It’s nothing new to observe that willing suspension of disbelief is central to many genres: horror, fantasy, science fiction, and a fair percentage of adventure flicks. For King Kong, one must add: willingness to believe a young woman, even one wandering destitute on the streets of 1933 New York, would, after a few minutes listening to a smooth-talking guy claiming to be a famous moviemaker, agree to sail for months to an undisclosed destination, for an unspecified assignment, on a ship full of men. But that’s what Ann Darrow (Fay Wray) does at the start of King Kong.
Well, OK. King Kong is all that: fantasy, science fiction, adventure. And most especially horror. So I suspended disbelief and took the movie for what it sets out to be: a rousing good time.
That moviemaker? It’s Carl Denham (Robert Armstrong), the 1933 equivalent of David Attenborough, famous for seeking out exotic locales around the world and bringing back footage of extraordinary animals in their native habitat. For his next movie, he’s mounted an expedition to a remote island. Unlike his previous movies, he’s decided to include a female character because, well, audiences of the time (and ours too, still) expect a pretty girl.
By the time the voyagers reach their mysterious destination, Ann and first mate Jack Driscoll (Bruce Cabot) have fallen in love. The island looks like a long-extinct volcanic crater, with steep outer walls that form a natural prison. The only access to the jungle-like interior is through a gigantic gate guarded by natives who have served there from time immemorial. And behind the gate? Kong, a fearsome, towering, gorilla-like creature.
In their first foray to convince the natives to let them through the gate, the best they can get is an offer by the chief to trade six native girls for Ann. No deal.
It’s not much of a spoiler to reveal that the natives of course want Ann as a sacrifice, and they kidnap her late at night and offer her up to Kong. The ship’s crew mount a pursuit through a hellish landscape that might make you think of The Land That Time Forgot and certainly the more janky remakes of Jurassic Park. They manage to save Ann, capture Kong, and transport him to New York to be put on display for those climatic scenes that nearly everyone is familiar with.
See It
King Kong is a technical masterpiece. Give credit to the filmmakers: There’s no guy in a gorilla suit. If you want to know more, books have been written detailing the complex blending of stop-motion animation, rear projection, miniatures, and film compositing and editing. The 1933 audiences were terrified. I myself was genuinely swept up in the action at times, such as when Driscoll is hiding from Kong under the ledge of a cliff. Kong reaches down, feeling blindly around for Driscoll. It’s engrossing. Even a touch of humor, as Driscoll stabs the big hand and Kong recoils at the sting and examines his finger.
Fay Wray was the only cast member whose acting struck me as the least bit authentic. As the classic damsel in distress, she was tasked with screaming (a lot) and writhing against various restraints and that giant furry fist, and she does a credible job with her expressions of terror. She was a trooper, putting up with demanding requirements to get those special effects shot. She once spent 22 hours in a fake tree while footage for a battle was filmed below her. King Kong put her in the Hollywood spotlight, and fortunately the “first scream queen” wasn’t completely typecast; she had a credible acting career in movies and TV lasting nearly 60 years.
Denham’s initial proclamation that movie goers want a pretty girl is a wink to King Kong’s audience. It is a film of its time, and we can acknowledge that without being required to like it. To the end, Ann Darrow is rendered as a helpless puppet, with all the male characters either fawning over her or treating her condescendingly. The grainy version I watched on Amazon Prime did not indicate how complete this 1:40 version is vis-à-vis scenes said to have been deleted and restored over time. Though the filmmakers in this pre-Code era evidently ditched some overt sexual exploitation scenes in earlier screenplay drafts, they do indulge in pandering when Kong peels off some of the heroine’s dress, as if just playing with a toy. Academic analysis of the Kong’s symbolism and the subtexts it exploits abound.
Despite the fact that I’m taking this 1933 movie to task for, admittedly, not conforming to some of my 2025 biases, I nonetheless enjoyed watching it and recommend it. For film students, it’s the grandaddy of the creature-feature genre that survives to this day. It’s been followed not only by multiple Kong remakes but an epic number of Godzilla and similar flicks. The special effects were extraordinary for the day, especially in the extended jungle sequences; though today’s audiences will spot a multitude of glitches, the overall atmosphere remains creepy and suspenseful. Still, I don’t rank it among my top favorites; for all its technical prowess and Fay Wray’s acting, the plot is paper-thin and lacking any nuance. The chief accomplishment is that, despite showing an enraged Kong chomping people to death and sowing destruction equally among his foes and innocent bystanders, we feel sorry for the poor guy as he releases his grip on the Empire State building.
While everyone will have their favorite comparison to a modern film, I’m not thinking of Jurassic Park but Aliens. Denham reminds me of Burke (the Paul Reiser character), who, when faced with a creature that common sense would tell him he can’t possibly control, chooses profits over the safety of his colleagues. Denham’s famous last line echoes through the ages: “It was beauty killed the beast.” Nope. It was human greed, hubris, and stupidity. If only they’d brought along Ripley instead of Ann.