King Kong (2005)

Koko: Barbarous remake of a happily stupid classic. I'm all for interspecies romance, but not in a million years will I accept a story sponsoring love--requited love, no less--between something as superhumanly hot as Naomi Watts and a twenty-five foot tall gorilla. Only the giddy, spit-in-your-face, "So, you wanna believe in giant monkeys" gusto of the 1933 original can carry such a clownish exposition to its climax. Ponderous mulch from a New Zealand hobbit-hopper asking us to forget that we're watching every man's fantasy fall for a grunting monolith gets away with nothing. Don't kid yourself. Either it's a delirious joke, in which case attaboy, or it's the most extravagant bestiality since Jesus put a stop to all those cool cattle-rustling incarnations of Zeus. What it emphatically isn't, is a movie, so don't ask me to feel sorry for the big furry pimp as he leaps from the top of the Empire State Building, or for his conquest as she turns away ruefully, unable to witness the end of her opposably-thumbed Casanova. If this were some kind of hypererotica, I'd regret (and applaud) that poor woman's task; if it were carnival, I'd use my mask to cover up her gaping aesthetic holes. But it's not porn or pantomime, and so it earns neither the gross spectacle of athletic wonder (giant gorilla junk!) nor the excusability of plain foolishness. Pathos, I'm sorry to say, has no business on Skull Island; save that shit for the goofy crowds on Broadway--and for Jack Black, who inexplicably acts in this movie.

Slothrop: Koko, in vehement denial that she'll ever get her some hot blonde pussy, takes out her monkey hormonal rage on a sweet fairy tale. What, fictional cock and imaginary donkey ass isn't good enough for her? Must've been how she was raised.