Peter Jackson's King Kong (2005) never fails to move me. I may never understand how Merian C. Cooper and Edgar Wallace cooked up their original story, but Jackson and his co-writers, Fran Walsh and Philippa Boyens, took that story and elevated it, giving Ann Darrow (and the audience) an emotional connection to Kong. We pitied the poor creature in the original 1933 film, but in 2005 we actually cared about him.
The story begins at the lowest point of the Great Depression in New York City. In the original movie, the filmmakers hit on the idea of using the Empire State Building only because it had recently completed construction and became the tallest structure in the world. We get a glimpse of it early in the 2005 film, as the main characters depart NYC on the Venture as they travel to Skull Island. The pairing of Kong and the Empire State Building was serendipitous, tying the two together from 1933 until the present day. When you visit the building today you can find plenty of King Kong memorabilia.
Jackson uses the scenes in New York to lay more groundwork than the original film did. The movie isn't exactly slow, but he's not afraid to take his time, especially in moments that will pay off unexpectedly later in the story. Before the characters leave the city, we've come to understand just enough about what drives Vaudeville comedienne Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts), film producer Carl Denham (Jack Black), and playwright Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody). We even see how Denham's relationship with his assistant Preston (Colin Hanks) functions, even if we don't understand the level of Preston's loyalty (something even he begins to question).
The crew of the Venture are uniformly effective, from Captain Englehorn (Thomas Krestchmann) and first mate Mr. Hayes (Evan Parke) to Lumpy the cook (Andy Serkis, in an amusing dual role) and even Jimmy (Jamie Bell), a teenager who was abandoned and discovered in the hold of the ship four years previously. Mr. Hayes gives us just enough description of Jimmy's past to intrigue us, but it's never mentioned again.
Once the Venture enters a mysterious fog bank, it's impressive how much the tension ramps up. The early scenes on the island are eerie and strangely beautiful. And then the film crew encounter a tribe of natives that come off as terrifying. More contemporary critics have tried to accuse Jackson of racism, yet his depiction isn't any more racist than the original, and the backstory described in behind-the-scenes interviews makes sense. But they sure seem like a pretty deranged bunch. Once Ann's horrified scream prompts a roar from the as-yet-unseen Kong, the natives waste no time in kidnapping her and presenting her as a sacrificial maiden.
The design and presentation of Skull Island is certainly memorable. Jackson and his team have played true to design of the original film, enhancing things as they go and subtly turning the dial up to eleven. One of my favorite sequences is the fight between Kong and a family of dinosaurs. (I love that Jackson wanted dinosaurs not as paleontologists would describe them but more like old-style movie dinosaurs with crocodilian skin. Another subtle link to the old film.) When Kong, Ann, and the dinosaurs tumble into a ravine full of enormous vines, the choreography of the ongoing battle is stunning. The stakes just go up and up, one danger after another, until we reach Kong's moment of victory.
In the 1933 film, directly after the famous "log sequence," characters were dropped down a ravine into what was called the "spider pit sequence," which was subsequently cut from the movie. The sequence was allegedly too terrifying for audiences of the time. Jackson has included the sequence and made it integral to the plot by highlighting the loss of Denham's film and camera (thus inspiring his reckless plan to capture Kong). It nearly threatens to derail the entire movie, except to demonstrate that Skull Island is a literal hell on Earth. The ominous descriptions of the place before the characters arrive don't even do justice to the harrowing sights they encounter.
There's something almost obscene (in a well-executed way) about the cut from Skull Island to New York City, where audiences clamor to see Denham's vulgar show where Ann Darrow is offered up to "the beast." Adrien Brody has a good scene where Jack, watching his own play, realizes what he's given up and leaves the performance to search for Ann. But he discovers—at the same moment as an emotionally defeated Kong—that Denham is using a double because the real Ann Darrow refused his offers. This angers Kong, who breaks free and begins to terrorize the citizens of New York in a desperate search for his friend. Jack cleverly uses a taxi to draw Kong away from crowds, the ape is eventually reunited with Ann, and their journey to inevitable tragedy begins.
I would place King Kong in the category of what Alfred Hitchcock called "pure cinema." To tell the story in a different medium wouldn't have the same effect. And, yes, I know about the Broadway musical of King Kong, and the unquestionable power of live theater, but nobody in the theater would be unaware that they're watching a giant puppet. Peter Jackson's Kong looks and acts like an actual giant gorilla, and there's a dynamic quality to the cinematography and the acting and the music and the design that can't be reduced to another type of storytelling and hope to have the same impact. I love music, and theater, and books, and art, and photography, and all manner of art forms, but I think the power of well-made movies is almost unmatched. King Kong is an ideal cinematic story.
I've seen the films in the Legendary Pictures' "Monsterverse," and while I enjoyed the first Godzilla (2014), I thought their version of King Kong was a perversion of the character I love. The Kong that first appeared in 1933 and was lovingly remade in 2005 was a 25-foot-tall ape from Skull Island that wound up perishing in New York. The Monsterverse Kong is a hundred feet tall, featured in movies that bear little resemblance to the story I find curiously resonant.
The more I watch Jackson’s film, the more I admire what Naomi Watts and Andy Serkis brought to their roles. Watts had arguably the most difficult job, spending so much time in distress, screaming and being carried around by a giant gorilla. But her emotional connection to Kong is undeniable, affecting us in unexpected moments. My favorite is when Kong sees the sunrise from the top of the Empire State Building, and imitates a gesture made by Ann when they watched a sunset together on Skull Island.
Kong's final ascent is given an almost majestic dimension thanks to the music by James Newton Howard. The music is big and energetic in scenes of terror and action, and then gentle and emotional in scenes of surprising beauty. The connection between Ann and Kong is really conveyed by the music. Thinking back, it's surprising to realize how much of the story is told without dialogue. It could almost be a silent film.
That emotional connection is the key to the entire story, the element that takes it from a sad-but-quirky story to a rich and thoughtful tale of tragedy. The filmmakers have imbued the story with more depth and given it a core of empathy. The 1933 film of King Kong will always be regarded as a classic and a landmark in film history. But in my opinion, the Peter Jackson version is the definitive Kong film.
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