Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong) is a Hollywood director who
has a plan to make his next film a huge success. He’s got a map to Skull Island
(no need to worry with that name) where he’s heard rumour that a mighty
creature is just waiting to star in his next film. Denham needs a female lead –
so plucks Ann Darrow (Fay Wray) off the streets promising her the adventure of
a lifetime. During the voyage to the island, she falls in love with first mate
Jack Driscoll (Bruce Cabot). On arrival at the island they find a tribe of ferocious
narratives, who kidnap Ann intending to sacrifice her to their god Kong – a
massive gorilla. Instead Kong falls for Ann and carries her into the jungle.
When Driscoll and Denham go to save her they find Skull Island is a dangerous
place (who knew!), stuffed with brutal dinosaurs and scary beasts – and that
Kong himself has no plans to give Ann back.
King Kong’s final hour is essentially little more
than a stream of action scenes. However, few action films since have paced its
action as well as this film does. With special effects by Willis O’Brien, one
of the earliest masters of stop-motion, Kong in turn takes on a T-Rex, a
pterodactyl, a village of natives and then most of New York in a series of
escalating and dramatic sequences which use all the tricks Hollywood had, from
animation to models and back projection. Each of these sequences are perfectly
done and carry the sort of awe that stop-motion animation can project – all
those hours of work! – helped by the successful (and brilliantly clever) use of
back-projection to have these battling beasts seeming to tower over the human
cast. You can imagine how thrilling it must have been – I’m not sure anything
like this had been seen before.
As such it’s rather hard not to root for him – or feel his
pain (and shock) when attacked by planes at the top of the Empire State
Building. You can see in Kong’s eyes the lack of understanding about what these
metal objects are that are punching through his skin. The shooting gallery is
tinged with tragedy – and it’s hard not to cheer when Kong manages to take one
of these planes down. For all his fierceness, Kong seems like a real person, a
vulnerable guy taken out of his depth against his will. The cruelty of
exploiting Kong for Broadway ticket sales, as Denham plans to do, seems
particularly un-just. It brilliantly allows us to get the best of both worlds:
we can enjoy the spectacle of the wild animal Kong snapping the jaws of T-Rexs
but we also feel for him as a confused and frightened animal put to death in a
world he doesn’t understand.
Perhaps its easier to sympathise with Kong because so many
of the human characters in it barely register. The first forty minutes is
low-key – and often frankly rather flat – competently filmed but fairly-stiff
build-up, carefully (and at times rather pointedly) establishing the situation
and themes. None of the actors make much an impression (not helped that the
second half of the film is so Kong focused that they hardly have a line to
share). Robert Armstrong is effectively arrogant and ambitious as Denham. Bruce
Cabot is pretty wooden as Driscoll (his first film after being recruited from
the studio doorman staff, he has said he essentially stood where he was told
and that was it). Fay Wray has a certain sweetness and charm as Ann, but barely
opens her mouth other than to scream after the first forty minutes (in a neat
bit of wit, her rehearsal on ship is standing still and practising screaming silently
at an object she can’t see). With its blundering Hollywood director at the
heart of all the chaos, King Kong could also be one of the first
Hollywood satires.
The film is very proud of its “Twas beauty that killed the
beast” concept (it’s repeated numerous times in the film – not least most
famously at the end) – but it’s an idea that is already framing Kong as the
victim. So, for all the triumph of the design – the production design is
stunning, rarely have Hollywood back lots looked as good – and the awe of Kong,
the idea of him as a victim is there from the start.
A lot of that awe though comes from possibly the film’s MVP:
Max Steiner. King Kong is one of the first films to use a full
orchestral score and the music is vital to adding heft, drama and danger to
this stop-motion beast. Steiner’s score superbly uses motifs to build Kong’s
presence and operatic crescendos that brilliantly heighten the drama. It’s
certainly one of the most influential scores ever written – and it’s impact on
film history is so lasting, that watching the film today you take it’s
revolutionary nature for granted, so often has the way of using music become
part of our accepted cinematic language.
King Kong lasts because of the awe it builds for the
monster, but also the way we start to feel for him. Complimented by the professional
skill of Cooper and Schoedsack’s direction, King Kong still grips today,
for all that you need to read into it more depth than is (perhaps) there. But
depth isn’t what made Kong great. It was the excitement and drama of the
spectacle - and its so exciting you barely notice that Kong dramatically increases in scale as the film continues. And while special effects have moved on, the power of what’s
presented here hasn’t. Deserves to be listed as one of the most influential
films ever made.
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