After even more interminable Jurassic Park-lite scenes involving Kong fighting (and fighting, and fighting) with dinosaurs, and Gollum (Andy Serkis) being attacked by giant bugs, Kong and Ann fall in love. After a bunch of interminable scenes on a boat involving instantly forgettable supporting characters, the crew is captured by a village of savages, with Ann being served as the main course for Kong. Along for the ride is Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody), who is in love with Ann, but she has another, slightly more rotund suitor waiting for her on the island.

Lovelorn and desperate for big-screen stardom, she hooks up with shady filmmaker Carl Denham (Jack Black), who whisks her and a makeshift crew off to a remote island, in the hopes of capturing 'exotic' footage for a new potboiler. The story: Ann Darrow (Watts) is a struggling B-movie actress in 1920s America. Painfully overlong, horribly structured, badly cast, and containing some of the worst CGI I've ever seen, I couldn't wait for Kong to finally fall off the top of that stupid building and crush Naomi Watts along with him, just so the whole dumb thing would be over with. Because I hated this heartfelt if woefully miscalculated would-be blockbuster. So if you like this movie, skip right on down to the technical portions of this review. And nothing I can say will likely change anyone's mind. Sure, the film wasn't quite the gargantuan box office hit predicted, but the faithful still bent over backwards trying to downplay the film's faults and over-inflate its positives. So, to not like Kong is almost heretical. Thanks to the Ringsphenomenon, Peter Jackson is Hollywood's new heir apparent to Steven Spielberg, George Lucas, and James Cameron all rolled into one. So it goes with King Kong, a film beloved before it even hit cinemas. So it is with great trepidation I go into any review of a film that has a sizable and vocal fanbase. God forbid you spit on someone's favorite classic - in my day, I've gotten my fair share of hate mail, from the mundane (one reader actually sent me a rotted pumpkin in the mail for failing to find Halloween III an undiscovered masterpiece) to the near-psychotic (I had to change my email address - twice - after an irate veteran apparently didn't like my trashing of Pearl Harbor and predicted I might suffer a premature demise). You never know who is out there, reading what you've written, and waiting to take revenge. Being a movie reviewer can be dangerous work.

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