Monday, December 19, 2005

King Kong could have easily been 40 minutes shorter. Too much backstory for the red shirts. Too much gravitas stapled on to something that should be a straightahead actioner. Peter Jackson is responsible for one of my favorite movies of all time, but since then has churned out three bloated spectacles I enjoyed but never need to see again. Let's hope he got it all out of his system during this romp through the candy store, and exercises some restraint for The Lovely Bones. My estimation of the 1933 Kong has only increased. They can do anything and everything onscreen in 2005. They couldn't in 1933, so the accomplishment means so much more. There's still more soul in that clay-and-fur model than in Andy Serkis's pinky.

The new one's worth seeing, don't get me wrong. Just show up late.

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