Rocky’s: Familiarity, Nostalgia, and Friendships That Remain Timeless
by Varsha Murali Kaushik
Rocky’s (2025), co-directed and co-written by Ben Cohen and Max Strand, is an ode to friendship, deli culture, community, and the people, rather than the place, who signify home. Set in and around the eponymous deli, its parking lot, and a baseball field on a hill near it, the film follows Charlie’s (Jasai Chase-Owen) return to his hometown in the wake of a tragedy: the death of his ex-girlfriend and old friend Alana (Victoria Andrunik). As Charlie drives into the parking lot of Rocky’s, the delicatessen (deli) where he spent his childhood years growing up, he runs into his friends—figures from the past who create tension and conflict at first. Through difficult conversations, long-due confrontations, and a good amount of snacking on sandwiches and treats from the deli, we watch the estranged group transition back into a crew, a group of friends who are there for each other through thick and thin.
There is a metaphorical bubble that the entire film is precariously encased in. By limiting the physical spatiality of the film’s world to the areas in and around the deli, the characters are given the opportunity to grow, reflect, and reconnect within a safe space that is still very much detached from the reality of the outer world. Even when there are confrontations, or direct and intense addressal of adult-centric themes like addiction, death, infidelity, and violence, the film explores them with an almost child-like sense of humour. Moments of simmering tension are always interspersed with jokes, pranks, and dialogues that not only diffuse the situation effectively without taking away from its narrative purpose but also continue to keep the characters in that safe bubble.
As viewers, we are aware of the fact that there might be severe consequences awaiting the characters outside of this bubble, such as with Charlie, who has to go back to his girlfriend at university and address the fact that he cheated on her. And for Socks (Steven Maier) who has to deal with the aftermath of stealing a gun from the yard of his old house, or Danny (Gil Perez-Abraham) whose future as an athlete hangs on the weak possibility of his ability to make it past his addiction and test sober. These are all stressful consequences for the characters, but in the safe bubble of Rocky’s (both the deli and the film itself), nothing really matters more than the fact that they are all reunited, that they have each others’ backs again. This makes the limited spatiality of the film one of my favourite things about it.
Nostalgia is a primary theme explored throughout the film, both narratively as well as in form. It is the base and the safe space in which the friends re-establish their connections with each other, reminiscing on their pasts while acknowledging their lives’ reality in the present. The vibrancy of the film, with its use of the gauzy, almost-dewy filter on the visuals, captures the occurrences of the plot through the course of one day—from morning until sunset—in a manner that is reminiscent of films from the early 2000s. The soundtrack, which is used both in a diegetic and non-diegetic manner, complements the film memorably, particularly in the montage sequences of the preparation of a sandwich in the deli, a hilarious pseudo-rivalrous confrontation between the friends and another group of characters, as well as a wistful baseball scene where the characters play pretend baseball in a parallel likeness to their younger selves.
With incredible performances by a very talented cast, optimally paced narrative structure, and a very satisfying full-circle moment with regard to conflict resolutions, Rocky’s charm lies in its simplicity—it is a film about best friends, written by best friends, and brought to life by a cast whose dynamics and chemistry as the friend group are wholesome and natural. There is a universality in its depiction of the feelings of community and connection that are associated with places like a deli, where people meet, gather, and spend time together; essentially, the film is a fond nod to the process that today’s social-media-driven world would eagerly engage with and term “making core memories” in an attempt to go back to simpler times and slower lives, where friendships began in parking lots and the aisles of the local delis, grew over the layers of mustard and ketchup squeezed out over sandwiches, and bloomed into strong foundations with which life could be tackled.