From the 1933 film ‘King Kong‘

The original film is I am most familiar with Dino DeLaurentiis’ 1976 remake. Though it featured the amazing Carlos Jambaldi Rambaldi, Rick Baker, Charles Grodin and Jeffery ‘The Dude’ Bridges (among others), it was the sight of Ms. Jessica Lange that drew me into the film. In another clear cut case of Wilde’s ‘life imitaties art’ as truth, her spellbinding beauty transcends the misogyny and hubris of Dino’s exploitative, hollow spectacle.

Then there is the Peter Jackson’s kiwi-style remake from 2005 which is another movie as well. And yet, despite my distaste for both of these films (through a certain lens, if you like), they are both visual marvels to behold, each in their own right. In this case, I find looking at the pictures far more delightful than opening myself to the film’s attempts to engage me in the story and characters.

Opening myself up to the raw power and inherent virtues of the images without the burden of story and dialogue, I find a far more engrossing story begins to emerge. Interpretation begins to play a larger role and I am less subject to the feeling of having lost lift from flourishes I may find disagreeable or distasteful. The myth (apart and separate from readings on subtext political or otherwise) comes to the fore through the imagery and therein lies the ‘magic’. The potency of that myth is what has drawn so many to the sandbox. And like the other legendary giant monster movie franchise, there are numerous accounts of other exploits in that realm. So much so, it resembles more a litter box these days.