Crackin' Up and Goin' Sappy... (Prelude to the Arrival of a Kong)

Let me make this plain... in the next month there is going to be an awful lot posted here about King Kong. Not just the new King Kong or the original King Kong or King Kong vs. Godzilla or the 1976 remake or the sequel to the 1976 remake or the sequel to the original King Kong or the films with Kong in the title which are actually "rip-offs" or "tributes" (depending on who is being asked about it) or the films without Kong in the title which are actually "rip-offs" or "tributes" (once again depending on haphazard opinion) or the films with Kong in the title that have nothing at all to do with King Kong or... well, you get the drift... 

Normally, I put every film that I see in the period between Recently Rated Movie entries into the most current post, whether or not I plan to write my musings on an individual film at a later date, but I did leave a film off of Edition #8. Of course, after the ape-laden preamble above, it doesn't take a scientist of even the most simply designed rockets to know that such a film would be the original 1933 King Kong

With my new King Kong DVD collection on the way in the mail, and knowing full well that I would probably never look at my set of original tapes again, tapes which I have held dearly in my monster-loving heart for at least the last twenty years and which have brought me great joy in even my most sorrowful of moments, I chose to undertake what I presume may well be my final viewing of said antiquated and outmoded software. Watching the film for the zillionth time, or thereabouts, I found nothing revelatory, nothing different to shake up my knowledge or understanding of the film, nothing that made me rethink what I had seen the previous zillion (or thereabouts) -minus one times... that is, I found nothing on screen that affected me in such a way...

In my head, what I did during the film is constantly think to myself, "My Kong DVD is on the way! I can't wait to see how gorgeous this is going to look on the DVD!" Not just once, not just twice, but for the duration of the entire picture! Sure, in the past I would watch the video and think "Boy, I wish this were on DVD!" and then get back to the viewing at hand. This was different. This was proceeding with the knowledge that in just a few days, the way that I have grown accustomed to looking at King Kong was going to change, not merely with the addition of a couple hundred lines of resolution on my screen, but it was going to clearer, sharper, brighter, and with the imagery popping out at me like it never had before. It was going to change my perception forever of this film. And I was trying to placate my internal impatience with the viewing of an inferior product?

I still enjoyed the film, but the DVD thoughts bounced about my noggin ceaselessly until well after Kong hit the New York City pavement. And then, through the Thanksgiving holidays up in Santa Rosa, in my most headache-y of moments, I found solace in the belief that when I returned home, a clearer, sharper, brighter, poppier Kong would be waiting there for me. And, as in all moments when I have relied on anything in my life, I found myself boundlessly disappointed. For when I did return, there was no Kong waiting for me.

He finally showed up Tuesday evening, but it was too late to alter the course of events lain out for the night. And with the McCartney concert eating up Wednesday evening (that's right... I have to placate myself by going to a Paul McCartney show), I knew that I would not get to spend any time with my favorite primate until Saturday afternoon.

And, boy, are we gonna tear it up!

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