Jack Driscoll is Kong? (Spoilers)

Cafe Society
1

Spoilers of course allowed.

I’m not sure if it was intended, but watching the film I got very much a Fight Club feeling. That is, modern, civilised man vs. his innate alpha-male “Og Crush! Og protect little woman!”-self. Just Fight Club lacked the “Og protect” bit, while as here it reigns supreme.

Ann mistakes Driscoll for someone else, before they have actually met, and she says, “Oh thank the lord you’re not one of those scrappy, thin, big-nosed, head in a book type guys!” just to find out that Driscoll is exactly that. What better an image for a modern, civilised guy. Yet she has that desire for someone strong and charismatic. But she is still attracted to him as the intellect and romantic he is.

But the leading man of the film she is to be in, while looking tough is–even before landing on the island–decried as a coward by Driscoll. “Oh but real heroes don’t look like me, they have paunches and bald heads and smell of rum.” That is to say, they look like the Everyman.

Now Kong…well Kong is king. He is everything that the alpha male should be. (Not to mention laying out the serious hurt on some T-Rexes.) And without pause, Ann becomes equally attracted to Kong as she had been to Driscoll.

But at all times, both men are absolutely relentless in their desire to find and protect Ann. And she switches just as easily in her feelings between the two men as they come by. Both men are at heart, romantics.

Finally, Kong is brought to New York.

Modern society has shackled him. There is no hope for him to ever adjust to life in this city–and to the denizens he is simply a relic of bestiality to be prodded and laughed at. Ann cannot stand seeing him in this state. He cannot stand being in this state.

He tries to find her, to be with her–but of course the modern world shuts him out again. And he is left with a choice; he can be King–the ultimate, preening male–or he can give in to the modern world, to adapt to it so he can be with his woman.

While as Driscoll must overcome his fears–he was able to rush to his woman on the island, but never brave enough to “conquer” her.

And so, just as Kong slips off the top of the Empire States Building–and forever out of Ann’s life–Jack Driscoll appears, ready to be the Male for her.

And she turns to him and accepts him without thought or sadness, even though she should be crying at the loss of Kong. Why?

Perhaps because–at least to her–they are one and the same.

2

There’s an obvious thematic parallel intended. Or rather, more along the lines of complement/mirror dealy than doppleganger. But not on the literal level sunk to in Fight Club.

3

That’s interesting, but my take has always been that the parallel is between Carl Denham and King Kong.

They both relentlessly pursue an ideal, heedless of the destruction they’re causing. (Denham’s Big Picture is his “beauty”, Kong’s beauty is Ann, of course.)

Everyone around them is ruined, and yet we like them, because we sympathise with their motivation.

Carl Denham presents risk and danger, Jack Driscoll advocates caution and sensibility, and rushes to the rescue when things go for shit.

Denham states the theme: When the big guy fixates on beauty, the little guys are able to bring him down. Denham had been one step ahead of the little guys until his Kong show disaster.

Denham is very clearly modelled on Merian C. Cooper. (At least, in the original – a lot of PJ creeps into the remake.)

Cooper had been wanting to make his gorilla movie for years, and had met with all sorts of opposition. When he finally hooked up with Willis O’Brian and hijacked his Creation, there was a lot of “Cooper’s folly” talk. A hugely expensive project, in the middle of the Depression, with such a silly premise… obviously it was going to fail, according to the little guys.

Anyway, Merian C. Cooper was fond of bragging “I am King Kong,” meaning if he wanted to do something, he did it. He wasn’t a’scaird of nothing.

That’s more of an in-joke. The Bruce Baxter character is a lampoon of the original Driscoll, who was too much of a '30s cartoon hero to be taken seriously as a romantic lead in a modern film. He was the first mate of the Venture in the '33 version – so as 2005 Driscoll is writing Denham’s film, Denham exclaims “You’re going to kill the first mate?!”

The 2005 Driscoll has been made over to make him, if not exactly an everyman, at least human enough to be sympathetic.

And the “improvised” dialogue that Baxter uses when they’re filming is the actual dialogue from the '33 meeting between Ann and Driscoll “I guess you don’t think much of women on ships.” “I think they’re a damned nuisance! You’d better stay out of the way, below.” “The whole trip?” (And then the softening, “nice” Driscoll:) “Aw, you’re not so bad. Women can’t help being a nuisance. They’re built that way, I guess.”

So there’s the joke of Driscoll looking on and thinking, “Sheesh, what an asshole,” while the swaggering Baxter explains the dialogue needed some “punching up.”

As for the “tweedy type with his nose in a book and his head up his ass,” first meeting, I think it’s just meant to preserve the awkwardness that marks Ann and Driscoll’s first meeting. In the original, she blithely walks up on deck while Driscoll is directing the crew, and as she approaches him from behind he makes a broad gesture and punches her in the face. He doesn’t like her, and gradually comes around to liking her. The original Driscoll’s reason for resenting her was simply that she was female and there, which won’t do for today’s sensibilities, if we’re to root for Driscoll at all. He needed to be given some acceptable reason to be cool to her before warming up. So she blithely makes an insulting faux pas, and confirms his prejudice about actors (rather than women) – “They can go ten thousand miles from home and never see anything but their face in a mirror.” Ann is compelled to like him from the start because she admires his work, and therefore imagines she knows some of his finer self, in spite of his gruff treatment of her – in the original she just inexplicably radiates sensuality and availability to a guy who treats her with zero respect.

You’ve got to have something there for them to overcome to get close to each other.

4

That was what I thought when I saw the remake the other night. She makes some kind of connection with Denham in the restaurant when they’re discussing her character, just like she’ll bond with Kong later. Driscoll spends most of his time chasing her, but that seems to be about it.

5

Maybe it’s just a matter that I haven’t seen the original, but Denham struck me as being more the facilitator of the story (a living McGuffin) than an actual character. It may just have been Jack Black’s performance, admittedly.

Of course, almost all the character seemed, appropriately to a 1933 film remake, like stand-in characters made real.

The amount of time Driscoll was “cold” to Ann in the movie was subliminally short. He sort of frowned; next scene “Hey toots, nice gams!”

6

I don’t really have an opinion on your theory, but Ann WAS crying at the loss of Kong. I don’t know how you can say she accepts Jack without sadness, considering what had just happened and the look of anguish on her face. Without thought? Sure, maybe, but not without sadness and tears. She needed some massive comfort at that moment. Lucky Jack was there for her.

7

A MacGuffin has no important qualities. Any actual MacGuffin can be used interchangably with another. You could replace the statuette in The Maltese Falcon with the rug that “really tied the room together” from The Big Lebowski and vice versa, and nothing else would change.

Everything that happens in King Kong happens because of Carl Denham, yes, but specifically because of the qualities that he has: blind ambition, recklessness, total lack of fear, etc. Driscoll provides a counterpoint to Denham (as do the myriad voices who protest Denham’s actions and decisions.) If you replaced Denham with a different character, none of the action of the film would take place – so Denham is no MacGuffin.

Believe me, it seems like an elaborate courtship compared with the original, which is literally as you describe. He says, “I’m afraid I didn’t apologize very well for hitting you, that was a pretty tough rap on the chin,” and after that they’re pretty much going steady. :smiley:

In the new version the awkwardness lasts longer between them. I guess it’s not really that they’re “cool” towards each other, it’s more that they’re attracted from the start but got off on the wrong foot and have a hard time approaching each other.

One thing’s for sure, Peter Jackson’s Kong is a much more writerly movie than the original, which, although it has some broad themes, is much more of a straightforward adventure movie. It’s like he pulled a sort of cinematic Goldberg Variations trick with it.

Lots of little obliquely significant things worked in, like Al Jolson’s On Top of the World opening the film, which has multiple significances: It establishes the grim optimism of the dirty thirties, taken together with the montage it’s used with – and its lyrics apply literally and metaphorically to Kong. (And, I suppose, to Driscoll, so there’s a point for your interpretation.)

I also liked the beginning when Denham tricks Driscoll into coming along by keeping him onboard the Venture. He’s looking out over the deck as the shoreline recedes, upset because of his lost opportunities in New York. He didn’t want to write the movie, because he loves the theatre. Denham says: “You don’t really love it – if you’d did, you’d have jumped.” So he throws himself into the movie.

This is echoed at the end, when Ann, in shock, stands at the edge, after her “love” has vanished – and then, oh look! It’s Jack.

It’s hard for me to see your interpretation because the Denham = Kong idea has been in my head for decades. Driscoll rescues Ann from Kong, but he’s simultaneously rescuing her from Denham, who’s deceitfully exploiting a vulnerable girl to make his picture. At every step, Denham puts her in more dangerous situations, while Driscoll protests.

Actively trying to see it your way, though, and applying it to the original, there may be something in it. Especially since Driscoll is such a gorilla. (A woman remarks that New York has too many already, when Denham’s Gorilla Act is opening.) Driscoll is clearly uncomfortable in the suit Denham has bought for him, as he an Ann stand there in their finery. He tugs at the collar as though it’s an uncomfortable restraint.

The original Kong’s human love story is more more of a Beauty and the Beast deal than the new one. Driscoll is a Mook to start with, but is all cleaned up and rushes to Ann in his (civilized) monkey suit the instant the beast dies – and they get married in the morning.

It seems to me that this angle is actively downplayed in the remake, though.

8

It doesn’t really add to this conversation, so I’ll apologize in advance. But immediately after seeing this movie, something a friend of mine used to always say got stuck in my head:

“Damn white women, they ain’t nothin’ but trouble.”

I’m sure there are many ways to interpret Kong, but this one hadn’t poked its head out until now.

9

But of course it has.

Yes, Sage Rat, I picked that particular ‘cite’ just for you. :smiley:

10

Okay, then; try this interpretation on for size:

Ann is Kong.

Points of comparison:

–They are both the last of a dying breed: Kong is the last of his kind, while Ann is watching the world of vaudeville comedy, her home and love, disintegrate around her.

–Both are walled away from others: Kong literally so, as the islanders are too much in awe and fear of him to provide any meaningful interaction, while Ann is unable to break through into dramatic theater.

–In both cases, the people on the other side of the wall control and define their roles: Kong is unwillingly cast as the wrathful deity of the islanders, while Ann is forced into seeking work in burlesque shows and chorus lines.

–When given the opportunity to reach out, both manage to undermine themselves, accidentally feeding their respective stereotypes through ignorance and fear. The island natives routinely offer Kong a ‘bride,’ but clearly they don’t last long, since Kong doesn’t appreciate how fragile they are. Ann bungles her introduction to Driscoll through her nervousness, causing him to inititally dismiss her as a typically self-involved actress.

All this adds up to the conclusion that the relationship between Ann and Kong is that of kindred souls; they are, in a sense, opposite sides of the same coin. Ann is able to forge a bond with Kong because she alone goes out of her way to endear herself to him, and because he also has been forced to endure loss and rejection beyond any other character in the film. He is the last of his kind, surrounded by the silent bones of his departed family; the other creatures on the island are locked in a constant death struggle, and the island natives fear him as a wrathful deity, appeasing him from behind an enormous wall. His life is nothing but violence and loneliness until Ann arrives. She is also a victim of rejection, to the point where she believes that all love must end in betrayal and loss. Driscoll has the opportunity to prove her wrong, but he’s initially unwilling to ‘jump;’ although his trade is that of a wordsmith, he is reluctant to bare his soul to her at first. Kong is the first to prove Ann wrong; although he can’t speak his mind, he demonstrates through his apocalyptic defense of her that he will never betray her. Driscoll was right after all-- it’s not about the words. In accepting each other, both Kong and Ann finally learn to trust wholeheartedly.

And this is where Jackson’s movie takes a remarkable detour from the original, one which I have not seen remarked on elsewhere. In Cooper’s movie, Kong’s final attack at the Alhambra Theater is provoked by his desire to protect Ann-- he erroneously believes that she is in danger, and acts accordingly. But in the new film, Kong’s rampage is set off for the exact opposite reason-- because Ann is not there. It’s not stated explicitly, but my interpretation was that Ann has fled out of shame; she is devastated that Kong’s trust in her led to his capture. In Jackson’s film, Ann has become what she has always feared: a betrayer. This is why she has disappeared from Driscoll’s life; she no longer believes she is worthy of love, and so she vanishes into obscurity, willingly embracing the ‘chorus girl’ role that she had scorned as tawdry and demeaning earlier. I doubt it’s any sort of coincidence on the scriptwriters’ part that, at this point in the movie, both Ann and Kong are on stage, both defeated, both acting out the unwilling roles that they were able to transcend when they were together.

Yet even though Ann has abandoned Kong, he refuses to reject her; instead, he roams the streets desperately seeking her out. And when she does realize what has happened at the Alhambra theater, she immediately goes in search of Kong, just as he did for her on the island earlier. Instead of Kong trying to rescue Ann in the original film, Jackson’s version has Ann trying to rescue Kong. And ultimately she does; Kong’s fate in the new film is not so much apocalyptic as bittersweet. In the original film Kong was blasted from the spire and plummeted to his death. Instead, Peter Jackson allows him to slip away in peace; just as his family left their bones on the mountaintop of Skull Island, Kong joins them in the same manner, breathing his last at the pinnacle of the world. Kong dies looking into the sunrise, feeling the embrace of the one person who loves him.

11

Nice.

If I were to advocate this interpretation, I would make a few adjustments:

Vaudeville is Ann’s natural inclination. If it were up to her, it’s what she’d do for her entire life.

Outside forces desire to force them into unnatural liaisons. The job she’s offered at the beginning of the film isn’t a chorus line, it’s an escort service. “Do the date, take the money, forget you were ever there.” This parallels the “brides” that Kong is offered.

She’s forced (by dire straits) to submit herself to Denham and his newfangled motion-picture modernism. Boarding the Venture marks the beginning of her servitude to Denham, just as Kong’s does.

The consider the incident at the Alhambra: Kong is forced to “perform” for Denham, but rejects the gig and runs out into the street – just as Ann has “escaped” from her servitude to Denham to follow her heart. (In the 1933 Kong, Kong isn’t trying to protect Ann - he’s reacting to being photographed.)

Both Kong and Ann want to do what comes naturally – they don’t want the fame and fortune offered by Carl Denham Pictures. They don’t want to be “Royalty.”

Carl Denham, of course, is an image of Merian C. Cooper himself, who was RKO pictures. The Alhambra, (apart from being a natural place to ensconce royalty,) is a real theatre – one that was strictly a Vaudeville venue until the 1930s, when RKO pictures took it over and remade it as a moviehouse.

Kong/Ann is a fish out of water in the modern age. The opportunity is there to adapt and live large, but the inclination is to do what comes naturally, even though it leads to certain “death.”

This is fun. :smiley:

12

Well, poop. That does rather undercut that portion of my analysis, don’t it? I’d remembered the scene differently; I recall him being alarmed by the flashbulbs, but I had the impression that he thought Ann was being attacked by the photographers, and that’s why he took her with him when he made his exit. I hope to God I’m not mistakenly thinking of a scene from the DeLaurentiis version; the holidays this year are eating my brain like kuru.

That’s what I’m here for. :slight_smile:

13

Hmm. Not really. In fact I think Denham specifically says at one point something along the lines of “The flashbulbs! Kong thinks they’re attacking Ann!” (Not a quote; I just remember an explicit reference but have no memory of the actual words.) Now, you can argue that Denham was in fact WRONG, and Kong doesn’t give half a hoot about Ann’s safety. But the movie ain’t that sophisticated. The line is spoken in the grand tradition of hamhanded exposition.

I have the DVD; I may dig it out later.

14

Aw, you’re right, of course. (Checked my DVD.) It’s “Hold up! He thinks you’re attacking the girl!” And one of the photogs says “Aw, let him roar – it’s a swell picture.”

So it works with both forced analogies. Even better. :smiley: