SUMMER SNEAKS : Give This Guy $20 Million : And that’s what they did. After a seven-year slow period of tinkering with his action image, Sylvester Stallone has reconnected with his public. Next up: ‘Judge Dredd.’ Motion sustained.

SEATTLE —  Like Rocky, the archetypal underdog who propelled him to superstardom, Sylvester Stallone was down but not out. Efforts to break out of his muscleman image and into comedy in 1991 with “Oscar” and 1992 with “Stop! or My Mom Will Shoot” had been met with smirks and derision. In the ‘90s, the man who had turned Rambo, the Human Fighting Machine, into an international icon was denigrated as a relic of our jingoistic past.

“After each of my movies was released, I’d read my obituary in the Los Angeles Times,” Stallone recalls, referring not only to his ill-fated comic outings but to lackluster offerings such as “Lock Up,” “Over the Top” and “Tango & Cash.” “They’d say my audience had abandoned me, that my time had come and gone. My image and Rambo’s were fused. For seven years, beginning in 1985, I was dragging an anchor, driving with the brakes on.”

Not anymore. “Cliffhanger,” a return to Stallone’s action-adventure roots, took in more than a quarter of a billion dollars worldwide in 1993, followed by “Demolition Man” and “The Specialist” which grossed $160 million and $170 million, respectively.

Last December, Savoy Pictures Entertainment made the actor an unprecedented offer: $20 million as an advance against 20% of the gross for a yet-to-be-named action-adventure movie in 1996. Nearly two decades after “Rocky,” the 48-year-old Italian Stallion is not only standing but is the highest-paid performer in Hollywood.

“It’s the safest deal I’ve made,” maintains Savoy Chairman Victor Kaufman. “Stallone is one of the two or three biggest superstars in the rapidly growing international marketplace where action-adventure sells. The price we’re paying him is relatively cheap compared to others with less box-office draw.”

Joel Silver, producer of “Demolition Man” and Stallone’s current project, “Assassins,” says that the actor has nearly $70 million in movie commitments over the next two years--a sum that will be paid to him whether the films are made or not.

“As long as Stallone gives the public what it wants, he’s the closest thing in this business to a ‘guarantee,’ ” Silver says. “He can’t go off and do the story of Louis Pasteur. But if there’s a gun in his hand and someone is chasing him, he’ll return $100 million to the studio.”

That’s what Cinergi Pictures Entertainment and Walt Disney Studios are banking on. On June 30, Stallone will surface as the title character in their $70-million “Judge Dredd,” a futuristic tale based on the British comic book character--the personification of justice in a corrupt, chaotic civilization set in 2139. One of the special effects scenes in the film, which co-stars Armand Assante, cost seven times the $900,000 budget of “Rocky,” the actor points out as a measure of the distance he--and Hollywood--have come.

Now that the political climate has changed, Stallone says, the time may be ripe for Rambo to return--on pay-per-view domestically to reach its core audience before a theatrical release abroad. And taking a cue from “Beauty and the Beast,” he’s asked lyricist Alan Menken and pal Elton John to adapt “Rocky” for the musical stage. (In case you were wondering, he doesn’t plan to star.)

There’s breaking news on the personal front, as well. According to an engagement announcement released last month, Stallone intends to marry 25-year-old Angie Everhart, a Sports Illustrated bathing suit model and fledgling actress (“Jade”) whom he started dating in March.

“Change only comes by doing things you’re afraid of,” says the twice-married Stallone, a man who overcame a deep-seated fear of heights to dangle 13,000 feet up in the Dolomites during the “Cliffhanger” shoot and braved a 20-below windchill factor in a tank top for “Rambo.” “There’s been a perennial vacancy in my personal life. I never felt fulfilled. On the surface, I seemed to be leading a festive existence, but I wasn’t enjoying the movies I made or the life I led. Success wasn’t all it was cracked up to be.”

The actor is on the Seattle set of “Assassins,” a Warner Bros. thriller about two hit men and a surveillance expert in which he stars with Antonio Banderas (“Mambo Kings”) and Julianne Moore (“Short Cuts”). His feline gait is slow and assured. The earth-tone designer clothes sported by his character drape gracefully on his surprisingly compact 5-foot-10, 175-pound frame.

“Sly’s presence is so overpowering,” says “Assassins” director Richard Donner. “If I could bottle it, I’d be rich. ‘Rub on a little Stallone.’ It’s a fragrance every slightly insecure man would want.”

Focus is Stallone’s mantra, colleagues say. Presentation, he realizes, counts.

“Sly knows how the light works on his face and how he looks best running,” observes unit photographer Andy Cooper. “There are no accidents. Nothing is left to chance.”

Take golf, a sport he took up during “Cliffhanger.” The actor hits hundreds of balls a day into the portable net outside his trailer. There’s a golf pro with him on the Seattle set.

As cast and crew down paella or pork chops from the catering truck, Stallone contents himself with unseasoned chicken breasts--the same meal each day. (“Salt leads to water retention, which the camera might pick up,” he explained to the chef.) He does indulge in some freshly baked oatmeal cookies before lunch or an occasional glass of wine. But the same bottle of vodka has been in his refrigerator for more than three years, he says, and a stop at the gym is an integral part of his 12- to 15-hour workday.

“Workouts are merely the tail wagging the dog--an extension of the single-mindedness that permeates my life,” Stallone says, sitting in his Teton Home trailer, puffing on a Cuban cigar. “I have to be very disciplined to keep things from spiraling out of control.

“Would I like to go on a gluttonous binge or wallow in a bacchanalian feast?” asks the actor. “Of course. But Newton was right: For every action, there’s an equal and opposite reaction.”

Still, if reality is a tough taskmaster, he admits, acting is one way of avoiding it.

“We act because we’re not happy being who we are,” Stallone says. “And, unless we fall out of love with the character halfway through, we crash when a movie wraps. Offer an actor $50 million to give up acting and most would refuse. Every day would be torture, biding time until we die.”

Movies, it seems, were always his escape.

Watching Steve Reeves in “Hercules,” the slightly built 13-year-old resolved to use physical prowess as his path to self-esteem. Soon after, he became a high school football star. As a drama major at the University of Miami, he churned out screenplays until his big break.

The rest is history--a well-known chapter in the Hollywood text. The money from a lead role in “The Lords of Flatbush” in 1974 took Stallone and his first wife, Sasha, to Hollywood, where the actor peddled his “Rocky” script. Though producers insisted on a star in the title role, Stallone--with less than $100 in the bank--held out. He was rewarded with Academy Award nominations for best actor and best screenplay. “Rocky” won the Oscar for best picture.

“Rocky,” the actor says, is a simplification of his personal code--one from which he deviates “with disastrous results.” Though not all of them worked commercially, “Paradise Alley” (1978), “F.I.S.T.” (1978), “Nighthawks” (1981), “First Blood” (1982) and “Cliffhanger” continued the theme of redemption that lies at the heart of his films. The 1986 “Cobra” marked the beginning of a downhill trend.

“Rather than representing the walking wounded, damaged goods, I became Teflon--subjected to so many trials and tribulations in each film that it became ‘American Gladiators,’ Ulysses on celluloid,” the actor recalls. “My movies (in the late 1980s) were about larger, higher, louder--the motivation for it be damned.”

The “militaristic, fascist message” of “Cobra,” as Stallone describes it, stuck to him like glue. In actuality, says the actor, he’s a “populist,” a proponent of “plebiscites” on issues such as the death penalty and gun control.

Personally, too, things were falling apart, as his 18-month 1985 marriage to model-actress Brigitte Nielsen hit a wall. Professionally pigeonholed, personally cuckolded, the actor became depressed and preoccupied.

Eager to chart a new course, Stallone took a stab at comedy. Advisers warned of the risk, he says, but unlike the studio that prohibited “tough guy” Bogart from taking a comedic leap, no one saved him from himself.

“The public wants you the way they found you,” the actor says with the benefit of hindsight. “If they married a brunette, they don’t want to come home to a blonde or a redhead. Comedy, I learned, must be designed for you personally. Because ‘Oscar’ was a tried-and-true French farce, there was no way to showcase what I had.”

Tony Munafo, a close buddy of Stallone’s who has served as his right arm and “protector” for the past 17 years, puts a philosophical spin on the interlude.

“Seven years of experimenting isn’t a ‘down,’ ” he insists. “It’s really more of a ‘process.’ ”

Maybe so, says the actor. But when the critics attacked, it hurt like hell. Acting is a “flesh business” with fragile personalities, he points out. If it’s you you’re selling rather than furniture or a book, rejection cuts closer to the bone.

Ron Meyer, president of Creative Artists Agency and Stallone’s agent for the past 14 years, concurs. “Sly can have a smash hit on his hands, all the money and adoration in the world. But if there’s one obscure reviewer who doesn’t like him or his film, that’s all he can remember.”

The actor admits to a restless temperament--one with biological as well as psychological roots. Attention deficit disorder, he says, condemns him to being in “100 places at any given time and nowhere specific.” An insatiable thirst for challenge is a healthier urge, his creative spark plug.

For a while, he says, he listened to “too many chefs,” which resulted in meals that were “tasteless and overblown.” The enormity of his responsibility hit home in New York a few weeks ago when a homeless person looked up and wished him good luck.

“Good luck to me ?” the actor says in amazement. “The guy didn’t have a roof over his head. But, then, people have always identified with me. I’m part of their history, one of their own. If I play a character with overbearing imperiousness, patronage will be sparse.”

Stallone’s awareness of his strengths is accompanied by a reluctant acceptance of limitations. Part of him still longs to be a character actor, to make his mark in substantive, more esoteric fare. But discipline and drive can take a person only so far.

“Some performers can communicate their neuroses, their joys, their sorrows--it’s all at their fingertips,” he says. “Others of us remain in an unfathomable, amorphous state--undefined inside. After 20 years in this business, I’m no further along in terms of knowing who I am.”

To remedy the situation, the actor is re-examining his life. He says there’s nothing more pathetic than realizing that you’ve “passed a crossroads with your eyes closed.” He regrets not having “tinkered more with the mechanism, doing something fresh and innovative” in years past.

If action-adventure is to be his meal ticket, explosions and car chases will no longer suffice. Beyond the special effects of “Dredd,” he notes, there’s a poignant story of a man confronting a moral crisis that calls his entire belief system into question.

“It’s a fine line, fleshing out a cartoon character into 3-D,” Stallone says. “Still, it’s a different kind of movie-making today. Whereas Rocky relied on the written word and his fists, ‘Dredd’ was very technical. I worked with a blue screen instead of an ensemble. What’s lost is purity of performance.”

There is less danger of that in “Assassins,” the filmmakers say. Working against his macho persona, the actor portrays an over-the-hill, lonely, introverted hit man--a role he calls “existentialist.” One that requires him to “act.”

“If we succeed, the public will see a different Sylvester,” says Donner. “A gentler soul.”

That Donner is working with Stallone at all is something of a breakthrough: the first time in a long while that a world-class director has stepped up to the plate. While the actor worked twice with John Avildsen and with Norman Jewison on “F.I.S.T.” in 1978, he has consistently been paired with lesser-known directors, such as Danny Cannon on “Dredd,” Luis Llosa on “The Specialist” and Marco Brambilla on “Demolition Man.”

“Some directors can’t deal with the fact that Sly is larger-than-life and a much better actor and director than people give him credit for,” says Cinergi Chairman Andy Vajna, an executive producer of “Dredd.” “The challenge is to harness Sly’s energies in a positive fashion--not to hide the ball but deal openly with him.”

Stallone insists the problem is one of perception rather than reality. “Despite the fact that there have been no walk-offs or sit-down strikes and only a minor incident on ‘First Blood,’ I have an assertive reputation,” he complains. “I know too much about the process of filmmaking for some and no one wants the headaches. Italy is a nation of generals with no privates--and nothing gets done. But working with neophytes hurts the movies and it hurts me.”

If critics agree that Stallone is in need of a strong director, Donner gives him the benefit of the doubt.

“Sylvester just needs someone he respects,” he says. “Someone with a point of view he buys into and to whom he can delegate the responsibility of ensuring that he stays in it. In the past, he probably had to protect himself. Now, he’s leaving that protection in my hands.”

Stallone admits to being hands-on in the marketing end--a trait that producers and the studios embrace. When it comes to business, however, that’s his agent’s domain. “The Savoy deal was all Ronnie,” he says, referring to Meyer. “That was his ‘E.T.’ . . . his ‘Jurassic Park.’ ”

Skeptics contend that the 3-year-old Savoy Pictures, struggling out of the starting gate, was merely aiming to create a buzz. Not until an action-adventure film is mutually agreed upon and the money is in the bank, they claim, does the deal carry any weight.

“I’d be amazed if it happens,” says Avildsen, director of “Rocky” and “Rocky V.” “Who knows if Savoy will be in business then, if they’ll have $20 million sitting around, if they’ll find a script Sylvester wants to do? The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

Not to worry, says Savoy Chairman Victor Kaufman. “We started with $100 million in capital and now have $750 million invested so we’re here for the long haul,” he says. “And the more expensive movies are the least risky because you can buy downside protection through the star.”

Before his Savoy “slot” in 1996, the actor may plunge into Universal’s “Daylight”--the tale of a medical emergency worker evacuating people after a cave-in in New York’s Holland Tunnel. If the project takes off, Stallone will get a reported $17.5 million for his pains.

The saying goes that there are three acts in a star’s life: “yes, sir,” “(expletive) you” and “I just want to do good work and live a good life.” Though Stallone, approaching 50, has many good years ahead of him, his eye is certainly on the curtain call.

During “The Specialist” shoot, he moved from Hollywood to Coconut Grove, Fla., where he bought an $8-million, 28,000-square-foot waterfront home. He talks of the need for “inner vacations” to escape the Sturm und Drang. He says he’s “exuberant” about the state of his personal life.

“Sly’s a warm guy who wants love in his life,” says Munafo. “Someone in his position doesn’t have to be ‘lonely,’ but he wants a woman to come home to.

“I begged him in the back of the limo on the way to the wedding not to marry Brigitte. Some of the girls he’s gone out with I’ve despised. But Angie seems to be real down-to-earth--already established as a model and not the kind that’s looking to move off him. I’m betting they start a family.”

Fame, Stallone has discovered, is always a double-edged sword.

“With success, you belong to the public,” he says. “You’re treated like walking embodiments of people’s childhood fantasies, not permitted--like the rest of them--to have feet of clay. You have two choices: To retreat and become a human crustacean or to over-capitulate, becoming one big nerve ending, accessible to everyone. I’m still working out the balance.”

The dilemma of stardom, the actor concludes, was best summed up by a letter written by the great Edward G. Robinson. The actor complained of being constantly badgered, unable to retain even a modicum of privacy. Then he closed by admitting his fear of walking across the hotel lobby without anyone asking for an autograph.

“That’s the truth,” Stallone says, picking up a golf club in his rugged working-man’s hands. “Adulation is like heroin--a really terrible drug.”