Fay Wray Come Out and Play Part 1 (a retrospective)

countchocula · #1 06-24-2004, 11:51 PM

Fay Wray Come Out and Play: A King Kong Compendium

When it comes to creature feature smash-em-ups, two imperators share the scepter. I dig Gamera, Mighty Joe Young, the Ymir, and every other elephantine city stomper, but a certain pair of empyreal beasts tower above them all. Of course, I speak of Godzilla and King Kong. I’ve always been a G-buff myself. Ever since I was old enough to dandle my genitalia, I’ve apotheosized the iconic cynosure. Maybe it was because outmoded monster movies were the only genre films that my mom would permit me to watch in elementary school. Maybe my fascination with dinosaurs bled into my cinematic tastes. Maybe I had no life. Whatever the mainspring, Gojira tickled my pickle, and I couldn’t get enough of Toho’s merchant prince. It wasn’t until later in life that I took an interest in the eighth wonder of the world. And then after I discovered twinkies, I got into King Kong.

1925’s The Lost World coxswained stop-motion animation as we know it, and was technically the first consumptive monster mash to shake up the film industry. 1933’s King Kong is just as deviceful and innovative. The threat was no longer sequestered on a remote island. We took it upon ourselves to schlep the opposer to our territory. Having home field advantage didn’t seem like much of an advantage. Whenever I see a brobdingnagian (yep, it’s a word) brute plowing through oppidan urban areas, I think of Kong. This is the “skyscraper subversion” movie.

Who better to bring Kong to life than Willis O’Brien, Ray Harryhausen’s mentor? O’Brien’s clay constructs are superlatively detailed and veridical. Kong’s movements are fluid, and while the actors could seldom react to a tangible existent, he’s much more imposing and lifelike than any CGI contrivance could ever hope to be. Via rear-projection photography (fancy term for “blue screen effects”), Kong is allowed to interact with his human co-stars. For the most part, the humans aren’t in the foreground, so relatively speaking, this then-vanguard technique is executed swimmingly.

The premier primate isn’t the only stop-motion mutt in attendance. Throughout the course of the film, Kong spars with a Tyrannosaurus Rex, a Pterodactyl, a lengthy lizard (get your mind out of the gutter), and an anfractuous serpent. A Stegosaurus and an unidentified sauropod also make special appearances, but they don’t joust with the lovestruck lemur. That’s a lot of monsters. They call for A LOT of action sequences. Revisiting this punctilious paradigm after three years or so, I had forgotten just how action-packed it is. The entire second half is earmarked for ungrudging furore. The pacing is meteoric, the herculean battles are never cut short (this is 4.6 billion ambits away from the slatternly bedpan that is Jurassic Park III), and it’s a given that the effects are matchless.

I don’t see how anyone could be bored with it. Even the talky exposition is engrossing. The first act is fleeced of ataxia, but the human characters sustain the film’s steady pulse. The sightly Fay Wray manages as Ann Darrow. It’s a thin part, but Wray proves that she’s capable of doing more than kicking and screaming. Robert Armstrong is lively as Carl Denham, the industrious filmmaker who will stop at nothing to accede to prominence amongst his peers. The ambitious type is usually portrayed as being insentient and egocentric (see Dr. Frankenstein), but Denham is refreshingly well-rounded. He aspires to achieve notoriety, but he’s considerate of his compatriots.

It goes without saying that the script tries to wedge a love angle into the proceedings. It’s sloppy, improbable, and apish (“I think I love you.”). But gee-golly blandishment is expected. For what it’s worth, Bruce Cabot is competent as John Driscoll, Ann’s virile beau. As the film’s most famous line denotes, this is a sportive variation on Beauty and the Beast. Even the most graceless savage can be lulled into amity by love, that wretched pro-depressant. That’s really the only message that King Kong runs with. Some could argue that it touches on racism and misogyny, but the film doesn’t concern itself with weighty social issues. If it does, these allegories are subtle so as not to dispirit prepubescent horror militants the world over. This is first and foremost a popcorn picture, a staggering one at that.

The film’s success prompted a sequel. Son of Kong proves that studio heads have always been avaricious sensualists. It was released the same year as its predecessor. To call it a rushed production would be a vast understatement. The harefooted shooting schedule shows in the film’s gauzy storyline, its minimal creature effects, and its imponderable running time of 70 minutes. It was obviously geared towards children. Kong’s moppet stands at twelve feet and possesses human characteristics. He befriends trespassers, performs heroic deeds, and makes “cute” noises. None of this is as nauseating as it sounds, but I sorely missed Baby Kong’s badass progenitor.

The plot picks up one month after the events of the first film. Carl Denham is faced with bounteous lawsuits, court orders, and encroaching reporters. He aches to get away from it all, so he emplanes with a few of his fellow seafarers and wends on the open waters. During this furlough, the notion strikes Denham to traverse Kong’s native isle in search of a supposed hidden treasure. While there, he chances upon Kong Jr. It’s an amicable encounter, and the filial fiend cottons to Denham and his crew. The leisurely build-up is both arid and rewarding. The character development is solvent, but the pace craps out early on. For a film so short, it feels hopelessly long-winded. Unlike the original, there is no payoff. The poised first act isn’t complimented by a booming, clangorous climax.

On the upside, Son of Kong betters its forebear where acting and melodrama are concerned. Robert Armstrong reprises his role as Carl Denham with discretion and abstemiousness. He’s not as chirpy this time around. He feels somewhat responsible for the defoliation left in Kong’s wake, having inadvertently aided in the death of hundreds. Armstrong’s performance is believable, and it actually feels like the film takes place one month after the original. Helen Mack makes for a ducky substitute for Fay Wray. She serves as the obligatory love interest, but the chemistry between her and Armstrong is never forced. She’s hot, too.

I loved the witty dialogue, the character interplay, and the circumstantial humor. Had Son of Kong gone the distance, it could have been an epic adventure. Hell, it could have surpassed King Kong. The film’s dramatic elements are certainly superior to that of its antecedent. Alas, it defalcates in the action department. The stop-motion effects are still inimitable, but Willis O’Brien doesn’t get a chance to exhaust all of his resources. Only two battle sequences left an affirmatory impression on me, one involving a giant bear and the other a sauropod of some sort (by the by, sauropods are long-necked dinosaurs...I envy those who didn’t know that). I realize that this is an acclimatized family film above all else, but it’s underwhelming for genre connoisseurs. RKO Radio Pictures should have been more patient with the project. It falls in the coulda-been-a-contender category, which is almost as submissive as being outright awful.

Kong hibernated for roughly 30 years after Son of Kong. It’s hard to believe that RKO didn’t further capitalize on the regnant titan’s immense popularity with supplementary sequels. Bustle wouldn’t betide Kong until 1962’s King Kong vs. Godzilla, one of the goofiest kaiju romps ever machinated. Maybe it’s just the American version that is unintentionally hysterical. Much like Gojira’s big screen debut, the film was dumbed down for domestic distribution. Laggard footage of a news broadcast was inserted thereunto, the score was replaced (it seems to have been lifted from The Creature From the Black Lagoon), and the ending was deliquesced. In other words, Universal fucked it up.

For years, rumors suggested that two endings were shot. The Japanese version ostensibly revealed Godzilla to be the victor, whereas the American version lavished the championship belt upon King Kong. To the best of my knowledge, this rumor has since been debunked. Both redactions conclude the same way, only in the Japanese version, Godzilla’s glottal growl can be heard as Kong canters in the distance. Technicalities aside, King Kong vs. Godzilla is a fun, cavorting match-up that is as reckless as you would suspect. I don’t think that there are actually any characters. Sure, there are people who say stuff and do stuff, but they’re as functional as props. They exist solely to...exist.

Of course, the dubbing is extirpative. All of the “actors” go so far over the top, you keep waiting for their extremities to pop off. The principal players (King Kong and Godzilla, that is) are decorticated of menace and wonder. This was only the third entry in both monsters’ respective series. Godzilla wasn’t kid-friendly yet, and Kong wasn’t a man in a suit yet. Leave it to Toho to bestialize each character’s legacy. Big-G is no longer an imposing presence. He simply skitters about as if he has quince marmalade running through his veins. A simulacrum of his former self, Kong is just a guy in a frazzled, unwieldy costume. The actor at least moves like an animal, but Kong’s appearance doesn’t, well, bring King Kong to mind. Why abandon stop-motion effects when they looked slick thirty years prior?

I like to chaff Toho for camping things up, but my inner child adulates dumb, facultative b-movie bedlam. Say what you will about the preceding 75-80 minutes, but the final showdown between Kong and Godzilla is a detonative sight to behold. It makes Freddy vs. Jason’s climactic tiff seem like a complaisant misunderstanding. For one thing, it’s not interrupted by “character” scenes. We get 10-15 minutes straight of the colossal archfiends duking it out. The action is pertinacious. At one point, Kong shoves a fucking tree down Godzilla’s throat! As toilful as the finishing fray is, the resolution isn’t fulfilling. It’s not terribly logical, and could irk many a fanboy.

Adam J. Hakari · #2 06-24-2004, 11:57 PM

*stands up and slow-claps*

A terrific read, Count. I loved KING KONG, and you did a great job giving the big ape a helluva write-up.

EDIT: Damn, I didn't realize there was a Part 2 to this!