Peter Jackson’s King Kong – the Story of the Greatest Remake of All Time

“We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember because we were travelling in the night of first ages, of those ages that are gone, leaving hardly a sign and no memories. We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there - there you could look at a thing monstrous and free.” –Hayes (from Peter Jackson’s King Kong), quoting from Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness

The 2000s perhaps more than any other decade in film and television history had been characterised by remakes, reboots and so-called “reimaginings” of pre-existing material. This is a trend that, if anything, seems to have increased exponentially to the present, as Hollywood experiences an apparent dearth of original concepts. However, amongst all the uninspired and lazy cash-ins – the Star Trek Into Darknesses and the Wicker Mans (Men?), there a few gems – remakes that truly add something new and expand on the source material whilst remaining faithful to the original’s spirit. Of these, perhaps none shines more brightly than long time Kong fan Peter Jackson’s take on the classic 1933 tale of the giant ape.

We all know the story of King Kong – an ambitious filmmaker by the name of Carl Denham recruits out-of-work actress Ann Darrow (“Dwan” in the naff 1976 version, but let’s forget that one exists) and travels to the lost world of Skull Island, brimming with prehistoric life. There, a giant ape known to the natives as ‘Kong’ makes a strange connection with Ann, which eventually leads to his downfall when he is captured and taken back to New York City. Director Merian C. Cooper and his crew deserve enormous credit for turning what could have been a generic, cheesy and obviously low-budget monster thriller into a visually-stunning glimpse into another world, and for creating one of the most enduring and iconic cinematic monsters ever made. Whereas movie monsters in general tended to be one-note beasts with only simple bloodlust or anger motivating them, Kong gave us a more complex character. He got confused at times, he made mistakes, and his stop-motion face (the work of legendary animator Willis O’Brien) expressed a range of emotions, albeit somewhat simplistic. He wasn't evil, just misunderstood, which was very unusual for a monster movie at the time. The original King Kong rightly deserves its place in history as a landmark film for these reasons and more.

Proof that we all get grumpy as we get older

The reason why I have put forth Jackson’s 2005 version of Kong as the ultimate example of a remake done right is that all these elements which made the original film great are present, but amped up to 20. The hint of a soul that audiences caught a glimpse of in the original Kong’s innocent eyes is transformed by the genius of Andy Serkis, the actor and motion capture veteran best known for later bringing Gollum to life in Jackson’s own The Lord of the Rings Trilogy. Serkis famously travelled to Rwanda to be amongst mountain gorillas to prepare for the role, and it shows. This Kong is a living, breathing being, who feels every bit as real as the gorillas Serkis spent time with. We feel the aching loneliness and isolation of the ape’s savage world as he gazes out at the sunset with Ann from atop his island kingdom. We laugh with him at Ann’s increasingly desperate attempts to entertain him, and feel his desperate defiance as he faces down the planes that will seal his fate. All this is made even more effective by the incredible soundtrack by James Newton Howard. For me at least, music can often be one of the most stand-out and memorable features of a film, TV show or game, and here it’s no exception. Everything is brought to life here, musically speaking – from the swagger and bustle of the Big Apple to the primal, demonic bloodlust of the Skull Islanders as their fiery display lights up the sky. Of course, the CGI effects, impressive even ten years later, also visually flesh out Kong and Ann’s worlds, adding real depth and spectacle to the proceedings.

The role of Ann Darrow and her connection with Kong is also so much more complex. In the original film, Ann seemed to be restricted very much to the role of a victim – an unwilling, shrieking prize for the giant ape. In this version however, we see a real, organic bond develop over the course of the film between the two. Both characters are lonely and desperate inhabitants of a cruel, doomed world. The Great Depression cuts as deep as the mighty V-Rex’s fangs and claws. Both yearn for companionship (not necessarily of a romantic sort) and find in the other a kindred spirit. Ann is the only person able to look past the monstrous, brutish exterior of Kong and relate to him on a deeper level. This is the emotional depth and soul that Peter Jackson’s film imbues the story with, whilst staying true to what made the original film work.

That is not to say that the other characters don’t stand out. Much criticism has been levied against Jack Black’s portrayal of Carl Denham. Admittedly, this was one of the more radical changes from the original film, in which Carl was a more straightforward, almost heroic figure. However, Black imbues the film with some much needed humour without going over the top, and makes Denham a more interesting character – a reckless, ambitious and passionate entrepreneur with shades of Walt Disney and Ed Wood. Adrian Brody gives a very understated performance, which I felt was perhaps a slight weakness of the film, but it’s refreshing to see a male protagonist played by someone other than a chiselled beefcake Schwarzenegger/Pitt type for a change. The other character who really stood out was Hayes, played by Evan Parke, who lent the film gravitas with his morose gaze and mentorship of the wayward Jimmy. Ultimately though, this film keeps the focus right where it should be – on the giant ape and the out-of-work actress.

I think, to sum up, I couldn’t put in any better than this quote from the companion book Kong: A Natural History of Skull Island – “Tiny humans, one in particular, came as invaders to his domain and utterly changed him forever. Kong died not in some battle for supremacy against the monsters of his savage kingdom but far away, struggling to be anything but alone again.”

Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes - LOST, But Not Forgotten

 My favourite TV show (namely, Ashes to Ashes) is one that something I reference a lot, provoking the usual reaction: “What’s that?” In fact, I can bet that you had the exact same reaction when you read the title of this article. And that shouldn’t be, my wonderful reader. Let me explain why.

For those of you wondering (that is, pretty much everyone), Life on Mars is a BBC series that aired way back in 2006 and starred John ‘The Master’ Simm. Simm plays DCI Sam Tyler, a modern police officer in Manchester who is hit by a car and wakes up in 1973, sporting a ridiculously-oversized collar and cool leather jacket. Soon, he meets his new team, led by DCI Gene Hunt - “the Guv” – a bullish, wisecracking trench-coat wearer and Western fan. Also on the team are the antagonistic, grumpy DC Ray Carling, the dim-witted but loveable DC Skelton and the down-to-earth WPC Annie Cartwright. Sam is driven to find out why he’s in the 1970s, and ultimately find a way home.

Crap, I knew I shouldn't have pissed off the Time Lords...

Now, to some of the readers from the US, this may sound familiar, as there was an American version of Life on Mars made two years later with more or less the same premise. But what I really want to talk about is Ashes to Ashes, the follow-up/continuation of Life on Mars and in opinion, the superior show. Ashes to Ashes is a similar premise, this time about a female police officer (DI Alex Drake) played by Keeley Hawes, who wakes up in 1981 after being shot. Not only does she have to work out how to get home, she also has to solve the mystery of her parents’ violent death in an exploding car. The Spock-and-Kirk dynamic of Sam and Gene is replaced by the equally compelling love-hate passion between Gene and Alex.                                                             

"You and me, Bolly. You and me."

You might be asking at this point “What’s so great about those shows? They’re just Lost, but British, right?” But they are so much more; as fantastic as that show is too. I’ve heard them compared, but I haven’t yet finished Lost (word to the wise – if you see me around, please don’t spoil it!), so I can’t vouch for that. But if you enjoyed Lost, you’ll most likely eat up Life on Mars and Ashes to Ashes too. In all three shows, the protagonist(s) with a traumatic past, is suddenly and violently thrown into a strange, completely alien world, and has to not only learn to survive, but how to return home. But Life on Mars and its successor immerse you in a world of the past, and world that was real, and yet at the same time, completely unrecognisable. The 1973 of Life on Mars is a dusky, sepia-toned world of violence, cigarette smoke and cobbled streets, while the 1980s of Ashes to Ashes is a riot of colour, bursting at the seams with gaudy clothes, surreal music and retro tech. Not only that, but these are shows that defy genre, almost always the mark of something special. It’s a cop show. No wait, it’s sci-fi. Actually no, it’s period drama. One moment, Gene and Alex could be working undercover to thwart police corruption. The next, we’d see flashbacks of Alex’s past and then be confronted by a creepy ghost with half a face or a terrifying white Pierrot clown.

"WE ARE WAITING FOR YOU, ALEX..."

Furthermore, like any good drama, the characters grow and develop organically through the years, and we follow their journeys. Chris and Shaz’s dysfunctional romance blossoming; Ray’s self-doubt and bitterness gives way to hope; Gene’s … no, that would be a spoiler. All this with the added bonus of a plethora of great songs from the 1970s and 1980s, Gene’s witty, non-PC one-liners, and some clever crime stories, and you have a sure underground hit. If nothing else, the fact that someone my age can enjoy the shows, without having any nostalgia from those eras to lean on should demonstrate their quality. Now go give them a try, or I’ll come round yer ‘ouses and stamp on all yer toys…

“He’s got more fingers in pies than a leper on a cookery course!”

Zack Snyder, the Homogenisation of Superheroes, and Lex Luthor's Social Network

What are you doing, DC? That might as well be the whole review, and you might as well stop reading now. Just what the heck are you DOING? Sorry, I'm getting ahead of myself, so I’ll calm down and start again.

When Christopher Nolan reinvigorated Batman as a cinematic experience in 2005 with Batman Begins (after the dismal, dreadful death-knoll that was 1997’s Batman & Robin), he set a new standard for superhero films. Like it or not, Nolan’s “Dark Knight Trilogy” (Batman Begins, The Dark Knight, The Dark Knight Rises) changed the way that the public viewed superheroes, which had long since begun to seem stale, predictable and just plain silly, thanks in no small part to campy, ridiculously-written bombs such as the aforementioned Batman & Robin, Superman IV: The Quest for Peace, and (lest I come across as too harsh on DC) Daredevil. Nolan helped to make Joe Average take superheroes seriously again. No longer was Batman a rubber-nippled, grinning George Clooney cracking Adam West-style puns and saving the day by ice skating. The new Batman, played by Christian Bale, was a deadly serious, grim vigilante caught up in stories involving mob bosses, political corruption and gritty violence. Oh, and death. Lots and lots of death. The colours were muted, and Batman’s suit was now more a suit of armour than anything else. Yes, there was some-seemingly-ludicrous casting in the form of Heath Ledger’s Joker (and, one might argue, Christian Bale’s Batman), but it paid off, and the films were hugely successful. But what price have we paid for that success?

Nowadays, you can’t move for superhero films and television shows. There’s the new Amazing Spider-Man series, the Avengers and its related films, Snyder’s retelling of Superman in The Man of Steel, and the continuing X-Men spin-offs and instalments, and many more. Across most of these releases, however, there is a very clear trend, one kick-started by Nolan’s success with Batman. Superheroes in the modern era are dark, brooding loners with muted and streamlined costumes. Even usually-colourful and cheerful heroes like Spider-Man are now the misunderstood, tragic outsiders, often directly or indirectly causing death on a huge scale. Nowhere is this more obvious than with Zack Snyder’s Man of Steel.

Superman has always been a bright, colourful, extroverted optimist, a shining, easily-visible beacon of hope to contrast with Batman’s dark, silent image of fear and vengeance. He dealt with death, yes, but he rarely, if ever, directly caused it, and he always put the safety of Metropolis (and Earth) first. Not so in Man of Steel. Henry Cavill’s Superman is a grim figure, swamped with troubling flashbacks and insecurities, and sporting an extremely dark costume, with the signature red and blue barely visible. Now, these traits are fine for Batman, as they suit his character, not to mention, bats in general. This is barely recognisable as Superman, if not for the coiffed hair and costume details. In fact, I’d go as far as to say that Nolan’s Batman and Snyder’s Superman are almost interchangeable (Nostalgia Critic brilliantly pointed out all the similarities in the beginning of his Man of Steel review). And it’s getting worse.

Like most of us, you probably have seen and read all the news about the upcoming sequel to Man of Steel, Batman V Superman: Dawn of Justice, rushed by DC to compete with The Avengers. To the sound of barely concealed disbelief around the world, Ben Affleck has been cast as Batman, Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, and (sigh..) Jesse Eisenberg as Lex Luthor. We’ve even been treated to photos of Affleck and Gadot in costume. Now, while I'm personally optimistic about Affleck and the new Batman, I immediately took a disliking to the new Wonder Woman costume.

Notice something familiar? Once clearly-identifiable colours and patterns have been replaced by dark, extremely muted tones and a generic “gritty” appearance. In fact, Gadot is barely recognisable as Wonder Woman, and bears more of a resemblance to Xena, Warrior Princess (as many fans have pointed out). You can also bet that she too will be a dark, serious and brooding character, eliminating all individuality that Wonder Woman had, and making her another analogue of Bale’s Batman. This trend of superhero homogenisation is clear, and I for one wish it would stop.

Zack Snyder has developed a clear strategy to distract the viewing public from the ever-increasing blandness of these reinvented characters, and one that is again inspired by Nolan’s Dark Knight Trilogy – the power of ridiculous casting. As I mentioned earlier, few people (no matter what they say now) first approved of the unusual casting of Heath Ledger, chiselled, foppish star of films such as Brokeback Mountain as the Joker, but to everyone’s surprise, the gambit paid off, and Ledger posthumously became one of the most successful iterations of the character (my personal opinion on it aside). By casting Jesse Eisenberg, Gal Gadot and Ben Affleck (three of the last actors you would think of for the roles in question), Zack Snyder clearly hopes to replicate that success story, that lightning in a bottle chance. In my view, it’s also an obvious ploy to garner attention for the film, generate discussion and distract from the potential shallowness of the content.

So, what’s the solution? Well, for good examples of how to get it right (Snyder, I hope you’re reading this!), I would submit the CW television series Arrow, the recent Avengers film, and the first two Batman Arkham games. All of these managed to successfully walk the mid-ground between staying true to the comic origins and essence of the characters while still keeping enough of the grit, darkness and realism to avoid campy excess. It comes down to this – when I look at Stephen Amell’s Green Arrow, or Kevin Conroy’s Batman, I see those characters, sprung to life from the comics I adore, with some slight differences. When I look at Gal Gadot as Wonder Woman, I see Gadot in a bad cosplay outfit. Not all superheroes have to be dark and brooding, because that’s not their characters and variety is the spice of life. Case closed.