King Kong Review
by Rick Ferguson (filmgeek65 AT hotmail DOT com)December 31st, 2005
Hollywood needs Peter Jackson. In an era in which box office revenues are drying up faster than the world's oil supplies, in which one after another of 2005's supposed studio tent poles collapsed in a splintering sawdust cloud of dashed hopes, this rumpled, barefoot, recently-svelte Kiwi seems to be the only director working today- with the possible exception of SPIDERMAN's Sam Raimi and the still-kicking Steven Spielberg- who knows how to leverage big studio money and digital special effects to create idiosyncratic, personality-driven films that connect with today's increasingly jaded and distracted audiences. If Peter Jackson can't save Hollywood, no one can.
Jackson's LORD OF THE RINGS trilogy succeeded so wildly because, despite his marshalling of the entire adult population of New Zealand in their production, the films were filtered through his singularly personal vision of the source material. What Jackson imagined when he read the trilogy as a tubby teenager, ended up on screen. Those were Jackson's orcs, Jackson's Ents and Jackson's Hobbits we were watching, and Tolkien's brilliance as a mythmaker ensured that those creatures dancing around in Jackson's head would appeal to a mass audience. To achieve greatness, one must risk everything. Jackson risked his career on LORD OF THE RINGS- and that's why he has a mantel full of Oscars, and I'm just writing about him.
But where do you go when you've reached the summit? You can retreat to an octopus's garden in the shade, like Jim Cameron. You can go mad like Coppola, or lose your soul like Lucas. In Jackson's case, he had another mountain yet to climb. THE LORD OF THE RINGS was but a means to reach the top of what was for Jackson his personal Everest- directing a remake of the most beloved film of his starry-eyed youth, Merian C. Cooper's 1933 blockbuster KING KONG. For a card-carrying geek like Jackson, there could be no substitute. He approached Universal about a remake before embarking on his RINGS odyssey, but the studio understandably wasn't ready to entrust their crown jewel to the director of MEET THE FEEBLES. Once Jackson made his bones at the box office, however, his next project was assured.
As a fellow geek on the other side of the screen, I was primed to follow Jackson, the newly crowned Emperor of Geekdom, wherever he wanted to take me. His stated purpose was not to better the 1933 film, nor position it as a cynical exercise in hubris and money-grubbing like the 1976 remake, but rather to pay homage to it, expand and elaborate upon it when necessary and retrofit it with 21st Century special effects. Advance word on the finished product was nothing short of ecstatic- which prompted me to wear rubber underwear on opening night.
So why didn't I love Peter Jackson's KING KONG?
Let's define the playing field. KING KONG is 75 percent the movie I hoped it would be. It is indeed a lavish, loving re-imagining of the original. Thematically, it's right on. The big ape himself is every bit the fully rounded, spectacularly realized digital character that Gollum was in the RINGS films. Naomi Watts was absolutely the perfect choice for Ann Darrow. Skull Island is Jurassic Park after a Jose Canseco-assisted steroid injection in a bathroom stall. Jackson deftly balances terror and humor, gross-outs and moments of sublime beauty. What's not to love? Why didn't I splooge all over the screen?
Someone- probably Roger Ebert- once said that if a movie feels too long, then it's not the length per se, but rather the pacing that's off. No one bitched about the length of TITANIC. Likewise, my niece and I made it through a marathon session of all three Extended Edition LOTR movies without developing bedsores on our butt cheeks. But KONG is a looong sit. You're an hour into it before you even sniff Skull Island. The meat of the film takes place on the island, and it doesn't disappoint; every dinosaur encounter, creepy-crawly insect infestation and pterodactyl blitzkrieg is ratcheted up to Eleven. But sometimes- and I'm risking heresy here, especially for a guy who couldn't get enough of the same stuff in RETURN OF THE KING- it's all too much. Does Kong's battle with three vicious T-Rex's really need to go on for 15 minutes? Does the insect attack really need to last as long as a Proust flashback? Do we really need to watch Watts faux-juggle and do pratfalls after running through the jungle in history's most durable nightgown?
I dunno. I only know that, four films into Jackson's epic adventure period, I'm starting to notice his bag of tricks. He favors the same sort of sweeping CGI shots that we saw ad nauseum in LOTR. Parts of Skull Island look suspiciously like Mordor. The island natives look and act like orcs. Jack Black looks like Sam Gamgee's cousin. At times, I was actively annoyed at Jackson's trademark herky-jerky slow-motion technique designed to heighten moments of extreme drama. All of the stylistic ticks I was willing to give him a pass for in the RINGS movies bothered me here.
That I'm prone to nitpicking means the story is to blame. Maybe Jackson was simply hamstrung by taking on such a well-worn tale - knowing that it ends in tragedy at the foot of the Empire State Building, I couldn't feel the same sense of wonder and discovery I felt in seeing the Rings saga translated from page to screen. Whenever Kong and Watts share the screen together, the film works- he's a technological marvel, while she's an organic one, and their chemistry is palpable. But as long as this movie is, much of it feels careless and tossed off. While Jackson and his screenwriting partners labored over the RINGS scripts, ensuring that every theme, subplot and character was given due attention, none of the supporting characters in this passion play register. Brody is wasted in a contrived romantic subplot with Watts before being relegated to bit player status in the New York finale. Black's Carl Denham is simply despicable, and allowed no moment of clarity or resolution. A bizarre NAMBLA-like subplot between the ships' first mate (Evan Hayes) and a boyish crewman (Jamie Bell) is left for dead. For all the film's gourmet presentation, there's surprisingly little meat beneath all that digital gravy.
But for all its flaws, the film has heart. The titular ape is himself a metaphor for Jackson's film: loud, chest-thumping, uncouth and overbearing, yes, but still ultimately lovable. I'd call KING KONG a near miss and urge Jackson to keep striving for greatness. If Hollywood is to save itself from irrelevance, it needs guys like Peter Jackson to keep throwing Hail Mary passes- even if they occasionally have to punt.
***
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