Most of the rash of remakes spewing out of Hollywood these days are merely cynical cash-ins of a previous film's reputation without honoring its integrity—reinventing the concept for a new audience but sacrificing or ignoring the very qualities that made the originals timeless in the first place. A few (out of countless) examples of this egregious output are the recent frenetic but forgettable replay of George Romero's socially satirical horror masterpiece Dawn of the Dead, the star-studded but soulless rip-off of the Rat Pack vehicle Ocean's 11, and any of the bloated Mission: Impossible big screen adaptations, rendered unrecognizable from the great TV series by Tom Cruise's ego.
Every now and then a remake comes along that not only honors its predecessor, but also manages to expand upon its concepts without insulting its heritage. Examples of this rare specimen are last year's timely and terrific update of the postwar paranoia thriller The Manchurian Candidate and this year's outstanding re-imagining of War of the Worlds, which is even more terrifying than the justly-revered 1953 classic (and not just because Cruise is in it.)
Now we have what I believe to be the ultimate remake, a film that embraces and pays tribute to its inspiration, but in so doing creates something wholly unique and in itself inspiring—an instant classic that can stand alone on its own monstrous merits.
New Zealand filmmaker Peter Jackson, fresh off his award-winning milestone Lord of the Rings trilogy, is famous for his reverence of the original King Kong from 1933. He has often designated it as the movie that made him want to make movies. Given practically unlimited resources with the most cutting edge special effects team in the world at his disposal, many of whom share his unbridled enthusiasm for the project, Jackson pulled off a miracle. He has re-invigorated an icon without totally re-inventing it, putting his own personal stamp on a masterpiece with reverence rather than revisionism.
Dare I say it? At the risk of offending traditional purists, I shall. King Kong (2005) is at least on par with King Kong (1933). In a head to head match, I'd have to call it a draw. In fact, Kong '05 has Kong '33 in a headlock and is giving him noogies, threatening to steal his crown. Sacrilege? No—because the guy responsible for the new Kong was motivated by his desire to bring back old Kong from the dead. This is more of a resurrection than a remake.
Jackson's version of Merien C. Cooper's masterpiece is three hours long. Many critics have complained about the length, even though long-ass movies are the norm during the Oscar-heavy holiday movie season. The reason Jackson's movie is so much longer than the original (which clocks in at about 100 minutes) is because he's developed some back story for the characters, namely the ruthless but charming entrepreneur/movie maker Carl Denham. The character is brought to life by Jack Black, who is just as dynamic in his own interpretation of the role as Robert Armstrong was in the original.
There's also more substance given to the characters of Jack Driscoll (played by Adrian Brody), now a Clifford Odets-type playwright rather than Bruce Cabot's rugged seafaring adventurer, and of course Kong's love interest Ann Darrow (played by Naomi Watts, who nearly steals the show with those big moist baby blues), whose screaming echoes Fay Wray without emulating it.
Also, there's a lot more gut-wrenching, chest-thumping, nail-biting, jaw-dropping action on Skull Island, Kong' s home—more creatures, more dinosaurs, more fights. It's bigger and in places, better than the first one, if only because technology has grown exponentially since the original's Willis O'Brien invented the special effects blockbuster, influencing everyone from Ray Harryhausen to George Lucas to Steven Spielberg to…Peter Jackson. It's how Jackson utilizes these sophisticated moviemaking tools that gives his movie heart and soul, which are complemented rather than overwhelmed by the awe-inspiring visuals.
Jackson understands the fact that what makes Kong '33 an enduring classic are not just the pioneering special effects by O'Brien, but how "Obie" managed to create a living being out of a stop motion puppet, prompting audiences to scream, laugh and cry. In terms of sheer ingenuity, technical innovation and emotional impact, there was nothing like it before and nothing to match it since…till now.
Jackson's Kong is equally impressive by the standards of its own day, both from a technical viewpoint and also as a work of gut-level cinematic art. Like the original, this is one for the ages. I can't think of two equally classic films made out of the same material, not offhand anyway. And this isn't the first time Kong has been remade, either.
The one element Jackson borrowed from Dino De Laurentis' 1976 remake—now reduced to a historical footnote*—was the empathy the blonde captive feels for her ferocious but ultimately protective captor. In the original, Fay Wray spent the whole time screaming in utter terror, trying desperately to escape from her brutish kidnapper, whereas Naomi Watts develops the sort of kinship with Kong one might feel for a pet. A really, really big pet. In any case, the strange, exotic, mysterious rapport works, and is the key to new movie's artistic success.
With all this extra exposition, my one source of frustration with Jackson's embellishing of the epic is that, for some odd reason, perhaps because he was running out of time, he left unlocked the single biggest mystery of all—HOW THE HELL DID THEY GET KONG BACK TO NEW YORK VIA THAT RICKETY FREIGHTER??? Even the '76 King Kong dramatized this missing piece from the first film—in that remake, Kong was transported via a gigantic oil tanker. Jackson's "Venture" is practically identical to the '33 vessel, leaving the same gap in storytelling logic wide open for viewer conjecture. Maybe it'll be on the four-hour DVD version!? Personally I can't wait. Hey, what's three or four hours out of twenty four in a day if you're having this much fun?
One big difference between the two versions is that Kong '33 is now considered family entertainment, though in its day it was popularly deemed not only terrifying, but also somewhat risqué. Times and tastes have evolved dramatically in the interim decades, and most modern kids would probably find Kong '33 pretty tame. So Jackson naturally ups the intensity. When I saw it, several parents had to take their tykes out of the theater during several of Kong '05's more violent moments.
Even some of the moments that aren't particularly bloody or loud could still disturb pre-teens. The zombie-like natives of Jackson's Skull Island could make the meek cringe by their appearance alone. This time they're realistically frightening, savage pagans, much more akin to the denizens of those creepy Italian cannibal flicks from the 80s than to the poor black extras from Kong '33, forced to speak the language of "Ungawa" and dress up like dancing gorillas in a Broadway musical. The confrontations with the island natives in this version are pure unadulterated Jackson, and that's pretty scary.
Also pure Jackson is the nightmarish spider pit scene, rife with the most disgusting assortment of giant slugs, insects and creepy-crawlies ever seen on film, and it is the single most intense segment of the remake. This same scene—depicting what lurked within the canyon the sailors are thrown into as Kong shakes them off a log—was allegedly filmed for the original but instantly considered too graphically horrible and cut. It's long been considered lost and is now legendary, though it was recreated with painstaking aesthetic precision by Jackson's special effects team as an extra on the new King Kong '33 DVD. Jackson's own spider pit scene will go down in horror movie history as a legend on its own. It'll make you squirm with delirious discomfort.
But the most shocking Jackson re-touch is one subtle but significant shift in the dynamics between Ann and Kong from '33 to '05. As I pointed out, this time it's much more symbiotic and sympathetic. Jackson—possibly the most demented cinematic genius ever let loose on the mainstream market, as evidenced by his extremely twisted muppet movie Meet the Feebles and the even sicker zombie satire Dead Alive—is perfectly capable of inventing new, perverted ways to relate the romance of a hot little babe and a big smelly monkey. But Ann Darrow's relationship with Kong in this version is chaste, pure, passionate and touching, without any of the notorious clothes-stripping and finger-sniffing from the pulpy predecessor. It's actually a very, very moving love story, without any irony or wink-wink sexual subtext. This is Jackson's single most effective accomplishment, even amid all the bluster and thunder of the many CGI wonders. It's the emotional element that ensures the posterity of his version, the same way Kong '33's expressive eyes immortalized the original.
Many more subtle touches may go by unnoticed by those unfamiliar with the original, but these are exactly what make this remake so exceptional. For instance, in Jackson's world, as I've pointed out, Jack Driscoll is a writer, not a fighter. But a suave but smarmy movie star (Kyle Chandler from TV's Homefront) portrays a rough and tumble he-man type in the action flick Denham is making on Skull Island, replete with some of the original sexist dialogue uttered by the "real" Driscoll back in '33's script. Also, when Kong is chained up in the Manhattan theater for public display, Denham stages a cheesy nightclub type revue with professional "native" performers - decked out in the exact gaudy costumes as the "natives" wore in the original film, even duplicating the same sacrificial ritual number with a blonde ringer. This way, Jackson gets to slyly acknowledge the racist and sexist attitudes that were prevalent in 1933 society and culture, without indulging them and possibly alienating modern viewers.
But there's more to it than politically correct hindsight. Jackson is paying homage to his favorite film by faithfully recreating moments and cues within a creative context. Even the band in the orchestra pit plays Max Steiner's famous '33 score as the chained Kong '05 sadly awaits his ultimate fate—again.
As we all know, the Empire State building standoff from Kong '33 is one of the most iconic images in film history. Jackson doesn't try to top it, but again, he fleshes it out with more blood, sweat and tears. It's at least as effective as in the first film. Just as memorable to me is Kong's reunion with Ann after he escapes the theater, and their subsequent "ice-skating" scene on a pond in Central Park before reality sets in to thwart the reunited "romancers". Read into it what you will, but I was rooting for this odd couple to overcome the odds.
Don't want to spoil it for you, but I'll give you a hint how it turns out—Jack Black utters the same famous last line as Robert Armstrong did back in '33.
In many ways, Jackson's film improves upon the original, not only from a technical standpoint, which is to be expected, but on a visceral level—and since the realization of Kong is the key component to our compassion for his animated character, the two aspects are related. I was skeptical when I first heard about the remake, but after Jackson revealed his personal passion for the project, and his love for the original, I was hopeful.
Then the trailer looked a little Jurassic Park-y for my tastes, and again I feared the worst—a big screen video game, like the ridiculous American remake of Godzilla. And initially, I was no big fan of CGI, since I didn't think a bunch of computer geeks could ever match the grueling craftsmanship and corporeal genius of Willis O'Brien's work or Ray Harryhausen's many memorable creations. I am still more impressed with the one-man show that makes stop motion so awe-inspiring in its detail, but Kong '05 has made me realize that when the people creating it care enough, CGI is capable of inspiring that same sense of childlike wonderment.
Not everyone will share my assessment, naturally. I should point out I also prefer Christopher Lee's 1958 Horror of Dracula over the 1931 Bela Lugosi classic from Universal, the granddaddy of all vampire films. The remake is technically and atmospherically superior, in my view, plus it's sexier and scarier than the stagey Lugosi film. Still, Lugosi's Dracula gets props for blazing the trail.
Kong '33 is due the same respect, but it's also a great movie in its own right, not nearly as dated as the first Dracula. It has definitely not been eclipsed by Jackson's film, not by a long shot. That would've been the opposite of his intentions.
What does the '33 version have over '05? For one thing it's the original. It came first, set the standard, paved the path and dominated the fantasy film field for decades—its influence is still felt today. Kong '33 cast the mold not only for the newer model, but also for countless special effects epics of the last 70 plus years. Also, not only did Kong '33 have no peers for decades, it had no predecessors, unless you count the 1925 silent movie of Arthur Conan Doyle's The Lost World, Willis O'Brien's debut and the first stop motion dinosaur picture. So audiences at the time of its release—and for years since—were astounded by its audacious and brilliant originality, since they had absolutely nothing to compare it to.
Kong '33 also benefits from longevity, which carries with it an inherent demand for respect, unclouded by nostalgia or sentimentality. Kong '05 is visually astonishing, but you can't say you've never experienced anything like it, even if this movie is on a grander scale than similar blockbusters. Today's moviegoers are jaded and spoiled by constantly evolving special effects. In five years the amazing CGI of Kong '05 may already seem dated. What we'll be left with is exactly the quality that established Kong '33 as one of the greatest movies of all time, in any genre—the pathos.
The bottom line is this—both versions are classics of their respective eras, groundbreaking achievements that represent the very best creative minds of the period in which each was made. But will Jackson's Kong enjoy the same timeless appeal as Cooper's?
Time will tell....
*In this camped-up "modern" version of the familiar tale, Kong was a guy in an ape suit plunked down in the middle of the "Me" decade. Jessica Lange was pretty sexy, and it has many moments of cheesy charm, but just the fact that Kong climbs the World Trade Center this time curses it into dated oblivion.
