King Kong: Why I Hate It

I might be the only one in the world who doesn’t like King Kong. My friends’ opinions are split into two: some of them say it’s really cool and worth watching; some of them are less enthusiastic and think it’s just ok. But none of them say they hate it.

I do.

Not because it’s the movie about animal. I looove animals. I could cry just by watching Animal Planet. I shed a tear when watching Free Willy and the movie about pandas (forgot its title), and I was sobbing after watching Instinct (and hey, it’s about gorillas as well…).

I hate it because I think it’s not fair. Think about it, even the ugliest beast chooses a beautiful, sexy, blonde girl, and no matter how hard Jack Driscoll (Adrien Brody) has tried, that blonde chooses muscles rather than brain.

Jack tries to rescue her twice (twice!) and she still cries when the Kong died….

Isn’t that sad?

My friend cried because the Kong died, I cried because I feel sorry for Jack.

And I hate screaming girls. I do, I really hate when they scream on top of their lungs. The show of desperation is really not my scene.

But again, the original movie was made in 1933, the time that Manolo Blahnik haven’t invited ergonomic yet sexy high heels and G-tring hasn’t been made, and of course, there’s no “Sex and The City” that opens up our eyes how awful guys AND girls can be (even that Kong pouts after he ripped the dino’s head off in the wonderful battle scene….).

So maybe I shouldn’t complain too much…..



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