It doesn’t drag on the way the new one does- they’re on the boat within the first ten minutes, for instance. There are no pointless attempts to create depth, and there’s no need for them.
And it doesn’t have Jack Black in it.
Then, at one hour, nine minutes and thirty five seconds (I checked) Fay Wray surfaces after falling into the river from King Kong’s eyrie. And her right breast pops out.
Forget starlets trying to get themselves a bit of publicity, this is a 1930s screen goddess accidentally flashing in one of the most famous films of all time. It’s a PG!
I had to be sure, so a bit of screen capture and messing about in Photoshop was called for. I’m sure there are better things to do on a Sunday morning, but I had a lot to drink last night and needed to do something simple to restart the neurons.
What other classic film rudeness is there, I wonder?
The first is a real city, an urban agglomeration of millions. The second is a mythic city, so rich in memory and association and sense of place that to people everywhere it has come to seem real: the New York of such films such as 42nd Street, Rear Window, King Kong, Dead End, The Naked City, Ghostbusters, Annie Hall, Taxi Driver, and Do the Right Thing. A dream city of the imagination, born of that most pervasive of dream media, the movies.