King Kong (2005)

Coincidentally, though maybe not so much as I presume, TMC showed the original King Kong the night before my usual Tuesday trek to nearby Glen Cove Cinema (LI, NY). On second hunch, I assume that TMC and any other channel with authority to do so are running the original version of this movie as often as possible to garner elevated ratings. Their hopes being that in expectation of viewing Peter Jackson's King Kong that movie-goers, like myself, might want a refresher course on the original. The review was enjoyable, and informative, not just for supplying grounds by which to assess the latest version, but by reminding me that a bulk purchase of anti-Alzhiemer's medication may well be the way to go for me in the near future.

I kid you not--like a dog with waning object permanence, my recollection of most of King Kong proved to begin and end with the vague recollection that its principles were a big ape and blonde dame. Aside from that, well, much to my dismay and, ironically, my enjoyment, what I failed to remember I enjoyed immensely during my recent second viewing.

Relative to my first viewing of this new King Kong I positioned myself in my tenth row seat (in a packed house, by the way) with my home-made, smuggled-in, special-blend popcorn, expecting intermittent homage, lavish production and some degree of over-kill from the producers of the film.

The screenplay for King Kong was written by Jackson, Fran Walsh and Phillipa Boyens and it fulfilled my intermittent homage expectations judiciously.

For instance, in one of the early scenes in which "never-say-never" director Denham (played by Jack Black stuck in second gear, able only to emote either stern intolerance or pop-eyed, omigosh wonderment) scurries into Depression-era New York City in search of a replacement actress for the starlet who dropped out of his present movie venture, he asks his associate, Preston (Colin Hanks), if Fay Wray is available. Preston's answer, "No. She's doing a movie for RKO." Ms. Wray, in case you haven't seen the original King Kong (or, in my case, saw but forgot it due to poor memory), was the "blonde dame," aka Ann Darrow, in the original. RKO was the production company.

Such homage occurs at various times throughout King Kong, and in most instances the deployment is deft, sometimes comical.

Plotwise, the three screenwriter's take guidance from the original screenwriters by keeping things moving swiftly along. For instance, after Kong is subdued at Skull Island, Denham declares that he will display the big ape on the Great White Way as "The Eighth Wonder of The World." Then--presto!--just as in the original, the action picks up on Broadway under the bright lights of Gotham.

Where King Kong runs into trouble stems from Jackson's indiscriminate use of editing. Lest you be unaware, this film runs 187 minutes (the original clocked in at 100 minutes). While the production values keep one visually entertained, such values as budget, special effects and aforementioned overkill tend to overwhelm the story at times, relegating it to the background for the sheer purpose of showing us what 45-50 million dollars can do in terms of "kinema" (the Greek word for "action.")

An example of this is the extended focus on Skull Island. I found the crew's adventures on the island to languish in the realm of "never-ending." That's not to say their activities lacked, well, action. Heck, by the end of a major chase scene that included a dinosaur stampede, a WWF-drop-the-cage worthy battle featuring Kong vs. a T-Rex trio, and a slippery slide into the Valley of All Things Insecty and Slimier Still--I was winded!! And, all I had done was switch hands on my popcorn bag a few times!! But, it is to say the producers devoted too much time to this spectacle, seemingly, in my viewpoint, for the sole purpose of trotting and wearing out their special effects department to achieve maximum, gratuitous overkill. By the end of the aforementioned sequences one's interest in this new story suffers from a lack of progression, not to mention a copious amount of disbelief.

In another sequence, that being the "Kong goes apey in New York City" sequence, Kong is shown pursuing Ms. Darrow's other paramour, playwright Jack Driscoll (played by Adrien Brody), chasing him at breakneck speed through Manhattan amidst throngs of traffic. Simultaneously, Mr. Darrow bolts from a theater, in high heels, seemingly with the intent of finding the source of the commotion. Kong then corners Driscoll's taxi in some far off sidestreet in Manhattan. He is about to tenderize him when, via Jackson's employment of an embarassing mise-en-scene reminiscent of every brightly backlit guardian angel sequence you have ever seen, Ms. Darrow arrives to save the night, strutting up the road like one of Charlie's Angels. As trivial as the end of that sequence is one welcomes it for the sole reason that it sets the story back into forward motion. During the latter part of the aforementioned action Kong was reduced to an ancilliary player, taking back-stage to a swarm of slugs the size of passing freight trains.

The bottom line here: any editing would have been judicous during this extended sequence.

However, by that time you have pretty much abandoned the concept of "suspension of belief" due to the fact that your bridge was imploded during the Skull Island visit. As such, that Ms. Darrow seemingly out-ran both fleet-footed Kong and Driscoll's speeding taxi-- well, as they say in Crooklyn, fughedaboutit!

Regarding the actors: they should have known better than to compete with an animal for attention. Kong is perfectly imagined, featuring pensive hazel eyes, matted hair, a fighter's pug nose, and a mighty, well-buffed chest.

As for Naomi Watts, she read the screenplay and saw the rushes.  As such she should have begged Jackson to scrap the scene in which she attempts to gain Kong's favor by performing a series of embarrassingly executed vaudevillian dances (Good God, I was hoping Kong might snap and flick her off the cliff edge). Otherwise, Ms. Watts plays Darrow as a slightly sassy, eager-to-please, out-of-work actress always hoping to fulfill others' expectations. She, too, cannot be blamed for having to respond to Kong's nuanced looks of despair, longing and loss.

Mimicking the original screenplay, King Kong offers no good reason why Kong opts for Ms. Darrow over, say, another ape, or one of the thousands of scantily clad female natives inhabiting Skull Island. Like their predecessors, Jackson and company go with the age old myth: "Blondes have more fun," and leave it at that.

Another area in which Jackson revels in overkill is in the area of film score employment. James Newton Howard handled the compostion efforts but my gut tells me that Jackson was responsible for shoe-horning the score into as many scenes as possible to maximize the return on his expenditures. God knows the string section of Mr. Newton's orchestra worked their collective asses off, what with Jackson not content to let Mother Nature move us via her own devices.

The specific scene proving my point occurs when, at last, Kong gets Ms. Darrow up to his mountain-top lair. Kong's small, rooftop, one-bedroom digs overlook...the world!  Believe me, his vantage point of Skull Island and beyond is, need I say it--priceless! (No doubt, the big fella paid top dollar for that rental space.) In the scene Kong sits Buddha-like with Ann securely, and willingly so, at his side. The time is sunset and the vista is spectacular. Visually speaking, one couldn't ask for a more fulfilling picture lest they were ascending to heaven. Enter the ever-imposing ego of Mr. Jackson, dragging with him Newton's beleagured string section. Here, instead of toning things way down, perhaps employing a sole flautist or a quartet, Jackson demands that Newton sequester "all hands on deck" in order to pound out a sappy, intrusive, ever-crescendoing symphonic mess that adds nothing to the majesty already evinced by Mother Nature.

Unfortunately, Jackson makes this choice over and over and over again, especially when concocting derivative mise-en-scene sequences requiring no other production values to help us assess the meaning of the scenes. While his employment of special effects produced many mind-bogglingly great action sequences, his heavy-handed use of Mr. Newton's orchestra did little to enhance any scene.

Certainly, King Kong does not lack for action or adventure. F'crissakes, I'm in great shape, but after some of the action seqeunces I was in need of oxygen and water. No doubt, there are not many movies clocking in at just over three hours that offer as much in the way of pure entertainment value than this film. And, for the most part, Jackson and his crew kept the action going at a brisk pace, taking their plotting and story cues from the original. Via a deft manifestation of Kong, they had the perfect leading ape-man to carry their load. With his brooding eyes and subtle movements, the big guy is likeable if not, as in Ms. Darrow's case, loveable.

Final

Yet, with all that going for it King Kong suffers from Jackson's footprints all over the terrain. Like those of Kong's, his presence, via the never-ending chase sequences, egregious choice of film score implementation and heavy-handed employment of special effects was hard to overlook. He should have had more confidence in his leading ape-man carrying the show instead of vying for center stage.

I would rate this as a "drop-off-the-kids-with-enough-supplies-to-last-the-weekend" film. Fun for all ages, except if one of any of those ages is inclined to projectile vomiting at the sight of slugs the size of Thanksgiving Day floats. If that's the case, have them go for a popcorn run when the dinosaur stampede begins. They will know it's safe to return when their unwarned up-chuck prone brethren go racing passed them for the theater johns mumbling, "Slugs, bugs and insects, no more!"