How Peter Jackson Brought King Kong’s Complicated Legacy Into the 21st Century
It was Beauty killed the Beast...
I was a budding cinephile when Peter Jackson’s King Kong came out in 2005. And like many, I was excited. It was unavoidable, much like the marketing and subsequent public frenzy of anticipation. Jackson was fresh off of the wildly successful The Lord of the Rings trilogy, and now he was about to make what was clearly a passion project.
This was also obviously before the endless reboots, prequels, and sequels, so everyone was anticipating seeing the imagery we all knew with fresh new eyes. Jackson proved he could respect what made a property so beloved while meticulously bringing his signature blend of epic action fueled by human connection. So like any cinephile would, I decided to watch the original 1933 movie that inspired it. And when I did, there was a lingering question in my mind: why was no one talking about the racism of it all?
I could see why everyone was so eager to see this on the big screen again, myself still included. And I could see why it had stood the test of time. But along with everything that already felt familiar to me due to the constant recycling of so much of the action, characters, and concepts, I had now seen for myself a whole lot of racial and gender politics of the time that left me a bit squeamish — all the more so because almost no one seemed to want to acknowledge it.
But sometimes your cinematic heroes don’t let you down, and Jackson already proved he could sympathize with the little guy, even if in this case the little part was metaphorical. Gleefully reveling in the three hour runtime, the 2005 King Kong builds up its human cast, giving each of them backstories and arcs that each of us get invested in, however unwilling we are in some cases.
Because even before we meet Jack Black’s sleazy hustler Carl Denham, a movie director on the outs who is a far cry from the celebrated colonial adventurer he originated from, we see the beauty who will enchant the beast: Ann Darrow, played by the always incomparable Naomi Watts. Ann is a vaudeville actress of many skills who is nonetheless struggling in the midst of a time often defined by struggle, as the movie reminds us with its opening scenes of evictions, protests, poverty, and references to the food kitchens of the Depression. She is the damsel we want to save, and in both versions she is desperate enough to allow Denham to persuade her to accompany him for the picture he intends to film on a long-lost tropical island.
Ann is also the movie’s heart, and while we would no doubt be thrilled and frightened for her as she is caught up in the middle of an exotic adventure with not only the massive Kong (brought to thrilling motion capture life by the now legendary Andy Serkis), but multiple predatory dinosaurs, insects, and other jungle denizens. Watching Ann use her vaudeville skills to bond with her massive ape companion and eventually refuse to comply with his demeaning demands is no small feat either. Her and Kong’s time together isn’t a barely concealed metaphor for fears of Black sexuality like it is in the original (along with the near constant references to sexual danger), it becomes a touching friendship, with Kong seeing himself as Ann’s guardian and protector, even from her own kind.
And he knows when he has competition. Rather than an emotionally repressed, misogynistic sailor, Jackson gives Ann a very modern love interest in the form of playwright Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody). He’s the writer who nonetheless has an adventurer in him, not only earning the honor of being the sole person to bring Ann home, he gets to be in the recreation of the lost spider pit scene. And he gets to be the one to distract Kong when the humans are dumb enough to try to make him a spectacle in New York City.
Jackson’s King Kong condemns the more troubling themes of the original with the reimagining of Jack Black’s Carl Denhma, a sleazy movie director.
B-movie pictures tend to have B-movie values, and a genre which often aims to give audiences what they want (for better and for worse) is often an unwitting display of how far we have and haven’t come. The effects may be far more spectacular in 2005, but there’s still undercurrents of racism, and a violent end awaiting Kong, although this one is at least far more of a condemnation of the society that set it all in motion.
And there’s still The Blonde. In the original, she was The Damsel, in 2005, she is The Girl. Sure, they may both be the ingenue, but there’s a fine line. Then again, what else would Naomi Watts be? Certainly not a wilting violet — no offense to Fay Wray, who not only gives a great performance, but becomes one of cinema’s greatest and earliest scream queens.
The result was money, fame, and the kind of pop cultural dominance studios swoon over. No wonder Kong has been tearing it up on screens ever since, along with a slew of imitators (2018’s Rampage being one of the more memorable knockoffs). Other monsters have also remained a steady presence, with the one who would become Kong’s cinematic nemesis, Godzilla, looming particularly large. But B movie grandeur never seems to get old.
