Uh-oh, 45 minutes in and no sight of the gorilla. It's 1933, and to make his movie masterpiece, producer Carl (devious) has lured actress Ann (fetching) and screenwriter Jack (heroic) onto a ship bound for exotic climes. The crew - grizzled captain, philosophical first mate, grubby cook, callow cabin boy - reckon that Carl is leading them into trouble. And so he is.
So far, so Titanic. But fear not, for as soon as the boat slams into the mythical Skull Island, all hell breaks loose. First, hostile natives snatch Ann because she'd make the perfect sacrifice for their simian god. Enter the big fella... he's 25 feet of ladykilling silverback, and boy does he take a shine to Ann. Then it's a hair-raising, bone-jarring race through the uncharted jungle for both Kong - who's desperate to hang on to his blonde prize - and the rescuers, led by Jack.
Never mind Never Land, this is Never-Go-There Land. It makes Jurassic Park look like Wimbledon Common. Apes aside, the place is swarming with angry and enormous beasts causing snapping, flapping, stomping, chomping, falling, squalling, creepy-crawly carnage. But amidst it all Carl (clearly mad) has a great idea. Why not capture Kong and take him back ?
Quite simply, this is the most spectacular, exhilarating and marvellously sustained hour of action adventure I've ever seen... But is there anything left for the final act? Hell, yes.
One wrecked theatre and a little mayhem on Broadway leads us up the Empire State building for the dizzying, chest-beating climax. It won't do anyone with a fear of heights any favours whatsoever - and everyone else's fingernails will be burrowing through their chair arms as they will Kong to hang on.
Technically, the production is spectacular on every level, from the wilds of Skull Island to the bustle of 30s' Manhattan. But Jackson's handling of the bond between Kong and Ann is equally impressive. It's a key element, and what could have been laughable is actually something that even cynics could buy into. That's because as much care has gone into Kong's character as his presence. His expressions gel wonderfully with Naomi Watts' committed performance - and she's so much more than just a swooning damsel-in-distress. Fay Wray was a game gal and all, but she never had a giant centipede crawl in her mouth.
So what if Jack Black isn't quite Machiavellian enough to convince in his role and that the first hour is slightly draggy and prone to daft speechifying? One bit of miscasting and a deliberate beginning are but tiny scars on what is a truly magnificent creature.
I'm still dumbstruck. Kong's awesome. Kong rules. Bravo, Peter Jackson, bravo.
So far, so Titanic. But fear not, for as soon as the boat slams into the mythical Skull Island, all hell breaks loose. First, hostile natives snatch Ann because she'd make the perfect sacrifice for their simian god. Enter the big fella... he's 25 feet of ladykilling silverback, and boy does he take a shine to Ann. Then it's a hair-raising, bone-jarring race through the uncharted jungle for both Kong - who's desperate to hang on to his blonde prize - and the rescuers, led by Jack.
Never mind Never Land, this is Never-Go-There Land. It makes Jurassic Park look like Wimbledon Common. Apes aside, the place is swarming with angry and enormous beasts causing snapping, flapping, stomping, chomping, falling, squalling, creepy-crawly carnage. But amidst it all Carl (clearly mad) has a great idea. Why not capture Kong and take him back ?
Quite simply, this is the most spectacular, exhilarating and marvellously sustained hour of action adventure I've ever seen... But is there anything left for the final act? Hell, yes.
One wrecked theatre and a little mayhem on Broadway leads us up the Empire State building for the dizzying, chest-beating climax. It won't do anyone with a fear of heights any favours whatsoever - and everyone else's fingernails will be burrowing through their chair arms as they will Kong to hang on.
Technically, the production is spectacular on every level, from the wilds of Skull Island to the bustle of 30s' Manhattan. But Jackson's handling of the bond between Kong and Ann is equally impressive. It's a key element, and what could have been laughable is actually something that even cynics could buy into. That's because as much care has gone into Kong's character as his presence. His expressions gel wonderfully with Naomi Watts' committed performance - and she's so much more than just a swooning damsel-in-distress. Fay Wray was a game gal and all, but she never had a giant centipede crawl in her mouth.
So what if Jack Black isn't quite Machiavellian enough to convince in his role and that the first hour is slightly draggy and prone to daft speechifying? One bit of miscasting and a deliberate beginning are but tiny scars on what is a truly magnificent creature.
I'm still dumbstruck. Kong's awesome. Kong rules. Bravo, Peter Jackson, bravo.