This is probably not the first time a reviewer has written a review of a movie before actually seeing it. In fact, it wouldn't surprise me if it happened all too often. Now don't get me wrong, I have every intention of seeing Peter Jackson's King Kong. I bet you anything I'll like it too. Nay, love it.
It's just that before I see it, I have a thought about comparisons between the original--which I used to watch religiously on Thanksgiving Day for no apparent reason and which I've seen a gazillion times (I love it more every time I see it but now I'm running the risk of loosing my train of thought)--and what for all intents and purposes looks to be a fine and sturdy and heartfelt remake.
What I'm almost afraid of seeing in the new version, and what I believe I actually will see, is a gradually strengthening bond between Kong and his female human paramour. I think she will cry out and weep when the giant beast tumbles from the Empire State Building. I believe when the moment comes, Iwill cry.
And that is precisely what will make this new version weaker than the original far-less-sentimental and far-more-existential and dark film. In the original film, the only person who truly had compelling sympathy for the beast was...me. Fay Wray never once showed any connection to Kong and remained terrified, rightfully so, until the bitter end. The only witness to the menacing and misunderstood giant's feelings is...the viewer. And that is what will always remain the true testament to the longevity and power of the film.
Kong truly has feelings, emotions, and perhaps even love for Fay Wray's character. But, as is the case with so many of us in our small, wandering and sometimes aimless lives, our deepest feelings are hidden from the outside world. Such was the fate of Kong. The only actual witness to the depth of his character is the viewer of the film.
Thursday, December 29, 2005
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
EIGHT LEGGED FREAKS (2002)
For the duration of this pitiable horror comedy the thought that kept coming to the surface like the “grab-oids” in Tremors was “This simply isn’t Tremors”. This is a movie that wants to combine the horror and comedy that mixed so well in Tremors but it fails miserably.
It wants to have the eccentric cross-section-of-humanity-living-in-a-small-spit-of-a-town ensemble but the characters are simply not as endearing as those in Tremors. The town in Tremors is the ironically named Perfection. In Eight Legged Freaks, it’s the ironically named Prosperity. It’s population includes the African-American ham radio DJ spouting conspiracy theories and alien invasion paranoia from his trailer radio station. There’s the female sheriff with the detached teenage daughter (Scarlett Johansen) and the nerdy pre-teen son who, of course, knows everything about arachnid behavior. The kookie oddballs go on and on but I really don’t care to go any further with it. It all seems very forced and drawn up by committee.
Above all, what Tremors had going for it was the very natural comic interplay between Val & Earl, Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward respectively. They truly had the timing and rapport that recalled the glory days of Abbot and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, or better yet, Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon. David Arquette doesn’t really have any comic timing to speak of and certainly not the presence to carry a picture.
And finally, what’s with the talking spiders? Yes, the spiders have been given squeaky little cartoon voices that seem to utter things like “yow!” and “yipes!” and “ouch!” and “Oh, No!” at appropriately charming moments. Whatever chills the very expert cgi spiders could have offered is cancelled out by the Tom & Jerry sound effects.
Filled with Speilberg-esque Amazing Stories music, this stupid horror flick fails to scare, fails to generate laughs and keeps the viewer wondering just what the intent of its production was.
Directed by Ellory Elkayem, I give this wretched Tremors rip-off all eight legs from the squashed spider under my big ol’ boot.
It wants to have the eccentric cross-section-of-humanity-living-in-a-small-spit-of-a-town ensemble but the characters are simply not as endearing as those in Tremors. The town in Tremors is the ironically named Perfection. In Eight Legged Freaks, it’s the ironically named Prosperity. It’s population includes the African-American ham radio DJ spouting conspiracy theories and alien invasion paranoia from his trailer radio station. There’s the female sheriff with the detached teenage daughter (Scarlett Johansen) and the nerdy pre-teen son who, of course, knows everything about arachnid behavior. The kookie oddballs go on and on but I really don’t care to go any further with it. It all seems very forced and drawn up by committee.
Above all, what Tremors had going for it was the very natural comic interplay between Val & Earl, Kevin Bacon and Fred Ward respectively. They truly had the timing and rapport that recalled the glory days of Abbot and Costello, Laurel and Hardy, or better yet, Walter Matthau and Jack Lemmon. David Arquette doesn’t really have any comic timing to speak of and certainly not the presence to carry a picture.
And finally, what’s with the talking spiders? Yes, the spiders have been given squeaky little cartoon voices that seem to utter things like “yow!” and “yipes!” and “ouch!” and “Oh, No!” at appropriately charming moments. Whatever chills the very expert cgi spiders could have offered is cancelled out by the Tom & Jerry sound effects.
Filled with Speilberg-esque Amazing Stories music, this stupid horror flick fails to scare, fails to generate laughs and keeps the viewer wondering just what the intent of its production was.
Directed by Ellory Elkayem, I give this wretched Tremors rip-off all eight legs from the squashed spider under my big ol’ boot.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
