr. Strasberg. “I didn’t know who Lee Strasberg was,” he told Bright Lights. “I thought it was a girl.”Mr. Young set up a meeting for the two of them with Mr. Strasberg, the father of method acting, and ended up studying with him for two years. “Acting had everything I was fishing for,” he recalled. “In my life till then, I’d used tension to hold myself upright. Lee’s great gift to me was relaxation.”His many other film credits ranged from “Last Exit to Brooklyn” (1989), a harrowing adaptation of the scandalous 1964 novel by Hubert Selby Jr. about lost souls from the underside of midcentury Brooklyn, to the 1986 Rodney Dangerfield comedy “Back to School.” Mr. Young also wrote and starred in “Uncle Joe Shannon” (1978), the story of a jazz trumpeter whose life implodes before he finds redemption.In addition to his daughter, Mr. Young is survived by a brother, Robert, and a grandson. His wife, Gloria, died in 1974.Mr. Young, second from left, performed onstage with Robert De Niro, center, and Ralph Macchio, third from right, in “Cuba and His Teddy Bear,” which opened at the Public Theater in Manhattan in 1986.Ron Galella Collection, via Getty ImagesMr. Young also had a long career in theater, including a role alongside Robert De Niro and Ralph Macchio in “Cuba and His Teddy Bear,” a play about a drug dealer and his son that opened at the Off Broadway Public Theater in Manhattan in 1986 and later moved to Broadway.Mel Gussow of The New York Times praised Mr. Young’s humor-laced performance as Mr. De Niro’s partner and lackey. He singled out one scene for praise in which Mr. Young, he wrote, was “sheepishly pulling up the wide waistband of his loud shorts while insisting that he is not fat but has ‘big bones.’”Mr. Young was an avid painter who sold his work, and whose moody portraits showed the influence of Picasso and Matisse. “I don’t think you can put me in a bottle as an actor or an artist,” he said in a 2016 video interview. “Perhaps the acting, I’m a little more structured.”In acting, he added, he zeroed in on precise emotional cues to express, say, greed or anger — to “fatten up” his characters.Little wonder, then, that his Paulie in “Rocky” leaped off the screen with volcanic eruptions — tossing his sister’s Thanksgiving turkey into an alley in a fit of rage, smashing up her house with a baseball bat.“Paulie was a pretty ugly guy many times,” he said. But, he added, “they miscast me.“I’m a lovable son of a gun. It’s just that I go astray here and there.” More

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    TV Is Full of Stories About Creative Work — Minus the Work Part

    HBO’s “Hacks” is more interested in its characters’ personalities than their output. But plenty of great stories have been told about the creative process itself.The premise of HBO’s smart hit comedy “Hacks,” just finished with its first season and renewed for a second, is that a played-out older Las Vegas comedian, Deborah Vance, ends up paired with a canceled and unemployable Gen Z comic, who is meant to help her write new material. Both of them view the association as beneath them. Deborah has always written her own material. Ava, who shows up for the job without even researching her new employer’s work, smarts under the perception that Deborah doesn’t regard her as very talented.When, in the second episode, a flat tire leaves them stranded in the desert, Ava begins to complain that Deborah is making the job unnecessarily hard, even though Ava is “good.” Deborah, regally outfitted in a flowing robe and parasol, responds coldly. “Good is the minimum,” she says. “It’s the baseline. You have to be so much more than good.” Even if you’re great, she says — and even if you’re lucky — you still have to work, and hard, “and even that is not enough.” Deborah doesn’t respect her new employee because Ava has done nothing to earn that respect and has in fact done much to discourage it. She then abandons Ava in the desert.Deborah may be a highhanded, abusive boss, but she is also right. Watching this show, though, you sometimes wonder if it believes her. Like most shows about creative endeavors, “Hacks” commits to the idea that its characters are hustlers: Deborah, in particular, is ruthless when it comes to keeping her Vegas time slots. But one thing that is rarely on the table in shows like this is real failure. (Deborah might lose her slots, and Ava her job, but we’ve seen enough of these stories to suspect those would only be stages on the way to their eventual success.) And despite Deborah’s speech, one thing we rarely see her and Ava do is actual work, hard or otherwise. They bounce jokes off each other, briefly, in the first episode, and Ava pitches Deborah a few times. We see Deborah’s standup, but aren’t offered much insight into her process. We barely see Ava’s work at all. These women are in comedy, but for all it matters to the show, they might as well be in car sales. At least in a show about a dealership, you would see them sell some cars.Taking failure off the table, rarely depicting creative work — these are linked choices, and in making them, “Hacks” is hardly alone. Even outside the realm of TV and film, you find things like Sally Rooney’s novel “Conversations With Friends,” about a poet whose poetry never appears in the book; everybody says she’s great, and we’re left to imagine why. You wouldn’t watch “Rocky” and expect to see neither training nor boxing, but in stories about artists, it’s typical to relocate all the struggle, all the drama, into the protagonists’ personal lives. They are blocked creatively because they are blocked personally. Or they are fine creatively, but personal conflict erupts right before the big show and pours out in their performance. The work, the talent, is a given. The story is elsewhere.“Hacks” is not centrally concerned with the business of show business. Its biggest story lines involve changes in gender politics and tastes — in comedy, but not only comedy — across generations. The show that Ava eventually pushes Deborah to write sounds personal, confessional, more like Hannah Gadsby’s “Nanette” than a Vegas comedy set. But we never see it; we’re only told it bombed, which might have been interesting to watch. Ava’s other major intervention is accusing Deborah of not sticking up for other women, which leads to a scene in which Deborah lectures a male heckler, then pays him $1.69 million to never again enter a comedy club. “Hacks” can get away with this — can avoid showing its characters developing their work — because we accept the premise that they are both talented. If it wanted to suggest they were bad or mediocre at what they do, we would have to see it.They assert that failure lies at the heart of all art, and that any story about art is a story about progressive failures.There are works out there about people who are artistic failures. Some have no talent, while others just have no luck. In the first two minutes of Elaine May’s “Ishtar,” we watch the two protagonists writing a song together, testing out lines, discarding what works and keeping what doesn’t. They do this throughout the movie, even in life-or-death situations, because writing songs is what they care about. The joke is that they are fine-tuning songs that are incredibly, unsalvageably bad, working toward an ideal of aesthetic perfection shared by nobody but them. This creative process is faithfully recreated by May, step by painful step, because the movie is ultimately about two guys who will never be what they want: great songwriters.In Tim Burton’s “Ed Wood,” we watch the titular director of comically hokey B-movies as he crafts “Plan 9 From Outer Space,” famous in some circles as the “worst movie ever.” Unlike May, Burton doesn’t leave the question of why Wood’s movies are so bad as a kind of holy mystery. They’re bad because Wood doesn’t attend to his actual work: He buzzes with such enthusiasm that he films one take of everything, no matter how bad. Like “Ishtar,” the film celebrates this delusional commitment by structuring itself as if it were the story of an artist who eventually won acclaim — and, like “Ishtar,” it revolves around people who are difficult to root for, not because they are unlikable but because they are incompetent. The opposite may be true for Martin Scorsese’s “The King of Comedy,” in which Rupert Pupkin gets on TV by kidnapping a TV talk-show host. The big twist is that his routine is actually pretty funny; he’s just an unlikable guy whose name nobody can remember.The reason these movies are outliers is pretty simple: They were all bombs. (In the case of “Ishtar,” a bomb of such infamous proportions as to become a punchline for decades.) But by putting artistic struggle at their core, they assert that failure lies at the heart of all art and that any story about art is a story about progressive failures. Like Wile E. Coyote chasing the Road Runner, failure chases something it will never have. But would we know anything about the Road Runner without it?Television shows dedicated to creative work, and creative failure, are harder to find. There was “30 Rock,” about a sketch-comedy show that was, pretty clearly, hacky, unfunny and poorly run. And yes, there’s probably only so much time audiences can be expected to spend watching people tinker with songs or jokes — but other kinds of television have figured out how to mix personal drama with the actual work of their characters. There’s no reason we can’t see Deborah and Ava working together; we just don’t. “Hacks” is meant to be a show about women and the work they do that goes unrecognized. But that work seems to be recognized least of all by the show. It would have been a crazy thing to dedicate an episode to Deborah’s routine and its failure to land. But it would have supplied the missing piece of her partnership with Ava. It would have been a crazy thing, but it would have made a better show, too. Source photographs: Screen grabs from HBO MaxB.D. McClay is a critic, an essayist and a contributing editor at The Hedgehog Review and a contributing writer at Commonweal. More