My DVD consumption took a serious nosedive when I went back to school, to the point that — thanks to Amy and eBay — it actually went in reverse. We went from 3-5 new DVD’s a month down to special occasions (which includes the release of new seasons of our favorite TV shows). If we’re really lucky, Amy and I have 90 minutes to spend together each evening. That time is typically spent watching Buffy/Angel or one of the few broadcast shows left on our radar (MI-5, Smallville, Veronica Mars, Battlestar Gallactica … um … Monk … Simpsons?). The days of watching a movie a night are gone, and even with the attrition in the ranks, there is still a sizeable pile of “unwatched” DVDs in a place of prominence by the TV.
So when Amy and the boys leave me home alone on some given night, as they have this weekend, I tend to get out the movies I know she won’t ever choose (Ahem, ) and watch ’em while the watchin’ is good. Last night, it was the much anticipated, much delayed King Kong.
Good call. Amy would have hated it. Peter Jackson was true to the original style of storytelling, albeit with creepy Gollum-like natives and queasy-stomach violence that was part Jurassic Park, part Naked Prey (at least this time I wasn’t eating a burrito as I watched). Mostly, it was the three-plus hours of being always in danger — draining, iin a good way. The effects weren’t as good as Lord of the Rings, but that’s a pretty high bar. Any time somone was carried away by Kong or ran with giant dinosaurs, the transparency went away.
It was like watching a bunch of sequels back-to-back-to-back, only with better dialogue than George Lucas could provide. First is the character study about love, making films, wild goose chases and failure. Then it was a mashup of The Believers and Gorillas in the Mist, all about creepy cults and making monkeys laugh. Next, it was Jurrasic Park, only with a bigger human army and a giant ape on your side. Finally, it ends with An Affair to Remember, with a strong overtone of exploitation and humanity’s great ability to destroy wondrous things. That’s a lot of angst and living nightmare (who hasn’t dreamed about being consumed by giant bugs before?) for an evening. Amy couldn’t handle it.
