King Kong, m'dawg!

After the Lord of the Rings series, everyone knew director Peter Jackson was going places. He announced he'd be directing a remake on King Kong, and suddenly everyone's like, "Yo dawg, dat LOTR director, he's gonna do this King Kong movie, and iss gonna be tight, yo!"

Ah, words of wisdom. "King Kong" has all the right things in all the right places. What's most prominent is its direction: the "bug scene," where a squadron of filmmakers fend off various giant insects and arachnids, is the finest cinematic sequence I've ever witnessed. There's no cheesy dialogue, no awkward angles, and the soundtrack, instead of playing intense, precipitous James-Bond-shit, provides us with gloomy, enigmatic, subaqueous strings which hypnotize and confound like nothing in film history (as far as I'm concerned). I was pervaded with horror, imagining myself surrounded by various Goliath-sized wasps and caterpillars...I'm getting consternated now, just thinking...I'll go die now...

^You see that paragraph? That's the effect Jackson's direction has. I have to battle not to shrivel like a girl, recalling that scene. Finishing this review will be difficult, recalling that scene. Right now I want to go to bed. And cry. When a film does that to a viewer, you know it's good.

"King Kong" begins following producer-director Carl Denham (Jack Black) looking for a lead actress for his new film. He spots vaudevillian Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) and coerces her and famed writer Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody) to tag along. They're heading toward *the mysterious Skull Island* (cue either appropriate vaudeville music or stereotypical portentous music). There's quandaries, and the crew starts hatin', but eventually they reach the island. And then the shite hits the fan.

Honestly, what do you expect from a mysterious place called Skull Island? There's sententious natives, dinosaurs, gigantic bats, the aforementioned bugs...oh yeeeeeeah, that Kong fellow.

King Kong, the gargantuan hegemonic ape of Skull Island, is often acclaimed as a technological achievement, and this acclaim shows. I see Kong and I think, "Seriously dawgs, I mean seriously yo, how is this thing NOT real?" Some of the humans look less authentic than this monster. And he's terrifying. We fear him. We fear his reign. We wish Denham wasn't such a capitalist so that the lives of many men could be saved. But alas, men are often more monstrous than the monsters themselves, and Denham's greed, his savvy for capturing the beast results in much blood and gore.

There's so many scenes I could accentuate. Jackson's direction is sporadically thrilling and hypnotic. Our interest perks meeting the natives; the one sallow, hideous woman repeating, "Tore Kong, Tore Kong;" the shipmates fighting for their lives... Kong's inevitable rambunctious scene in NY is equally captivating. I could go on and on, but you get the point----------Jackson is a genius.

I dunno if I'm qualified to grade the acting; I spent most of my time awed by Jackson's majestic direction. I don't understand the critical underground's lacerating Jack Black's performance as Denham. He's Jack Black. He lives up to the Jack Black persona. He's a snide, conniving motherfucker who we want to like but can't. That's perfect. And that Watts devotchka? I've spoken numerously of the perplexity she casts. I can't seem to reach her core------what the hell is going on in this woman's head? Surely the most *mysterious* actress around, Watts is (Yoda moment).

I suppose this review was a tad freewheeling, but my intention was to catch the feel of the film-------there's a beautiful curveless curve to it all, three hours of goodness almost collapsing under its own weight.

Rating: A-