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Soul Meets Body: Peter Jackson’s King Kong is a chest-thumping, tear-jerking experience.
2005-12-21 17:24
by Ryan Wilkins

"'Twas beauty killed the beast."

These are the final words of Merian C. Cooper's 1933 version of King Kong, and Peter Jackson uses them to close his long-awaited remake, which was released nationwide last Wednesday. The sentence is uttered by the duplicitous movie producer Carl Denham, overlooking the hulking corpse of Kong, his "eighth wonder of the world," lying dead in the street. The irony is, though the line originates from Cooper's screenplay, Denham's glib observation doesn't hold resonance until Jackson uses it. It took an imitator to find the emotional authenticity in the scene.

Which is not to call Peter Jackson an imitator, or imply his film is a hollow reproduction of the 1933 classic. Quite the contrary, in fact: by bringing Kong to life in 2005, Jackson has accomplished what few filmmakers have dared to attempt—he's eclipsed the original vision so greatly that he's redefined the story itself. Jackson's King Kong is a modern epic of such grandiose proportions that it seems unfair to compare it to the work from which it was inspired. Like a 50-ft. gorilla, it dwarfs everything in its path.

As it has been well publicized by the media, Jackson holds closely to the original storyline, beginning in Depression-era Manhattan. There we meet failed movie producer Carl Denham (Jack Black), his staff (Colin Hanks, et al.), neglected writer Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody), and a down-on-her-luck vaudeville performer (Naomi Watts). All of them are struggling to stay afloat—and Jackson reminds us that they're not alone. The film opens with a montage of familiar images from 1930s New York: bread lines, street performers, and rising skyscrapers that tower over the city. Playing the sequence over in my head, it's accompanied by Gershwin's "Rhapsody in Blue," like out of a Fidelity™ commercial. It's a loving portrayal of the city; so much goes on in each frame that I almost wanted to stop the projector so I could soak in all the detail of Jackson's visuals, which extend to the far corners of the screen. They simply brim with life.

Film critic Pauline Kael often advised writers to simply make their characters smarter. Whether Jackson, Filippa Boyens, or Fran Walsh are aware of that or not, they seem to have heeded her advice—these are thoughtful, intelligent characters on screen, written from the inside out. This is most evident in Naomi Watts' Ann Darrow, who in previous iterations of the story has leaned far to the right on the bimbo spectrum. Here, she's a talented vaudevillian who can sing and dance, but aspires to work with a social dramatist (ostensibly Adrien Brody's Jack Driscoll). She's also principled: When times get tough and it looks like a role in a burlesque show might be her only way to earn a living, she clenches her fist and refuses to give in. There's a brain under that beautiful mop of blond hair, and Watts lets it show.

It's true that Jackson's film is a bit overlong, at 188 minutes. The only place you can really feel it, however, is during the first hour—on the boat ride from New York to Skull Island, where Denham and his rag-tag band of filmmakers are required to talk and reveal so we can track their character arcs on a piece of graph paper. More than a few members of the ship's crew, and more than few subplots, prove so annoying during this sequence that I wanted to thump my chest in frustration. Of course, it's understandable why Jackson decided to pad this section with such heavy-handed characterization: 1) It ups the anticipation for finally seeing Kong, and 2) It takes advantage of your attention. Because once that overgrown silver back makes an appearance, all subtlety is left at the door.

And what an appearance he makes. Shrouded in darkness for the first few minutes, Kong finally steps into the light on a cliff with his blond love-interest in hand—and it's a sight to behold. As David Edelstein notes in his review, one of the first things you notice when watching Kong is how greatly he differs from his celluloid ancestors. This isn't the lumbering biped with scarlet pupils and curved vampire teeth of '33 and '76. This is truly a gorilla. He communicates with vague yet careful body language. He gallops on all fours. His forearms are muscular and long. His fine motor skills are precise enough to nab a falling blond, but he bumps elbows against the uneven terrain. It's a testament to Andy Serkis (best known as The Guy in the Foam Ball Leotard Who Played Gollum) and the whole visual effects staff that Kong models a real simian so well. The days of third-rate stunt men in bulky gorilla costumes are over.

While it's been well publicized that Kong is a visual triumph, what hasn't been discussed is how the film is an achievement in sound design. Every movement that Kong makes is punctuated by grunts and snarls and sounds of heavy breathing that accentuate his character. And while it might not seem like much, this cornucopia of noise is vital to elevating his character above monsters like Gojira and making Kong a person. With light in his eyes and detailed facial expressions that run the gamut of emotions, from pride to jealousy to sympathy, Serkis—along with everyone on Jackson's CGI team—creates the singular best acting performance in the film. It's just a shame that the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences is destined to ignore it, mainly because it's progressive and defies categorization. In my not-so-humble estimation, we're about 15 years away from the Academy (willfully or not) changing its guidelines to allow for performances such as this and LotR's Gollum. Actors have been getting Photoshopped for years, sometimes materially changing the audience's perception of the performance (e.g., Gary Sinise as Lt. Dan in Forrest Gump). It's only a matter of time until the plot of Andrew Niccol's S1m0ne becomes something we really have to deal with, and the line between CGI and the Stanislavsky Method becomes entirely blurred.

That said, Jackson's special effects aren't perfect—they oscillate between amazing and disappointing at different points throughout the film. The gorilla is best seen up-close, emoting. The director and his team have mastered the detail of Kong's face, with hair flowing in the breeze and reflections seen in his enormous doll-eyes. The effects fail when not enough contrast exists between object and backdrop; a number of the sequences featuring dinosaurs, for instance, look unfinished compared to scenes with Kong at the center. Luckily for audiences, this isn't the case when Jackson puts his horror background to good use, unleashing an endless stream of digital cockroaches and flesh-eating worms. Memories of these creatures will haunt your dreams in crystal-clear HD. They look amazing.

What makes King Kong great, though, is that the film is so much more than the sum of its special effects. Watts' performance is particularly affecting, making unrequited love between a buxom blond and a giant silver back seem not only believable, but ultimately heartbreaking. It might not be the best performance in the film, but it's strong, especially for a character that is best known for screaming her way through scenes. Jack Black is fine in the Denham role, mixing subtle humor with an escalating level of despicability that doesn't cease. And Adrien Brody is the perfect choice for the doomed Jack Driscoll: While likable, he lacks the swagger (and nose) of a traditional leading man, making it easier for audiences to understand why Watts would choose an ape over a lowly writer.

When considering Peter Jackson's achievement in bringing King Kong to the big screen, it's instructive to think of another computer-generated epic that was released in 2005: George Lucas' Star Wars – Episode III: Revenge of the Sith. While the latter film was seen, in some circles, as a fitting conclusion to the long-awaited set of Star Wars prequels, its alleged greatness is put to shame when compared to Kong—a film that is equally reliant upon big-budget effects and made for "mass consumption." While Lucas' defenders like to brush aside criticisms of poor writing and under-cooked characterization that have been a hallmark of the prequels, it seems that Jackson's film would be a harsh wake-up call. This is what good writing looks like. These are what strong characters look like. This is what an epic looks like. Take note.

Comments
2005-12-21 17:59:49
1.   Harley
Agree, agree, agree. Except for the very start of your post. The huge and sorry thud one hears at the end of the movie is Jack Black's valient attempt to give some kind of resonance to the awful 'Twas beauty killed the beast' line. He fails. But I'm not sure anyone would succeed. The thing about show bidness is -- show, don't tell -- and this line violates that cardinal rule in every possible way.

The better way? Black/Dehman walks up to the Remains of Kong and utters half the original line. "The planes didn't kill him."

And then, nothing. Except the director's willingness to let the audience add the second half of the line in their heads. Which, if he's done his job -- and godknows Jackson has -- should be no problem at all.

2005-12-21 18:58:31
2.   Suffering Bruin
These are the final words of Merian C. Cooper's 1933 version of King Kong, and Peter Jackson uses them to close his long-awaited remake...

Aw, man... how about a spoiler alert? :)

2005-12-22 00:16:47
3.   Ryan Wilkins
Taking these in reverse order:

Suffering Bruin: I thought about this, but I figured the story of King Kong is engrained in our culture to the point where "revealing" that the gorilla dies isn't really a spoiler at all. Sticking my nose up at people who aren't pop-culture literate has always been my specialty, even from an early age, when I was the only person making references to The Who in my fourth grade final presentation.

Harley: It's a bad line, yes, but it's meant to read that way. While I can't deny that your reimagining of the sequence would have its own power, I see Black's line as the rubber stamp: it adds over-the-top finality in a movie that's filled to the brim with over-the-top moments. While I've sung this film's praises, it's still not high art: its roots are in 1930s serials that were melodramatic and just generally silly. So I think the line works with that context in mind. But I see your point, and it's a good one.

2005-12-22 10:23:17
4.   tem213
I'm still in shock that anyone coudl praise this movie. It was excruciatingly awful. Boring, so so acting, combined with the we've seen this before only better in Jurassic Park element made this a film that stole 3 hours of my life
2005-12-22 22:12:07
5.   deadguy
I do look forward to seeing what Jackson can do in a film where the subject matter eliminates the "short people falling down is funny" trope that seemed to run through the LotR movies.
2005-12-23 18:47:42
6.   Suffering Bruin
Ryan, I appreciate the response and the review. Most of my friends who have seen the film agree with tem213 but you're review makes me want to give it a shot. My post was toungue-in-cheek all the way. I'm 42 and I'd be very interested if anybody my age doesn't know the story of King Kong. I think I'll take a poll...
2005-12-27 14:15:49
7.   SFOgiantz
I have qualms with two points theorized in the review. The first has to do with the pacing of the film. Yes, it is assuredly overlong at 188 minutes, but where I disagree is where you can feel the length. The character building done on the ship was formulaic, but for how many characters there were that were intended to be cared about, take note of "intended to be," I believe it was done in a temporally efficient manner. One thing we can all agree on though is that eliminating the Jimmy character would've had an all pro, no con effect on the film. With the time saved by that absence, the captain could've been recast as Marlee Matlin (just add a little makeup and she'd look like a hard black guy in no time!). Having a mute in that role would've cut the film's duration even more.

As for where the film did drag, at least for me, was when the story moved to New York. At that point, the audience had already been treated to the best action with Kong tearing apart the creatures in his natural habitat on Super Sadistic Lord Of The Flies Island. This is not to say the action sequence of the silverback breaking out of his circus show chains, traversing the city, climbing the Empire State building, and finally falling to his ultimate demise is excruciatingly boring, it's just predictable. We all know the basic story of the gigantic ape. Also, there was nothing left to be impressed with visually, except for Kong's swatting at the fighter planes. Sadly though, I was one of the few in the 96% minority of people who saw a trailer for the film before seeing it, so that scene didn't do much for me.

Two... yes, two, I finally made it! I don't at all agree with the notion that Ann chose Kong over Jack. In chronological terms, let's start at the point where she has to make a choice of who to go with after forming bonds with both. This takes us to the scene on the edge of the island when Jack comes to rescue her. Ann chooses, intelligently I might add, to try and escape with Jack, probably because a life of ape sex didn't really appeal to her. Next, we have the scene on the rowboat where the crew, Ann included, is getting away and tirelessly shooting at the animal. Ann reaches for the silverback and pleads for everyone to stop harming the ape. This is hardly any indication of her choosing Kong over Jack. She had simply formed a relationship with Kong and couldn't tolerate seeing harm come to him. I surmise that if the roles of Jack and Kong were reversed in this scene, in addition to the hilarity of those images, we'd learn that Ann felt just as much for Jack as she did Kong.

Regarding why Ann and Jack weren't a couple upon the story's return to El Grande Manzana, that can easily be attributed to Brody's brilliant pansy portrayal of a sensitive writer, afraid to live life beyond his own head. If after Kong's mortal downfall and Jack's coincidental arriving at the top of the skyscraper just seconds later Ann were to look at Jack, look to the street, look to the sky in deep thought for ten seconds, and then jump off, now THAT would've been a case for her choosing the ape. In fact, I hope to see that as an alternate ending on the DVD. Her rapidly paced gravitational trip is shot in slow motion so for a minute we can see a blissful smile on Darrow's face, as if she knows she's moments away from enlightenment. Obviously, the audio at this point would be 20% screams of anguish from people on the street and 80% the classic tune "The One That You Love" by Air Supply.

Take note.

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