Originally published on Facebook 8 October 2010.
The 1976 version of KING KONG is justifiably derided as possessing a vast magic-deficit compared to the 1933 original; I think it’s easily the worst of the three versions (and while I know many of you hate Peter Jackson’s 2006 remake, please shut up; I’ve had that argument too many times).
It is, I say parenthetically, not completely devoid of interesting innovations. The one great scene that appears in neither of the others is one involving the captive Kong languishing in …darkness at the bottom of an emptied chamber on an oil tanker; it reeks of pathos, and for the first time renders explicit the oft-discussed (and I think otherwise imaginary) subtext of Kong as emblem of the slave experience in America. There is also a nice scene from the island where Kong blow-dries his blonde object of lust, Dwan, after permitting her to take a bath.
Those are two great scenes, I think.
Beyond that: feh.
And still. I re-watched it recently for the first time in more than thirty years (!), and discovered another implication, unintended at the time.
Jeff Bridges plays the hero, Jack Prescott, a long-haired, bearded, stridently liberal environmentalist who loathes the villainous oil company that captures Kong. Unlike the hero of the first film, he passionately argues to leave Kong behind on the island, not because Kong’s dangerous but because Kong’s an animal and imprisoning this one-of-a-kind creature would be cruel. Although he rescues Dwan on the island, he is utterly ineffectual when it comes to protecting her in Manhattan and does not ultimately get the girl; he recognizes that she’s a fame whore, and is last seen NOT comforting her as she stands at Kong’s fallen body, sobbing hysterically but unwilling to leave the company of news photographers.
He fails completely. And unlike the heroes of both the original film and the Peter Jackson remake, he seems to know it.
What’s more, he has already been threatened by the oil company with the destruction of his career if he doesn’t play ball.
So. Let us assume he is shattered by what happens. He stops fighting. He falls prey to apathy. He becomes a shoulder-shrugger, a one-time activist who now cares about nothing but getting through the day. Maybe he even changes his name, to avoid all the people who keep coming after him, wanting a piece of his story.
Let us even assume that he descends into substance abuse and that twenty years later, high all the time, he’s become a little stupid.
And now let’s check in on him at the time of the first Gulf War.
That’s right.
He’s become…the Dude.