King Kong Takes Fay Wray in Hand to Cinematic Immortality

 

                Revolutionizing the cinema in regard to how impactfully and artfully a fantasy-driven story could be presented on the screen, 1933’s King Kong from RKO offers one of the most enduring and enchanting celluloid classics from Hollywood’s early sound period. As the most ambitious undertaking to date from the established producer/director team of Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack, the original concept of the title beastly character being transfixed by beauty was crafted via an exciting, inventive screenplay by Edgar Wallace, James Creelman and Ruth Rose into an adventurous tale unlike any other, wherein daring filmmaker Carl Denham and crew set out on an exhibition to capture Kong on film, to the eventual chagrin of Ann Darrow, the lovely young down-on-her-luck actress with no idea what she’s getting into, with many complications ensuing until the famous climax centered on and around the Empire State Building. Fueled by the incredible, legendary special effects of Willis H. O’Brien that bring Kong and his prehistoric colleagues to life with unforgettable grandeur and precision, while creating in Kong a simultaneously foreboding and sympathetic, multi-dimensional figure who garners a wealth of audience empathy by the final fadeout, a score by Max Steiner that ranks among his and filmdom’s most influential and thrilling, and an energetic cast led by Fay Wray and Robert Armstrong who bring the proper conviction to the elaborate tale, King Kong remains one of the cinema’s premier entertainments, stirring the imagination of each viewer with a power seldom found in films.

                By the time of Kong’s production Cooper and Schoedsack, who met in 1918, had built a solid resume as a skillful filmmaking team with a focus on tales of adventure and/or suspense, often traveling to foreign locales for shooting, starting with 1925’s Grass and including Chang: A Drama of the Wilderness, The Four Feathers and The Most Dangerous Game. With Kong, Cooper worked with O’Brien on scenes emphasizing the special effects aspects of the epic production, while Schoedsack focused on working with the cast for the more straightforward, non-Kong dramatic passages. The results are a remarkable blend of standard narrative and fantasy sequences not yet depicted so convincingly on film, with a slow but intriguing build up during the first section of the movie as Denham and crew sail to Skull Island to encounter the native tribe therein on the quest for Kong, to the exhilarating, scary passages wherein Kong takes over the movie to phenomenal effect. Scenes such as Kong’s first meeting with the sacrificial Ann, him fighting off his prehistorical colleagues, or Kong roaming around and wreaking havoc in New York City before his Empire climb with Ann, hit viewers with undiminished impact over ninety years after the film’s release.

These riveting Kong escapades imbued initial Great Depression era audiences with a hypnotic fascination as they witnessed one awesomely created set piece follow another, in the process gaining an unabated fondness from those who could identify with the put-upon, out-of-his element creature meeting ill fortune as he is rejected by society. In short order Schoedsack, who appears as a copilot with Cooper during Kong’s stirring final clash with mankind, would helm Son of Kong, put together quickly enough for a release at the end of 1933, while with Cooper he would reteam for 1935’s The Last Days of Pompeii and 1940’s Dr. Cyclops, then finish his career with Cooper via 1949’s Kong redux Mighty Joe Young and (uncredited) a massive 1950’s success, This is Cinerama, while Cooper would continue in the producer realm under John Ford with such titles as She Wore a Yellow Ribbon, The Quiet Man  and The Searchers to his credit, in addition to another Cinerama blockbuster, Seven Wonders of the World, before his retirement. True cinematic pioneers of the early sound era as well as the fantasy genre, Cooper would pass in 1973, followed by Schoedsack in 1979, with their unsurpassed accomplishments, specifically in bringing Kong to vibrant life, cementing a key place for them in film history.

For Fay Wray, her work as the charming-yet-terrified Ann Darrow placed her among filmdom’s indomitable heroines, to the point that over six decades later Billy Crystal took time during the Oscars to single her out in the audience for a warm round of applause. Born in 1907, Wray entered films in 1925, then quickly rose to fame as the star of Erich von Stroheim lavish 1928 production of The Wedding March. With the event of talkies, Wray found herself in high demand as a reliable ingenue in films such as Thunderbolt and her first endeavor with Cooper and Schoedsack, 1929’s Four Feathers, before going on to establish herself as the screen’s first and foremost “Scream Queen” in suspense-tinged classics such as Doctor X, The Mystery of the Wax Museum and a second Cooper/Schoedsack collaboration, Dangerous Game. In Kong, Wray manages to keep Ann a consistently believable and appealing figure specifically when, after meeting the besmittened Kong, the character reaches understandable heights of hysteria that result in some of the most primal and convincing shrieks ever captured on film. Wray appears in complete synch with Ann’s plight, admirably delving into the emotionally demanding role with a focus and dramatic verve that renders Ann a key character of 1930’s cinema. Wray also excels in quieter moments, such as early scenes wherein the downtrodden Ann meets Denham and agrees to work with him, or when she strikes up a flirtation with the handsome Jack Driscoll during the voyage to Skull Island. After reaching her career pinnacle in Kong, Wray would continue apace with top fare such as Viva Villa!, The Affairs of Cellini, The Clairvoyant and Adam had Four Sons, before slowing her film output after a 1942 marriage to screenwriter Robert Risken. Occasional later notable appearances included supporting work in The Cobweb, Queen Bee, Tammy and the Bachelor and her final role coming on television in 1980’s Gideon’s Trumpet opposite Henry Fonda, before penning her slyly titled autobiography On the Other Hand in 1989, followed by a lengthy retirement before her passing in 2004 at age 96.

Also gaining everlasting cinematic fame via Kong, Robert Armstrong stands out as the energetic, daring Denham, handling the role with force and a florid theatrical style apt for the role, while also getting the chance to say one of filmdom’s most famous closing lines. Starting his career on stage in 1919 before a 1927 screen debut, Armstrong had worked with Cooper and Schoedsack in Dangerous Game during a very fruitful period as a star and character actor in early sound films (with eight films in 1932 and six in 1933 alone, finishing the year with Son of Kong), Armstrong would continue strongly throughout the decade and the 1940s before slowing down his film output in the 1950s before his final film in 1964, with G Men, The Roaring Twenties, Dive Bomber and Joe Young among his more notable movies. Bruce Cabot also aptly assays his signature role in Kong as the handsome, virile and brave Driscoll, adopting a humorously stoic demeanor early on as Jack is put off then turned on by Ann’s presence on the ship to Skull Island, then moving into heroic mode with ease after Kong enters the picture with designs on Ann. Discovered by David O. Selznick, Cabot would make his entry into films in 1931, then first work with Cooper (in producer mode) with 1933’s Flying Devils, just before his breakthrough Kong role. After this blockbuster Cabot, similar to Armstrong, would go on to a lengthy career, establishing himself post-Kong as a reliable lead and supporting actor in fare such as Ann Vickers, Fury, Dodge City and the Flame of New Orleans, then serve during WWII in a stint with the Air Force while also showing up in The Desert Song, Salty O’Rourke and (post war) Fallen Angel and Smokey. His association with John Wayne starting with 1947’s Angel and the Badman would keep his filmography going as he featured alongside Wayne in hits such as Hatari!, In Harm’s Way, The War Wagon and 1971’s Big Jake, the same year Cabot ended his career appearing in a 007 smash, Diamonds are Forever. Cabot would pass at age 68 in 1972, before Armstrong’s death at the following year.

With an appropriate New York City premiere in March of 1933, King Kong entered the rarified air of those movies that capture the devotion of the masses in a manner that only seems to grow as decades pass. Although not considered “Oscar Material” at the time (and unfortunately probably not today, either), the awed public strongly took to the glories of Kong, allowing the film to eventually rank among the top moneymakers of the 1930s, according to Variety. A re-release in 1952 brought needed income to the dire RKO coffers and introduced the movie to a huge new audience of baby boomers, who also viewed Kong during a 1956 release and via a television debut the same year, cementing Kong’s inclusion among the great monster movies of the 1930s and onward. Besides Son of Kong, Mighty Joe Young and such enjoyable offshoots as King Kong vs. Godzilla, in 1976 producer Dino De Laurentiis provided a much-hyped Kong update that introduced Jessica Lange to the screen, while Peter Jackson, a huge Kong fan, lovingly crafted a 2005 version; both of these versions of Kong scored at the box-office, but largely failed to match the magic of the original. Critical evaluation of Kong has allowed it a rightful place among the most beloved classics, with it placing on the American Film Institute’s 100 Years. . .100 Movies lists in 1998 and 2007, as well as several other AFI polls, including #4 on the AFI’s top 10 Fantasy Films list, as well as being cited on the 1991 National Film Registry list. 2017’s Kong: Skull Island and 2021’s Kong vs. Godzilla are among the most recent examples of Kong finding cinematic means to reach audiences; however, viewers interested in witnessing the screen’s grandest and greatest ape in his ideal image and surroundings need only turn to the 1933 creation of King Kong, one of the most original and artfully crafted films to come out of Hollywood’s Golden Age.