Even for free, Peter Jackson’s KING KONG isn’t worth the admission price.
Jackson could easily cut an hour-and-a-half from this movie — and, in doing so, perform a service for all of mankind. But I suspect that even at half the running time, KING KONG would still be an insanely dull and pointless remake (seven hours into the movie, my daughter leaned over to me and asked "Are we there yet?").
The special effects are amazing, I will give Jackson that, but no amount of CGI wizardry can make up for the failings of the story, dialogue and characters. All the actors, particularly Jack Black, seem completely lost, unsure what they are supposed to be playing. But you can’t really blame the actors. You have to blame the writer/director. The characters aren’t nearly as fleshed out, interesting, or believable as the CGI monsters. At least you understand why the dinosaurs and insects are doing what they’re doing. During the ordeal, I also wondered about my own motivation — what the hell was I still doing in the theater? But against all my better judgment, and the pleading of my loved ones, I stayed. I endured.
The movie isn’t even good enough to wow a ten-year-old. I know, because my ten-year-old told me so.
"Spongebob Squarepants is a lot more fun," she said as we finally fled the theater, "and shorter, too."