Kong: Skull Island

Could it be that islands still exist, prehistorically penetrating legend and myth with unbridled evidenced imposing extant luminosity, persisting undisturbed in majestic unrecorded intransigent galed shadow, a roar, a whisper, more lively and crisper ecosystems biologically invested in atemporal ontological sincerity, harmony, in other words, crépuscule, a delicate balance, a ferocious bottom line, lost in leisure in starlit environs, vigilance required to consummate freedom, at home in the pacific, empirically thine?

I would write that the adventurers weren't ready for their quest if it wasn't for the fact that nothing could have prepared them.

But I suppose the nature of questing demands a forged psychological allegiance between ill-preparation and adaptability, immediacy continuously generating an agile improvised awareness, which is narratively applicable to the epic in hand.

Characters descend on the ancient generally undiscovered home of King Kong in Jordan Vogt-Roberts's Kong: Skull Island, a chaotic campy realistic yet improbable, and therefore emancipating, energetic exploration of the quaintly forbidden.

Their goal is scientific yet commercial and thus the military's aid is bromantically secured.

Friendship, collegiality, professionalism, and love, populate the script with wild rhythmic versatile denizens, its cosmopolitan lodge fertile if not frenzied, the unfriendly monsters ready to eagerly devour those with too much or not enough innate courage.

Plus random soldiers.

But Kong protects them which trigger-happy Preston Packard (Samuel L. Jackson) cannot comprehend as he attempts to kill him to right misperceived wrongs.

His attempts are obviously pigheaded but they do aptly reflect mad extremist methodologies.

The explorers, military personnel, and scientists, curiously encounter an old pilot from World War II who was forced to make his home on the island as well.

He survived by living with an Indigenous tribe who Kong altruistically protects from voracious giant lizards.

Hank Marlow (John C. Reilly [it's classic John C. Reilly :)]) represents the Indigenous people in the film, stands in for them as they (literally) fade into the background, and Packard refuses to listen to his tooth and nail.

Would the ending not have been more striking, more memorable (alright, Kong's fight with the Lizard King is memorable but the surrounding material isn't so much [okay, they escape on a boat, I'll remember that, but . . .]) if the Indigenous peoples stopped Packard before he tried to kill Kong, and everyone then escaped having understood the logic of their decision?

Such a development would have functioned as a salient metaphorical critique of the Vietnam war which otherwise isn't critically examined.

What I'm trying to say is, it would have rocked if Skull Island went Avatar.

With Kong still fighting the giant Lizard of course.

It's still a lot of fun, the new King Kong movie, and, as a matter of fact, I couldn't help comparing it to Planet Terror and Machete Kills since it unreels with a similar more family friendly aesthetic.

There are moments where it captures the magic that makes those films stand out, but the sequels will have to dig deeper for me to mention their names in the same breath.

Again.

I still recommend the film.

A great March release.

I was worried about March this year.

But so far it ain't so bad.

The Kings of Summer

United off-kilter offspring.

Clinical bourgeois dexterity.

Juvenile introspective applicatory superciliousness.

Plunging right in.

Two friends and an accompanying oddball run away to the woods for the summer, and, since no one thinks to check for them there, their wilderness survival antics wantonly dipsy-doodle.

Perhaps not wantonly.

The Kings of Summer could have been more wanton.

Wanton at times however, as the daydreamy trouble making instigator must realize that he lacks the instincts of the hunter possessed by his lifelong associate who can't figure out what his problem is after the introduction of a feminine element.

Biaggio (Moises Arias) etherealizes a somewhat useless hands-on constructivism with a pertinent decorative unassuming acumen, best captured by the interpretive dance he releases to the beat of his rhythmic companions's drumming.

They interact as would young idealistic ill-prepared yet stubborn teens who find themselves inhabiting a nimble hardy brash funny neurotic filmic reverie.

The other main feature is Joe's (Nick Robinson) sarcastic jaded controlling super strict live-in family member whose prick of a temperament endears him to none.

Although he does steal a couple of scenes with his complete lack of sensitivity.

Suppose the scenes were meant for him.

He doesn't steal them.

These kids aren't that concerned with electronic devices.

They are able to competently manage a budget for awhile anyways however.

When Joe actually does hunt The Kings of Summer reaches a higher level.

Fun film.