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Over
the Top (1987)
From Sylvester Stallone's catalogue of some of the softest films in movie history, Over the Top represents, if possible, the mushiest of them all. This is the ultimate raid on the vault of clichés. What's even more impressive is that the screenwriter (Stallone himself, of course) mostly raids his own vault. Alter a few locations and a couple of characters (though never the lead), and the dramaturgy here is identical to almost anything Stallone had written before. Filmmakers who follow the same thematic line throughout a career are often labelled auteurs, but in Stallone's case that would be pushing it. There's no fundamental difference between the story of Lincoln Hawk and the story of Rocky Balboa, except that this one is a lot worse. Over the Top is so banal and simplified that it completely defies logic. It's the ultimate narrow-sighted, Americanised worldview – the extreme polarisation of everything: intellectuals vs. "workers", rich vs. poor, good vs. bad. In this universe, everyone isn't just a stereotype; everyone is a caricature. And what's worse, Stallone expects these people to evoke emotion in us. From the silly custody fight to the moronic arm-wrestle competition, this is complete cinematic waste. To say that Over the Top is over the top would be giving it credit it doesn't deserve. It's more a case of bottom of the pit. I feel sorry for the poor, young Ray Liotta lookalike who actually makes an effort. That might go for director Menahem Golan as well, but he is so out of touch with authentic human reasoning that he doesn't really count. Shame on Robert Loggia, though, for letting himself get dragged into this project.
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