What Was The Last Movie You Watched?

[Harp]

??? Anyone seen The Time Traveler's Wife???

Came across this several days ago and though evident chick flick fluff; still had some
speed pitch to it, yet not quite enough to touch wallet.
Any thoughts, opinions, whatever would be appreciated.

 

[lee-nus]

Heart of the Beast. I am not okay.

 

[Fading Fast]

??? Anyone seen The Time Traveler's Wife???

Came across this several days ago and though evident chick flick fluff; still had some
speed pitch to it, yet not quite enough to touch wallet.
Any thoughts, opinions, whatever would be appreciated.

I read the book when it came out - chick lit is harsh but reasonably fair – but never saw the movie.

If you're looking for a movie right now, I'm only about half way into it, but "Seven Days to Noon" (not "Seven Days in May" also an excellent movie) from 1950 is very good so far and very much a movie I think you'd like. Here's the IMDb page on it:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042949/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_8_nm_0_in_0_q_seven days to noon

 

[Doctor Strange]

I saw The Time Traveler's Wife theatrically when it first came out, and many times since, and have the DVD.

I really like it, and I think it's a great example of an "SF chick flick" - that is, it has no interest in explaining why Henry time travels via technobabble, it's only concerned with how his condition impacts his life and loves. I'd read the novel before the film opened, and I think it's an example of a VERY GOOD adaptation of an "impossible to adapt" book.

Yeah, it leaves out some squicky parts (e.g., where Henry and earlier/later versions of himself get freaky together), but it doesn't lose anything truly important. Eric Bana, Rachel McAdams, Ron Livingston, and the rest of the cast are excellent.

(Hey, what is it with Rachel McAdams and time-traveling boyfriends?!? See also Doctor Strange, About Time, and Midnight In Paris!)



HBO attempted a series adaptation a couple of years ago with Rose Leslie and Theo James, but they canceled it after the first season, only the first act of the story. It included the squicky parts (after all, it's HBO!), but other than the longer runtime and more elaborate special effects, it was NOT a better adaptation.

 

[Harp]

I read the book when it came out - chick lit is harsh but reasonably fair – but never saw the movie.

If you're looking for a movie right now, I'm only about half way into it, but "Seven Days to Noon" (not "Seven Days in May" also an excellent movie) from 1950 is very good so far and very much a movie I think you'd like. Here's the IMDb page on it:

https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0042949/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0_tt_8_nm_0_in_0_q_seven days to noon

Thanks for the tip. Sounds a British kitchen purse strings pulled taut closed caser.
Excellent drama boxed, wrapped, and bow approach but last nite for some inexplicable,
a movie was out for current event news focus.

 

[Harp]

I saw The Time Traveler's Wife theatrically when it first came out, and many times since, and have the DVD.

I really like it, and I think it's a great example of an "SF chick flick" - that is, it has no interest in explaining why Henry time travels via technobabble, it's only concerned with how his condition impacts his life and loves. I'd read the novel before the film opened, and I think it's an example of a VERY GOOD adaptation of an "impossible to adapt" book.

Yeah, it leaves out some squicky parts (e.g., where Henry and earlier/later versions of himself get freaky together), but it doesn't lose anything truly important. Eric Bana, Rachel McAdams, Ron Livingston, and the rest of the cast are excellent.

(Hey, what is it with Rachel McAdams and time-traveling boyfriends?!? See also Doctor Strange, About Time, and Midnight In Paris!)

View attachment 814350

HBO attempted a series adaptation a couple of years ago with Rose Leslie and Theo James, but they canceled it after the first season, only the first act of the story. It included the squicky parts (after all, it's HBO!), but other than the longer runtime and more elaborate special effects, it was NOT a better adaptation.

Its trailer definitely reached out and touched my heart; however other scenes involving
his lack of control over process and more or less forced disappearance gave pause.
Seemed a gimmick studio seized upon for a Hallmark romcom. There's another time travel
series done some time ago centered Scotland and colonial/modern Boston which I really fell hard for.... Until a scene where the guy fainted. Basic held truth with me is that physics aside,
man-woman relations involve intrinsic truths divorced time travel. And studio liberals tend to
over involve their beliefs in the production. So, I was at some loss. Thanks for your post.

 

[Fading Fast]

Underworld Informers (1963) with Nigel Patrick, Margaret Whiting, and Katherine Woodville


"Let's see, what do we have to do now that the war is over? Tidy up after losing the empire – check. Take a run at socialism – check. Create the world's most famous fictional spy – check. Oh, and produce incredibly smart and engaging black-and-white movies – double check."

Underworld Informers is right in the sweet spot of postwar British movies: a small-budget, gorgeous black-and-white film, with talented actors, an engaging story, and complex characters more than making up for that small budget and, naturally, few special effects.

To that latter point, British cinema turned a limitation into an advantage as it couldn't fall back on wowing its viewers with Hollywood-style whizbang action scenes, so it needed to tell good stories with characters you care about: It had to double down on storytelling.

Nigel Patrick here plays a Scotland Yard Chief Inspector (an entire book could be written on the complexity and, often, pomposity of British government titles in this era) who "works the street" by staying close to informants (who get paid) and following leads the old-fashioned way.

Except now that a gang has pulled off a series of bank robberies and the police haven't made any arrests, his boss – getting ripped from above – issues an edict: No more paying informants; we'll become a "scientific department" using technology like wiretapping to aid us in our jobs.

Old dogs, new tricks, and all that see Patrick unwilling to give up his established "contacts," so he goes on investigating his way despite his orders – not very British, but we understand it. The movie proceeds to take us on a trip through London's seedy underground criminal network.

Director Ken Annakin creates a noirish version of London populated by criminals, rival gangs, and way too many hangers-on who will gladly rat on each other for a fee. Women orbit all this mainly looking for rich men to buy them stuff – sorry, but that's how it is presented.

Keeping track of all the bad guys – and their hierarchy – is a bit confusing, but after a while, you get the overall feel of this nasty lot, and it is a nasty lot. The story pivots around one of Patrick's informers, played by John Cowley, who is murdered by the gang for "snouting" (informing).

The gang then frames Patrick for taking a bribe, which results in his suspension. Now rogue, Patrick takes the gloves off a bit and goes deeper into the underworld to clear his name and solve the crime. It's an early and modest version of the rogue-cop movies to come.

It's sad to see the coldness of Patrick's boss and the barely controlled glee of one of his peers, but Patrick was a star inspector, which in the real world breeds resentment, something rarely shown in police departments in this era. It's visceral, nuanced, and well-done writing and acting.

Keep your eye on Margaret Whiting, too, playing a woman ensnared in the underworld because she needs money for her illegitimate son, which most likely was fathered by one of the men who abuse her. To be sure, her character is no angel, but her acting here is outstanding.

Watch for the scene where she is "convinced" to participate in the frame-up of Patrick to witness a woman pushed to the extreme who then abjectly capitulates: It is acting and storytelling at their best. It's so good that you are exhausted for her when it is over.

You'll also be exhausted for Patrick, who goes through an awful lot in 105 minutes, but thankfully he has a loyal (and quite cute) wife, played by Katherine Woodville, supporting him. Look for the scene where she enters the underworld to get her husband out on bail. What a woman.

She, we assume, has no police training, but plenty of smarts and guts. It's believably gritty and impressive filmmaking. Just like Whiting's scene, these two women are not wallflowers or eye candy like many of the "girls" are in this one.

Eventually it all climaxes with a violent street battle between the rival gangs – make note: You do not want to get hit over the head with a plumber's wrench – with Patrick and the police getting involved as well. It's a bit forced, but still a good climax.

Annakin's cinematic style here is a blend of police drama and British noir, which is right where movies were just before the 1960s cultural shift was about to hit. It's also an incredible time capsule of London in that period, especially with all the on-location shooting.

Underworld Informers is a perfect example of what England's film industry was doing so well after the war: making smart movies, with intelligent stories, complex characters, and engaging images, on small budgets – like what the best independents in the US were doing then.

The movie won't change your life, but it will entertain you and it will give you a nice peek into a different era. How much of it is true? It doesn't matter, as you don't have to be a genius to understand the particular zeitgeist – at that time and place in London – that was captured.

 

[Harp]

I suspect a book founded this film like poured cement for concrete sidewalks; where evidence is scrapped
off piecemeal incrementally.

British noir crashed headfirst into the 1960s littering London streets no end; however,
Sidney Poitier's classic, To Sir, With Love proves exceptional production values existed
well beyond the insipid 007 franchise. If never seen, this film is essential viewing capstone with
legs that travel timely stride yesterday to now. Ironically, Poitier was a Blackboard Jungle alumnus.

 

[Fading Fast]

Immortal Love (1961) A Japanese Film


Immortal Love either was not translated well or is a sarcastic title, as the nearly thirty-year marriage at the center of noted Japanese director Keisuke Kinosh*ta's film – which he also wrote – is a brutally unhappy one that neither spouse is willing to break but should.

You could also interpret the immortal love to be the one that wasn't allowed to flourish, which makes this a very Japanese and Romantic-era movie mashup – which would be a wonderful blending of cultures well before that became an "elite" fashion statement.

In 1932, a young scion, Heibei, returns from fighting in the Sino-Japanese War with a crippling limp, but being the son and heir of a feudal lord, he still commands much respect and deference in the community.

He wants the pretty Sadako, but she is engaged to another villager away fighting in the war. Angry when she rejects him, he r*pes her, gets her pregnant, and even threatens her family with financial ruin if she won't marry him. Rich kids, apparently, can be jerks in every culture.

When Sadako's fiancé, Takashi, returns from the front, she is ashamed but tells him what happened and that she knows he won't want her now. He argues it doesn't really matter, but Heibei threatens Takashi's family with financial ruin as well. These kids don't stand a chance.

Sadako won't marry Takashi and destroy both families, and, needing a husband to explain her pregnancy – while also wanting to protect the families – she gives in and marries Heibei. He, being the spoiled brat that he is, is mad that she doesn't really love him the way she loves Takashi.

It is no surprise that their marriage festers into an ugly three-decade ball of hate, recriminations, horrible parenting, and general misery all around. Sadako always feels distant from the first child (from the r*pe), which only further angers Heibei and batters the child's mental state.

Even their two subsequent children, raised in that poisonous atmosphere, have issues. A lot of hate and spite drives everything, especially when Takashi returns with his wife and Heibei hires them to work in the house for him and Sadako. Good Lord, how much can you despise your wife?

Eventually, right at the end, some truth and honesty spills out, but what is left after almost three decades of bitter recriminations? It's less a climax than a petering out, but still one that you'll want to see fresh.

As all this family dysfunction plays out, Japan, the country itself, goes through monumental changes, including WWII, land reform, and the American occupation. It's a busy three decades.

Kinosh*ta only touches on those changes indirectly by showing how they impact the characters. We don't see the land reform, but learn of it as Heibei's estate is reduced. The post-war American occupation matters only when it affects one of the children.

Kinosh*ta also knows that showing what engenders emotion is what drives good melodrama. When Sadako is r*ped and then must tell her fiancé, we have our present views on that, but you'll fully understand the great shame a woman in her time and place feels.

Watch also for the different scenes when Sadako and, to be fair, Heibei offer a small fig leaf to each other, trying to make their marriage more bearable. Unfortunately, it is always when the other is angry and least open to compromise. Nothing is ever aligned with these two.

The acting is impressive all around, but Sadako, played by Hideko Takamine, carries the heaviest load as it is all the crushing burdens placed on her tiny shoulders that drive the story. Over time, she believably goes from being an upbeat young girl to a sad but wiser older woman.

All this emotional turmoil is shot in black and white on desolate farmland where Heibei's estate is the only house that looks like it could withstand a strong breeze. The bleakness of this place echoes in the long stretches of fallow, flat land.

There's a scene where Sadako is desperately running between two houses attempting a deathbed reconciliation, and the sad, dusty road she travels reflects the futility of her task: what does a deathbed reconciliation really mean anyway? This is not a happy or uplifting movie.

That is, unless you like flamenco music a lot, which, oddly, is featured throughout the soundtrack. It's an involved discussion of how that happened, but you'll either love it or wonder why this beautiful, somber Japanese film has a Spanish style of music. It can be quite jarring.

Immortal Love isn't always easy movie watching, and it doesn't speed by, but its deliberate pace allows for the emotional build it needs, and it is consistently engaging. There is a Japanese David Lean feel to this relationship-driven epic tale.

If you are new to Japanese cinema, there are other movies to start with – perhaps try a film by Yasujirō Ozu – but if you are an old hand or just a bit bold, dive into this Kinosh*ta picture and see what you think.

 

[Harp]

^ Off topic. I've occasionally caught YakTube Shogun snips and looks outstanding production,
with its support character, Lady Mariko breathtakingly splendid.

I read Clavell's Shogun years ago and watched Chamberlain's 1980s take; however this
slice really impresses a more profound Japanese psychological immersive experience.

 

[rickc007]

Heart of the Beast. I am not okay.

Same

 

[Fading Fast]

Loophole (1954) with Barry Sullivan, Charles McGraw, Dorothy Malone, Don Beddoe, and Mary Beth Hughes


If there is a lesson to be learned from Loophole, it is not that you don't want to be falsely accused of a crime – who doesn't know that? – but that you want to marry a woman like Dorothy Malone's character and absolutely not one like Mary Beth Hughes' character.

It all starts, as most noir/crime dramas do, innocently enough, with Barry Sullivan playing a respected head teller and husband, married to (sigh) Malone's character, but then a bank audit by the feds leads to everything going very, very wrong, very, very quickly for Sullivan.

You'd have to be familiar with 1950s banking audit procedures to verify, but presented here – with an introduction saying it is based on a true story – Federal auditors can show up unannounced one morning, show some credentials, and then dig deep into the bank's books.

The auditors, all middle-aged men dressed in suits, ties, and hats – so they all look like boring middle-aged bank auditors – have almost free run of the bank. This is a problem when an "extra" one sneaks himself into the audit and then asks to check Sullivan's "big money" again.

Don Beddoe plays the fake/sc*m auditor. He clears out nearly $50,000, while his accomplice, a quite attractive blonde played by Mary Beth Hughes, distracts Sullivan with a story about wanting to open an account, but she also distracts him with her blonde va-va-voom.

After the bank closes – it's a Friday – Sullivan discovers the missing money (well, actually, he discovers the money is missing) when he tries to balance his accounts. He stays late sweating it as he can't believe it is happening. That is maybe understandable, but it is a huge mistake.

He goes home and tells his wife, Malone, but he doesn't report the money missing until Monday, which in banking land, makes him look guilty as it gives him a few extra days to hide the money. Still, after fifteen years at the bank, his manager believes him, but others don't.

The others initially include the police, but worse, they include an insurance agent (Sullivan is bonded, so the insurance company is on the hook if the money doesn't show up), played by Charles McGraw, who goes full Inspector Javert, turning Sullivan into a Jean Valjean.

The scenes of the police and McGraw aggressively interviewing Sullivan are outstanding "innocent man caught in a vice" sequences. Eventually, the police believe he's innocent, but not McGraw. He's convinced Sullivan is guilty and stays on him mercilessly and relentlessly.

He has Sullivan's bond cancelled, so the bank has to let him go, as no other insurance company would pick him up now. In under a week, Sullivan goes from having a respected position and owning a small home to being unemployed and tainted by rumors.

Sullivan knows he's done in banking, so he tries to get a regular job, any job, but for every one he gets, McGraw shows up hours or days later to tell the new boss what Sullivan supposedly did at his previous job, so Sullivan gets let go. McGraw gives off a nasty Ahab-and-the-whale vibe.

Finally, Sullivan gets a job driving a cab. When McGraw shows up to do his usual passive-aggressive "you just hired a crook" act, the manager, played with full-force confidence by Richard Reeves, fires back, "If you are so sure he stole the money, why don't you arrest him?"

It's nice to see somebody not succumb to McGraw's arrogant bullying. It's also nice to see a smart, supportive wife fight side by side with her husband to survive. Malone is more than ready to step down their nice but modest lifestyle if that's what they have to do.

Amidst all this ugliness, Sullivan slowly realizes he has to do his own investigating to find the real criminal. He discusses it with the police; he looks at mugshots; he also looks at any bank auditor who fits the description, and more – all with McGraw needling him at every turn.

The crooks, Beddoe and Hughes, are now holed up in their small apartment with Hughes browbeating Beddoe: She wants to spend the money and live, but he wants to be very careful. She's viciously pretty; he's bank-examiner boring, and she pushes every one of those buttons.

You start to wonder if s*x with her could be worth it. A few too many coincidences later, Sullivan spots Beddoe and the climax follows: car and foot chases, g*ns brandished and fired, cops called in, and the money changing hands a few times. It's forced but fun.

Sullivan is excellent as the innocent man whose life is ruined, but he lacks something that would make him a true top-tier star like a Robert Mitchum or a Van Heflin. It's hard to pinpoint as it all seems there, yet somehow he's one notch less engaging.

McGraw, however, is not one notch less anything in this one. You are supposed to dislike him and you do, yet somehow he's interesting and not cardboard evil. It says a lot about him as an actor: As much as you like him in The Narrow Margin is how much you dislike him here.

Beddoe is so good, and is probably an actor you aren't familiar with, that you forget he's acting and just want to see him leave Hughes: Give her the money or anything else she wants – just get rid of that giant pile of blonde radioactive waste in your apartment.

Despite having less screen time, Hughes, combined with Malone, almost steals the movie as every scene with one of them ups the energy. Malone brings the character, while Hughes brings almost Biblical-level femme fatale evil.

Watch for the scene when she tells Beddoe she can barely tolerate him with money, and without it, she's gone. My God, man, what more do you need to hear? Apparently some further magical combination of degrading words, as he continues to stick it out.

Shot on location primarily in and around Los Angeles, Loophole is an excellent time capsule of midcentury LA. Everyone dresses; the cars are huge; the bank is a fortress; and the shopping areas are modern, clean, and (honestly) American tacky.

Loophole is an excellent example of what it set out to be: an engaging noir-crime-drama mashup with talented actors, a tense story, and wonderful black-and-white cinematography. It accomplishes its goal without aiming higher – and that's a compliment. Plus: Dorothy Malone.

 

[Harp]

^ Too early and first cup Joseph for review, but Dorothy Malone duly noted.
She had an unmistakable presence with her personality, and her Big Sleep book shop
window sash pulldown Marian-the-librarian strip tease act absolutely nailed it closed.
Such subtlety has been lost these days which is why earlier intelligent film demands viewing.

 

[Fading Fast]

The Reckless Hour (1931) with Dorothy Mackaill, H.B. Warner, Conrad Nagel, and Water Byron


Premarital s*x, a child born out of wedlock, a financial ****, and a daughter offering to prostitute herself to save her bankrupt father all happen in one precode and in just sixty-nine minutes. That's moviemaking ambition, but par for a precode like The Reckless Hour.

Dorothy Mackaill plays the daughter of a kind bookshop owner and a shrewish mother. She meets a rich, young society boy at her job modeling for a swanky New York City fashion shop. Soon they are "dating," but pay attention as she stays in her assigned box in his world.

MacKaill lives a struggling-ish middle-class life at home; yet with the rich boy, played by Walter Byron, she's swimming in champagne. She pushes to meet his family; he evades; she gets "in trouble;" there's a big showdown at his house; and she shows more character than Byron.

Her father, too, shows character by quietly helping his daughter through what, in that day, was an embarrassing event by sending her to a "rest home." After that's over, she's back with the family, with mom still carping, and her kid sister, played by Joan Blondell, dating a local boy.

Soon MacKaill is back in New York, this time working as a model for a painter, played by Conrad Nagel. If ever a legitimate work setup by chance mimicked foreplay, it's modeling for an artist in his home studio. It's s*x without int*rcourse.

Mackaill, though, has been burned once and has no interest in going down that road again. Nagel, who seems genuinely nice, never lies about being married, but, as they said then, he is estranged from his wife. He can't offer Mackaill marriage, but he's not deceiving her.

The last wrinkle, which is the catalyst for the rapid-fire Act III, is Papa Mackaill facing bankruptcy from having borrowed heavily to fund Mackaill's rest-home stay. The busy climactic scene feels like a play – a bunch of people in one room talking – which the movie was based on after all.

You can add Mackaill's name to that long list of pretty blonde actresses who starred in several precode movies and then just faded from the screen. She has a low-energy style of acting, but the camera likes her, and you want to watch her.

Her father, played by H. B. Warner, is the quiet second star of the movie as he – with his wife always nagging him – tries to keep his honor and dignity while parenting two adult daughters in the Depression. Many in the audience could relate.

Blondell, on the brink of stardom, stands out. Her on-screen personality gives off sparks, where Mackaill's acting absorbs energy. It's easy to anticipate Blondell's future stardom.

Byron, conversely, looks like the bland handsome rich kid he plays here. It feels like he's an average theater actor who made a wrong turn and wound up in Hollywood.

Give Conrad Nagel credit, though, as he, like Blondell, elevates his scenes up even when the dialogue is flat, which it is at times. If you were picking future stars, you'd have gone one for two in this one: "Always knew Blondell was going places but made the wrong call on Nagel."

Filmed on sets and with early talkie technology, the movie is reasonably fluid compared to many from this era, but Warner Bros., like MGM, was always a few steps ahead of the other studios. Still, don't expect the seamlessness of a modern picture or even one from the mid-1930s.

Depression-era Hollywood was chockablock with these melodramatic tales of class prejudice, young girls "getting in trouble," and family members making desperate gambles to "save" each other – medical bills were another big challenge that often bankrupted families.

Today, marriage is optional for women, even if they want children, and dating between the classes is more common, but these were meaningful issues in the 1930s, which drove stories like this one to the big screen.

The Reckless Hour is average overall, but it is lifted up by a few good performances and plot twists. It also stands as a stake in the ground saying forever: these issues were real to us and here's one way we faced them. It's another small slice of historical culture captured on screen.

 

[Worf]

"Disclosure Day" - With no series left to watch. Puddin and I took a flyer on Mr. Spielberg's latest foray into Science Fiction. Plainly stated, probably the worst film he's ever done, and that includes 1941. Malevolent government henchmen so blind they can neither see nor hear their quarry when he's 3 feet behind them. Logic has no home here and I won't even begin to discuss it's "Soprano's" like ending. Pheh! I want my 2 hours back!!!!!

Worf

 

[Worf]

View attachment 813586
King Kong (1933) with Fay Wray, Robert Armstrong, and Bruce Cabot


They got two big things so right in King Kong that, even with its 1933 challenges, the movie has held up incredibly well. First, it is a darn good action-adventure story that rips along, and second, the actively promoted and well-done beauty-and-the-beast metaphor is timeless.

It's fast paced out of the gate, with Robert Armstrong playing an action-adventure movie director pushing everyone to get on his mystery ship while he continues to look for a woman to play the lead. We, though, can only wonder, along with everyone, where the New York ship is going.

Armstrong pulls Fay Wray's character out of the Bowery, another hungry person in the Depression, and takes her along on his destination-unknown trip. Even the captain doesn't know the destination, which Armstrong only reveals when the ship gets to tropical waters.

The destination, a fog-shrouded, uncharted "Skull Island," is populated by a native tribe separated from a mysterious beast by a huge wall spanning the width of the island. Armstrong's plan seems to be to shoot his movie on the beast's side of the wall.

Having not signed his Screen Actors Guild card, though, the beast – King Kong – doesn't play along and takes Wray captive, which has the ship's laconic first mate, played by Bruce Cabot, lead a search and rescue party into an early version of Jurassic Park.

Kong now has Wray, but to keep her, he has to fight off several prehistoric-looking beasts, including a ferocious bird, a massive snake, and what looks like a T-Rex. It's one exhausting day, but a man must protect his woman, or here, his tiny, pretty, blonde human captive.

The brilliance of directors Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack is that despite the fact that Kong has taken Wray against her will, our sympathies are all with Kong as he battles these frightening creatures to the death. It's like an early b*stial Stockholm syndrome.

This incredible sequence – the heart and soul of the movie – also has some suggestive shots of Kong undr*ssing Wray and then smelling his fingers – it's not subtle – and Wray all but flashing her br*ast in a water scene. Interpret it as you will; the s*xual overtones are there.

Wray survives – Cabot helps rescue her; Armstrong captures Kong; and soon we're on Broadway with Armstrong promoting "King Kong – The Eighth Wonder of the World" to an audience of society swells with Kong in "chrome steel" chains. Again, you feel bad for Kong.

The next is a spoiler alert if you somehow don't know the movie ends with Kong, having taken Wray captive again, atop the Empire State Building, being attacked by biplanes. Your heart is breaking as the confused beast tries to fight off the fast-moving, machine-g*nning planes.

As Kong's giant, b*llet-riddled body tumbles from the top of the skyscraper to its death in a darn good special effects scene for 1933, you again feel demoralized that this disoriented giant ape had his life destroyed for no real reason other than Armstrong's greedy showmanship.

Fay Wray, with no prior actress having been in such a role to use as a model, defined the "scream queen" character for generations to come. More importantly, she gave her character, and by proxy the Kong character, an emotional depth that makes the movie timeless, not campy.

Armstrong and Cabot both have a dated style of acting, but still, there's enough complexity and emotion in their performances to connect to modern audiences willing to approach King Kong on its terms. But in truth, they don't matter as no one in this movie matters but Wray and Kong.

Even though Cabot evolved from a "no women belong on a ship" guy to "my, isn't Ms. Wray a wonderful woman (but I won't say that aloud)" guy, and she falls for him, you won't really care, as this is, again, the Wray-Kong show.

So what about Kong – effectively, a giant puppet – himself? Kudos to the special effects men Willis O'Brien and Marcel Delgado for their innovative work making you weep for the often violent beast. His facial expressions convey a confusion and sadness that are heartbreaking.

The obvious metaphor the movie promotes is beauty and the beast. Kong sees "beauty" and wants her, but "beauty" is repulsed by his "beastliness." What is writ large here on screen is also writ small in almost everyone's life: who, at some point, hasn't felt that they were the beast?

You can also see the movie as a parable for Hollywood greed – Armstrong is counting box office receipts the first night – as his "star attraction" is held in chains against his will, almost like, hmm, a seven-year studio contract that bound an actor to the company.

You can also see the movie as a parable for man's arrogance toward nature, like taking an animal off his native island for profit and amusement. And those two examples are just the most obvious metaphors after beauty and the beast.

King Kong, at its core, is a good old-fashioned action-adventure movie that still works as an engaging story, again, for someone willing to bend a little to 1933 movie style. But it is also the fountainhead of so many movies to come that you'll be a bit awed by its originality.

The beauty and the beast story, of course, didn't begin with Kong; heck, the outstanding 1931 Frankenstein has echoes of it, but so many quintessential movie images and tropes started with King Kong that seeing it is like looking at a piece of iconic movie history.

View attachment 813589 View attachment 813588

Funny thing about this movie and the final take by Jackson... There's a panoramic shot in both films where a power plant with 3 smokestacks is seen in the distance... That building is Con Edison's "East River" power station. Late in my professional career I monitored it's final restoration. It started out being coal fired, switched to bunker fuel and we were finally converting it to natural gas before my retirement. I was stunned to see it in both films. It's also one of the last if not the last power plant in NY City using its excess steam to heat surrounding buildings!

Worf

 

[Harp]

"Disclosure Day" - With no series left to watch.

Worf

Strongly recommend The Jackal in second season shooting. Excellent cover Forsythe novel
dovetail original 1973 film present day adapted.

Also, SAS Rogue Heroes. Second World War series by same Peaky Blinders producers.

 

[Zombie_61]

"Disclosure Day" - With no series left to watch. Puddin and I took a flyer on Mr. Spielberg's latest foray into Science Fiction. Plainly stated, probably the worst film he's ever done, and that includes 1941. Malevolent government henchmen so blind they can neither see nor hear their quarry when he's 3 feet behind them. Logic has no home here and I won't even begin to discuss it's "Soprano's" like ending. Pheh! I want my 2 hours back!!!!!

Worf

Careful now, good Sir, I rather like "1941". But, yeah, "Disclosure Day" is a mess. Even getting to look at Emily Blunt for nearly 2.5 hours wasn't a good payoff. I cannot recommend people stay away from this movie strongly enough; between this and that last Indiana Jones movie, I just hope it doesn't mean Mr. Spielberg has lost his touch.