fangirlish glee, teehee!

News from the front, people! King Kong not only rocks, it shambles, lopes, swings from trees, beats its big ape chest and bellows. It's a great, hairy, galloping, excessive B-movie, made with love, respect and a wonderful attention to detail; and if you can't get away with excess in a B-movie homage, when the hell can you? And, in sharp contrast to most of the reviewers, I didn't have a problem with the length; it has a script good enough and pacing well-judged enough that three hours doesn't feel like it.* Peter Jackson is god. Well, a god. A sort of hobbitish, much-thinner-than-he was, bespectacled geek god. Much indepth analysis, with spoilers, follows. ( Kong is King! )

* except for the tight bladder, which is fast becoming the main problem I have with really long movies. Goblet of Fire's epic Voldemort confrontation somehow fails to grip when you really need to go to the loo.