Stream It Or Skip It: ‘Stallone: Frank, That Is’ on VOD, a Documentary About a Man and His Career as a Palooka

Now available on demand, Stallone: Frank, That Is chronicles the life of a talented man who dipped his toe in the showbiz big-time, but mostly skirted its fringes, possibly because he never really got a significant break, or because he could never shake the looming specter of his significantly more famous big brother. In fact, I’m gonna try not to mention his sibling’s name over the course of the next several hundred words, out of respect for Frank, and because it goes without saying, and you already know who it is, and he’s sort of the friendly, unintended Voldemort figure of this story. Now let’s see if this film does Frank right, and spends three-quarters of its runtime delving into his greatest success — playing the bartender in Barfly.

STALLONE: FRANK, THAT IS: STREAM IT OR SKIP IT?

The Gist: It begins with a barrage of 1980s clips and celebs singing the praises of Frank Stallone. Billy Zane, Talia Shire, Duff McKagan, Joe Mantegna, Arnold Schwarzenegger, Billy Dee Williams, etc., talk about how: Frank is a great singer. Frank can really tell a story. Frank is just as talented as [REDACTED]. We see Frank preparing for a live concert, and he dons fancy cufflinks that used to be Frank Sinatra’s. Then, a flashback to childhood. He and his brother were born in New York City and later relocated to Philadelphia. At an early age, Frank showed some musical aptitude; the Stallone bros were gifted with two ukuleles, and while Frank actually played his, the other was busted over his head by his elder sibling. This, according to Frank.

Frank struggled in high school — they’d call it ADD now, he says — but found focus in music. Inspired by the British Invasion, he started a band in high school, playing guitar, singing, writing songs. He began gigging in the band Valentine, crossing paths with Philly soul mainstays Daryl Hall and John Oates, pre-fame. He moved to Florida for a bit, then back to New York, where he lived in a condemned apartment adjacent to his brother; they smashed a hole in the wall so there’d be a door to and from each other’s pad. He landed a record deal, but it fell through. In the mid-’70s, he was poor and struggling despite his considerable drive and talent, just like many other would-be artists.

And then. Green light. Not for Frank, but for his brother. Whatsisname’s little screenplay that could, about a punchy fella from Philly, begins shooting on a modest budget. Frank is recruited to play the guy singing on a street corner next to garbage-can fire, which is sort of funny and symbolic if you’re cynical, but we like Frank, who seems to be a pretty genial and funny guy, so let’s not think of it that way. Frank started getting attention: Hey, what’s it like being the brother of a fictional character in an Oscar-winning movie? Frank doesn’t seem bitter about it now, but it wasn’t an ideal situation, being recognized primarily as the guy related to the famous guy. By the way, did you know Frank is actually the one who’s a skilled boxer? He was semi-pro for a bit. Funny how the movie hadn’t mentioned it until how. Here’s a shot of modern-day Frank working out, going bappity-bappity-bappity with the speed bag. And here’s Geraldo Rivera talking about the time he fought Frank as part of a Howard Stern-related publicity stunt. Frank clocked him pretty hard a few times, Geraldo says, and we kind of wish he’d’ve clocked him a bit harder, and more recently.

Anyway, after the big movie, Frank started getting some traction with Valentine; he reprised his singing-on-the-street scene in the sequel; he ruffled feathers within the band when their gigs were billed as “Frank Stallone, Rocky’s Brother, and Valentine.” That’s showbiz for ya, eh? Some of his old bandmates pop up for some commentary about Frank’s talent and career arc, and he meets up with some of them after not seeing each other for decades. Back in the early ’80s, Frank finally gets a huge break when the Bee Gees end up contributing only a few tracks to Staying Alive, the sequel to Saturday Night Fever that happens to be directed by Frank’s brother. Frank’s recruited to pad the soundtrack, and one cut, Far From Over, cracks the Billboard top 10 and earns him Grammy and Golden Globe nominations, but not an Oscar nom, which he still thinks is bull roar. So 1983 was the top of the heap for Frank, who followed up with a few non-starter musical projects, a bunch of acting roles that hardly leave a dent (save for the one in Barfly, which got him a small shred of FYC Oscar talk) and an inability to leave the shadow of he-who-shall-not-be-named.

What Movies Will It Remind You Of?: I’d say the movie about the boxer (didja know Frank played his brother’s stand-in in the third one?) but that’d just be mean. Pair this doc — which is a fluffy, sort-of-sometimes-maybe-revealing bio along the lines of RBG or Very Ralph — with Barfly to remind you of the guy’s greatest moment.

Performance Worth Watching: Wouldn’t it be hi-LAR-ious if I put the name of Frank’s brother here? Of course, he’s one of the talking heads here. You probably can’t make a credible doc about Frank without his brother’s commentary. And here’s where I’ll note that Frank is 14th-billed on the IMDb page FOR HIS OWN BIODOC, behind Burt Young and Richie Sambora. Guess who’s no. 1? Right. Of course.

Memorable Dialogue: “You have to have thick skin, be bulletproof, to live in the body of Frank Stallone. Trust me.” — Frank Stallone gets all third-person up in there

“I was being hired because they couldn’t afford my brother.” — Frank reflects on the string of Z-grade action movies he starred in during the ’80s

“We should be making lunch meat somewhere.” — Frank’s brother iterates how lucky they are to have showbiz careers considering their rocky (small-r) background

Sex and Skin: Just an old snapshot of adult Frank wearing nothing but a shower cap and apparently taking a bath with a dog. We don’t see anything. Thankfully, because it’s weird enough as is.

Our Take: Stallone: Frank, That Is dedicates roughly 106 seconds to Barfly, which strikes me as criminal — the film doesn’t even feature commentary by director Barbet Schroeder or star Mickey Rourke. They would’ve fit in nicely with the wild rogue’s gallery of talking heads here, rounded out by Frankie Sullivan of Survivor, Danny Aiello, Oates (but not Hall) and Frank’s mother, Jackie Stallone. Director Derek Wayne Johnson pieces together a vague portrait of a saddish-sack guy who got about 1.667 breaks in the business but had some bad luck and bad management, maybe lacked some focus musically and struggled to shake the familial baggage that others repeatedly placed upon him.

The doc has the potential to tell a good story that wrestles with the definitions of success and failure, but never really digs deep enough to be truly fascinating. Frank is a credited producer, and Johnson is likely a cohort (he made docs about Rocky and its director, John G. Avildsen), so anyone looking for anything too candid isn’t going to find it here. The biographical content skirts the troubles of the Stallone boys’ upbringing; Frank mentions how their mother just up and “disappeared” for a while and never goes into detail, maybe because she’s actually in the film (she passed away in 2020, aged 99). He shares an anecdote about how he was accidentally shot in the fingers by a gun salesman, devastating for a guitarist, but we get nothing on its physical or psychological effects, or his recovery. You get the sense that he’s guarded and doesn’t want to reveal too much, and errs on the side of caution.

So the film flirts with being about nepotism — real or perceived — and existing on the periphery of Hollywood, but instead is a sugar-free weak-tea biography full of people saying mostly nice things about him. It’s not entirely uninteresting: A voice or two notes how he was “too diverse” in his musical interests for him to crack the pop charts; we get a few funny clips from his long-forgotten bottom-feeder action movies (Terror in Beverly Hills!); hilariously, Schwarzenegger is identified in a subtitle as “Former Mr. Olympia/Former California Governor”; and the juxtaposition of a for-your-consideration ad touting his role in Barfly is amusingly contrasted with a bit about his role in megabomb Hudson Hawk. But otherwise it’s lukewarm, wrapping with a testimonial dump of friendlies fawning about his guitar skills and how you should go see one of his live concerts because he’s a heck of an entertainer. Only during the credits do we see Frank and his brother interacting in the same room, goofing a bit, being off the cuff — fodder that should’ve been used upfront and with greater frequency. The movie is ultimately too much PR reel and not enough journalism to be truly fascinating.

Our Call: SKIP IT. Don’t you dare think Frank Stallone is a palooka or a punchline — or, in this case at least, a particularly interesting documentary subject. Maybe it could’ve been better had the director been more… sly?

John Serba is a freelance writer and film critic based in Grand Rapids, Michigan. Read more of his work at johnserbaatlarge.com or follow him on Twitter: @johnserba.

Where to stream Stallone: Frank, That Is