Nobody went to the first "Rocky" for the finesse of the filmmaking. They went for the underdog-rooting, for Rocky and Adrian, for the unexpected sweetness, for the redemption angle, for the reconstituted boxing movie cliches that tasted not new, but new-ish. It was simply time for "Rocky," written and starring Sylvester Stallone, directed by John Avildsen. I saw it three times when it came out. With the rest of the "Rockys," the ones concerned with ego and celebrity and increasingly contrived suffering, once was enough, although No. 6, "Rocky Balboa" in 2006, wasn't bad. That one went easy on the melodrama and sent Stallone's beloved franchise character into the sunset with a semblance of class, albeit an excess of jet-black hair dye.