King Kong
I fucking love This Is Spinal Tap. Adore it. I credit it as one of the films that inspired me to want to start making movies. But, Mr. Jackson, if I suddenly found myself in a powerful position where, due to phenomenal past successes, I could make any film I wanted, and no one would say a word against any decision I made, I would not, repeat, would not, remake This Is Spinal Tap. And I don’t understand any reasoning to the contrary. If you think a film is the best film ever made, how fucking audacious to then say you’re going to re-make it, and by inference, make it better.
King Kong is a 3-hour portrait of an ego, an ego the size of the eponymous giant ape himself. Never has a movie been made that is such an advocate for studio interference as this one, and that’s because there obviously was not any. Peter Jackson has made exactly the film he wanted to, an apparent love-letter to the film that opened his eyes to the magical world of cinema, and what a wank it is.
Is he really that full of himself now that any film he makes automatically has to be “epic” (meaning, in his vocabulary, 3-fucking-hours-plus long?). Remember the end of Return Of The King, or should I say, ends? How it seemed he couldn’t decide on a single ending, so he instead tossed several out – and hey, who was going to tell him not to? The other films had made a bazillion gazillion dollars! The same feeling drowns the first third of King Kong, and soured the rest of the film for me. Do we really need an hour introducing us to all these characters? I would say it is the sign of a brilliant filmmaker that makes sure you aren’t even aware of this process, that it takes place, let’s see, as the fucking story progresses. By the time they got to Skull Island King Kong was pretty much the worst film I had seen this year. I would take the stupid and ugly X-Men 3 (the previous title-holder) over this first, painful, third of Kong, any day of the fucking week.
Of course it gets better than this. On Skull Island there’s some cool action, dinosaurs (if that’s your thing), and some more action, and then it turns into Kong Takes Manhattan. There’s some really great stuff in here. Mr. Jackson isn’t an idiot. He makes sure his film appeals to the boys as much as the girls, and sometimes he has such a wonderful eye for action…
But let’s not forget something: This is a film about an ape that is in love with a woman. And, apparently, vice versa. But if you care about Kong, it’s because you’ve been manipulated to. He’s a cute furry animal, with adorable human characteristics, and very nicely acted and exquisitely rendered. It’s not because of the fucking love story. This is a film about an ape that is in love with a woman. That can’t be said enough.
Mr. Jackson, please remove your head from your arse. Some of us remember the joyful B-grade splatter flicks you once made. And you know what, I see more signs of greatness in those flicks, and in the chances you’ve taken with stuff like Forgotten Silver, and Heavenly Creatures, than I do on most of your Lord Of The Rings work, and especially more than in this film, in spite of the fact that every frame is virtually stamped with the words ‘I am untouchable’, as you obviously think you now are.
I know you loved the original King Kong Mr. Jackson. They say if you love something, you have to be prepared to let it go. Well if you love something, sometimes you should also leave it the fuck alone too.