The Automatik

I hated the first hour of this movie so much I had to fight the urge to leave the theatre at least five times.

I’m glad I didn’t.

Let me start by saying that I have nothing but respect and reverence for Willis O’Brien, the effects wizard for the original King Kong movie, as well as his prot�g�, Ray Harryhausen (Mighty Joe Young). In fact, when I learned of Peter Jackson’s plans to remake the film, my initial response was irritation. Some things just need to be left alone. However, having admired Jackson’s career for the last decade, I thought that if anyone could craft a relevant remake it would be him. I should also add that it’s been a while since I’ve watched the original and I almost felt like I should before writing this review, but I didn’t want to approach it from a comparison perspective.

Visually, the beginning of the Jackson’s remake is stunning, featuring a post-Depression New York City recreated with the same miraculous attention to detail that Jackson and the folks at the Weta Workshop brought to the Lord of the Rings trilogy. It also felt as if Jackson was also trying to recreate the hokey feel of many of the post-talkies of the early 30s. Visual and plot clich�s such as Carl Denham’s (Jack Black) introduction to Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts) as a reflection in a burlesque hall window and the subsequent close up of her hand crumpling and tossing a business card to the sidewalk nearly made me groan out loud.

With the LOTR films, Jackson managed to create an air of dread from almost the first scene, yet the initial part the film, including the Venture’s voyage to Skull Island, was lacking any sort of build-up of suspense. The predictably surly, superstitious crew (with the exception of the glorious Andy Serkis) and close-ups of a worried Colin Hanks (who seems to have two expressions: confused and somewhat less confused) and the ancient map folded up on a table come off as more amateurish than spooky.

When the fog from around the island first engulfs the ship and the foreboding rock wall presents its treachery, however, things pick up. I found myself bracing for horrific racial stereotypes with the first appearance of the decidedly disturbing natives, but if anything they are so genuinely unpleasant and otherworldly that the people from the ship just seem like ignorant fools by comparison (and the offering made to them of Nestl�’s chocolate, a company infamous for its use of child slave labour, is a nice touch). I wonder if casting a black man as the ship’s first mate was intended to soften the prejudicial blow of seeing the pretty, blonde white woman being kidnapped by a savage native for unspeakable acts of violence. The grotesque minstrel show that Denham later stages for King Kong’s first public appearance in New York and the gawking, predominately Caucasian crowd who obviously fetishizes the exotic seems to clarify Jackson’s stance on the issue, however.

In retrospect, perhaps the stilted opening of the movie was a necessary device to contrast vividly with the atmosphere of Skull Island. The narcissistic and depraved Hollywood of the 1930s that Nathanael West described so chillingly in Day of the Locust comes to mind, a novel which J.G. Ballard called “a nightmare vision of humanity destroyed by its obsession with film.” In particular the character of Carl Denham (Jack Black) seems to personify this nascent evil.

Denham and his quest for a blockbuster is so ridiculous as to be frustratingly comical. Jackson supposedly based his version of the character on a young Orson Welles, but even Welles wasn’t that immoral. As good as Jack Black is at playing twisted, he seems almost cartoonish, and I kept expecting him to burst into a Tenacious D song at any moment. It bothered me that his character wasn’t changed one iota by the events leading up to and including Kong’s death, but this is probably less reflective of Black’s acting skills and more of a larger commentary on human hubris and greed.

Many of the other characters seem fairly one-dimensional, existing merely as foils for the dramatic unfolding of events. I wasn’t totally convinced of the rapidly budding romance between Watts’ character and playwright Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody), despite the definite chemistry between them. Perhaps the scenes which depict them falling in love could have been made more meaningful with improved dialogue.

Watts plays Ann Darrow as a doe-eyed, beestung-lipped ing�nue, and even Denham seems affected by this, though his infatuation with her is purely self-serving. Although Darrow’s appearance as the saddest dreamer Denham ever met may seem contrived at first, eventually it becomes obvious why her naivet� is vital to the movie.

I’ve seen arguments that all CGI does is pave the way for the eventual end of the acting profession and watching the last three Star Wars films lends much credence to this theory. But the character of King Kong is more than just CGI. For one, as he did with Gollum, Andy Serkis brings a remarkable depth to the character that goes beyond something merely computer-generated. Kong seems so genuine that at times it feels as if one is watching footage of a real silverback gorilla. Secondly, the scenes with Ann and Kong are astounding, fascinating, and at times even lyrical. She finally fulfills her wish to make others laugh and as the most selfless character in the entire film, becomes a human voice in the wilderness, not just that of the island, but also of the cutthroat jungle of Hollywood.

I find it difficult to imagine that anyone could remain unmoved during this film. Jackson has said that his decision to cast Watts was finalized when he heard her blood-curdling scream, and she’s got one to rival any horror movie heroine. However, the panoply of raw emotions playing across her face throughout her transformation into Kong’s devoted friend make her the heroine of the film. Her life is forever changed because of her experiences on the island with the gorilla and you can see that in every astonished smile, every tear that splashes down her face, and every sob that she tries in vain to choke back. The famous tragic finale, which takes place atop the Empire State Building, is an unbelievably powerful piece of filmmaking, one that rendered me into a blubbering mess.

Anyone who cares about animals should see this film, despite its many flaws. The character of King Kong may have been brought to life with computer effects, but the ruminations on man’s rapacious and arrogant destruction of animals for sport, money, and pleasure is something that cuts through the celluloid and one that will haunt you long after the film’s end.