“Forget Rambo — Stallone’s a Boss” 😳 Michael Franzese Reveals the Shocking Truth About Stallone’s Mafia Skills in Tulsa King

 

“Let me tell you something,” Michael Franzese says, leaning forward with that measured calm that only men who’ve lived in shadows can manage.

“Stallone? He’s good.Real good.

But being a mob boss isn’t about muscles or gunfire — it’s about presence.

It’s about control.

And that’s where he nails it.

For Franzese — who was officially inducted into the Colombo crime family in 1975 and went on to become one of the richest earners in mafia history — mob life was built on subtlety, not cinematic explosions.

When he watched Tulsa King, he wasn’t looking at Stallone’s punches.

He was studying his eyes, his tone, his authority.

“You can tell when someone understands power,” Franzese says.

“Stallone carries himself like a guy who’s been in charge his whole life.

He doesn’t need to scream.

He walks into a room and it gets quiet — that’s real.

Still, the ex-mobster doesn’t hand out compliments easily.

“Hollywood gets a lot wrong,” he says, shaking his head.

“They think being a mob boss means yelling, shooting, breaking heads.

In the real life, that’s how you lose respect.

The real bosses didn’t need to raise their voice.

You felt them.You knew who they were.

Franzese, who’s now a motivational speaker and author, admits that Stallone surprised him.

“I thought he’d overdo it, you know? Stallone’s always been the tough guy — Rambo, Rocky — but this was different.

In Tulsa King, he’s controlled.Smart.

He’s the kind of boss who’ll smile at you and still own your soul.

That’s the kind of leadership that gets men killed and followed at the same time.

He pauses, then laughs softly.

“Look, I’ve known real bosses — real ones.

Guys who didn’t need cameras or scripts.

And I’m telling you: Stallone captures the essence.

The walk, the silence, the way he uses his hands when he talks.

That’s old-school New York all the way.

Still, Franzese can’t resist critiquing the details.

“Some of the dialogue? Too flashy.

No one in our world says half the things they write in these shows.

It’s always about control, never about performance.

A real boss would rather whisper than talk loud.

When you’ve got real power, you don’t have to prove it.

But where Tulsa King hits the mark, he says, is in its psychology — that mix of loyalty, isolation, and paranoia.

“That’s what the life does to you,” Franzese says, his voice dropping low.

“You might have ten guys around you, but you sleep alone.

You trust nobody.

You smile at people you might have to bury next week.

And Stallone shows that without overacting.

You can see the weight in his face.

You can see that he’s tired of it, but he can’t stop.

When asked if Stallone could’ve survived in the real mob, Franzese chuckles.

“He’d do fine — if he had a good crew behind him,” he says.

“But the real life ain’t Hollywood.

You can’t yell ‘cut’ when the bullets start flying.

Still, he’s got the look — that quiet confidence.

That’s half the battle right there.

Then Franzese gets serious, almost reflective.

“You know what separates the good mob movies from the bad ones?” he asks.

“It’s not the violence.It’s the moral decay.

The good ones show you the cost — what it takes to survive in that world.

Stallone’s character gets that.

He’s not glorifying it.He’s haunted by it.That’s real.

He leans back, eyes narrowing.

“When you’ve lived that life, you can spot a fake in ten seconds.

Stallone? He’s no fake.

Still, Franzese doesn’t want anyone confusing fiction for truth.

“People love the mob life — the suits, the cigars, the money.

But they don’t see what happens after.

Every guy I knew from those days is either dead or doing life.

That’s the real ending — not a freeze-frame or a sequel.

Just silence.

When asked what he’d say to Stallone if they met, Franzese smiles.

“I’d say, ‘Sly, you did good.

You captured the soul of it.

Just don’t ever forget — the real thing? It’s not glamorous.

It’s tragic.He pauses again, letting the silence hang.

It’s the kind of pause only a man who’s lived with ghosts can command.

Then, with the faintest grin, he adds: “But if he ever needs a consultant for Tulsa King 2, I’ll take the call.

”

Because for all his warnings, there’s something magnetic about watching Hollywood try to recreate the life he escaped.

It’s nostalgia mixed with nightmare.

“Every time I see a mob boss on screen,” he admits, “I see pieces of the men I knew — and the man I was.

And maybe that’s why Franzese’s verdict on Stallone hits so hard.

“He’s not perfect,” he says, “but he gets it.

The loneliness, the pride, the guilt — that’s what makes a mob boss real.

That’s what made me real once.

And if a movie can make people feel that for a second — then maybe, just maybe, they’ll understand why I walked away.