The Rocky series has a long and storied history that I will cautiously admit that I’m not too familiar with. I know Dolph Lundgren played a Russian adversary at the height of the Gorbachev-era Cold War. Sylvester Stallone’s wolf-like howl for Adrian after his first heavy-weight fight is as burned into my eardrums as Marlon Brando’s wailing “Stella!!!” in the sleepy French Quarter streets. The poster-worthy shot of Rocky’s fists pumped victorious above his head atop the Philadelphia Museum of Arts stairs (today known as the “Rocky Steps”) is as iconic to me as Sgt. Elias’ Hail Mary death throes in Platoon. I know the name Apollo Creed and have a vague recollection of his relative importance within the Rocky franchise but I couldn’t tell you much aside from the fact that he was played by Carl Weathers at the height of his beefiness and that he died in the ring. That is to say, I know the iconography of Rocky, but very little else.

That being the case, I wouldn’t describe myself as Rocky-educated, much less a Rocky fanatic. And yet, I loved Creed. I absolutely loved it. And herein lies the great power of this reboot/spin-off: it rewards fans with a long-standing affinity for the series as well as turns nonbelievers into apostles. Through the perfect amalgamation of homage and inspiration, Creed becomes an entity that could exist independent of all that that came before it as well as something that still fits seamlessly into the emotional depth and history of the beloved boxing series. It doesn’t hurt to know a little bit about Rocky and his slew of bouts pre-Creed but those coming in dry will still find a picture brimming with quality and sure to suck you in hand over foot. Sure I’m late to the Rocky game but if Creed is any indication of the franchise’s quality quotient going forward, I’m more than happy to board the bandwagon.

After nearly entering the awards conversation two years ago with the critically-acclaimed Fruitvale Station, director Ryan Coogler and star Michael B. Jordan reunite for Creed and their partnership is even more fruitful than before. Coogler directs with alumni confidence and youthful pizzaz, allowing room for Jordan and co. to turn in powerhouse performances in front of the camera while also showing off a range of his surprising industrial prowess. Coogler’s technical marksmanship is often show-stopping – most notably during Creed’s first official fight that has him go two rounds and a corner break without executing a single cut – and yet he’s still very much a rookie himself at 29 years old with only two movies under his belt. Nonetheless, Coogler (aided by cinematographer Maryse Alberti) tinkers with the camera to provide some of the year’s most stellar shots, many of which are worth of their own poster (I’m looking at you motorcycle wheelie scene.)

If Creed suffers any issues, it’s that the pieces that make up the whole are largely been-there-done-that. For a boxing drama, there is little to the script (written by Coogler and first time screenwriter Aaron Covington) that could be considered adventurous and yet Creed is so well done, so brilliantly acted and so powerfully directed that you’re willing to not only overlook the cliches but cheer for them as if they’re occurring for the first time. Ludwig Göransson‘s nostalgia-inspired score has much to do with this fact. To put it in terms of The Prestige, the trick is to show you something ordinary and then prove against all odds that it is indeed extraordinary. That is Creed in a nutshell.

This is also very much Adonis Creed’s plight. Orphaned after his father died in the ring, Creed’s knack for fisticuffs has him relegated to juvenile detention, where the movie starts. Adonis is later plucked out of juvie by Apollo Creed’s widow, Mary Anne (Phylicia Rashad), who raises him to a life of luxury and an appreciation for the finer things. But as the Hulk himself could attest, you can take the man out of the smash but you can’t take the smash out of the man. Eighteen years later, Adonis wears a suit and tie to his cozy office job but still absconds to Mexico to fight underground bouts. He’s got that fire burning in him, the only keepsake from a father he never knew.

Leaving his job, mom and LA life behind to pursue fighting full time in Philadelphia, Adonis finds himself facing the harsh reality that boxing is just as much a game of street mentality as it is a construct of practice and skill. Rather than use his father’s name to propel him to instant stardom, Adonis takes on a pseudonym (Donnie “Hollywood” Johnson, lol) before petitioning Rocky Balboa himself to become his trainer. For old times sake. Reluctant to re-enter the gym (much less the ring) Rocky takes on the young Creed in hopes of shaping him to become the next big thing in the sport as a kind of payback to the friendship he and Creed Sr. shared. Along the way, Adonis develops a crush on neighboring musician Bianca (Tessa Thompson) which blossoms into another engaging emotional backbone through their exceptional shared chemistry.

If the story sounds somewhat humdrum, that’s because it somewhat is. But what I cannot emphasize enough in this review is how beautifully these characters are crafted and how lovingly their plight is handled. Adonis struggles to combat daddy issues as Rocky deals with the loss of all those he’s loved. Emotion percolates to the surface so often and with such ferocity, you’d think your heartstrings were being pummeled by a tiny boxer. My throat got so lumpy, I thought I might have grown a tumor mid-screening.

But as much as Creed is a well-acted dramatic knockout, the action beats and pump-up sequences are ungodly invigorating. As one of the most blood-boiling features of the year and marked by an epic sense of visceral acceleration, Creed will leave audiences gleeful, pleased and totally wiped out. I personally cried out as Creed’s hooks landed. I winced whenever he was struck. I pumped my fists in the relative dark of the theater on more than one occasion. This movie got me going. Forget jazzercise, just watching Creed is an aerobic exercise.

While Jordan was relegated to the outside of Oscar bubble a few years back, his standout performance in Creed should be an ace in the hole to getting his first nomination. Shockingly though, he’s not the best in the feature. That prize goes to Sly Stallone himself, who is simply a knockout here. I’d heard buzz about his performance stirring since its premiere but didn’t believe a word of it. Until I saw it myself.

Stallone’s sixth turn as the Italian Stallion is easily the most potent performance he’s given in his career and sings out Sly’s deep-seated love for the character that he first played in 1976. There’s something to seeing a strongman fail to hold back tears that just tears my heart out and Stallone does it almost effortlessly. Take as comparison, Mickey Rourke in The Wrestler. That was a performance built for him and him alone and he fit into it like a glass slipper. So too does Stallone own his role and, with Coogler writing and directing, it’s become one that’s worthy of celebrating. Through a career riddled with jokey personas and larger-than-life action standees, Stallone turns in a truly once-in-a-lifetime performance where you never once see him acting. Let the Oscar gods rain favor down upon him.

CONCLUSION: ‘Creed’ is vibrant, emotional and exciting as all hell. Ryan Coogler and Michael B. Jordan reunite to deliver a spin-off unlike most; a film that’s both crowd-pleasing and objectively excellent.