TRAILER TRASH! Godzilla Edition, Vol. 2

For more GODZILLA goodness--come down to the Bijou Theatre in Bridgeport, CT next Thursday, September 27 for my special "Nuclear Nightmares" double feature of the original 1954 Gojira and the giant ant epic Them! It's all part of Bedlam at the Bijou...

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The Many Faces of King Kong

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VAULTCAST! Conversations in the Dark: Miguel Rodriguez Returns!

Once you get two dyed-in-the-wool Godzillaphiles together, it seems you just can't keep them apart. And so, we come to the third installment of the crossover podcast series Monster Island Resort's Miguel Rodriguez and I have been recording--all about our mutual passion, Big G. This time out, we turn our attention away from the classic Showa series of the 1950s-1970s, and move on to the second series of Godzilla films.

Produced from the mid 1980s through the late 1990s, the Heisei series represented something of a rebirth for the giant lizard. There certainly was a lot of ground to cover, and many films to discuss; but Mr. Rodriguez and I were certainly up to the task. Listen in and join us, won't you?

As always, you have a couple of options. You can listen on the embedded player below, or proceed to the Vaultcast page and download it!



Part 1 of the series!
Part 2 of the series!

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Thursday Guilty Pleasure: Week Two

Well, kids, it's The Vault of Horror's third anniversary today--and what better way to celebrate than to regale you with my love for cheesy Japanese monsters and little boys in ridiculous shorts? That's right, it's time for another edition of Thursday Guilty Pleasure, brought to by yours truly and Missy Yearian of Chickapin Parish, the poor misguided soul who seems to derive joy from the nadir of Dario Argento's career. Read on...

Godzilla's Revenge (1968)

Speaking of nadirs, this happens to be, by everyone's estimation, the ultimate lowpoint of the entire classic Showa series of Godzilla films from Toho. To that I say, pshaw. That's right! Pshaw. Because Godzilla's Revenge--as you would know if you listened to my recent Vaultcast with Miguel Rodriguez--brings me, and has always brought me, a disproportionate amount of pleasure.

By the late 1960s, Toho had completely given in to the fact that the main fans of the Godzilla series were little children. And so, instead of trying to make truly excellent films like Ishiro Honda's original Gojira, they started cranking out blatant kiddie fare, created without any intention of being anything but fluff. But once you accept that this isn't Gojira...well, Godzilla's Revenge can be a whole lot of fun.

You've got the little boy Ichiro, who aroused more jealousy in me than any other cinematic boy aside from possibly Elliot in E.T. You see, Ichiro had a magical machine that could transport him to Monster Island to hang out Big G and the rest of the gang. OK, so he was only dreaming, but that didn't make it any less awesome to me. I wanted to be that boy, and I wanted to chill with Anguirus, Gorosaurus and the rest of the kaiju crew.

Then, of course, there's Minya. That's right, I was the world's biggest Minya fan. Godzilla's little son (although paternity was never incontrovertibly established) completely captured my imagination, with his Don Knotts-like voice and classic smoke-ring blowing abilities. Yes, he may be the most maligned member of the Japanese movie monster fraternity, but I'm not too much of a snob to admit I loved the goofy-looking guy--and somewhere, in my grown-up heart, I still do. So take that, purists!

Godzilla's Revenge is a whole lot fun--not to mention the perfect gateway Godzilla film for little kids. So let's all get off the high horse, kick back and enjoy it's silly goodness, shall we? After all, what better way to learn a lesson about how to deal with bullying than by watching Godzilla duke it out with something that looks like a cross between a giraffe and a cat?



And now, I toss it over to Ms. Yearian, and her Guilty Pleasure for this week...

Mother of Tears (2007)

There is something special about Italian horror, no? All of us genre fans have a little place in our heart for those crazy Italians—mostly Lucio Fulci and Dario Argento. They make what we like to call “style over substance” movies. Hell, I’ve never seen a Lucio Fulci movie make much sense. Argento, however, is somehow a master at this particular kind of filmmaking. His movies are generally among the most visually beautiful you’ll ever see (see Suspiria or Tenebre).

This is why I was so surprised to discover that he’d botched Mother of Tears so badly. Holy hell, is that movie a mess or what? I mean, the acting is abysmal. The visuals are absurd. The story makes no sense. It should be the greatest cinematic disappointment of the decade.

But for some reason, it just isn’t. Don’t get me wrong. This is one of the worst horror movies I have ever seen. It’s an absolute disaster. But I’ve got such a girl boner for it that I can hardly believe it. That’s right, folks. I love Mother of Tears.

What makes the movie such a treat is the absolute shamelessness with which Argento made it. From the beginning, wherein a woman is strangled with her own intestines, the film is an experiment in absurdity. If I were to give you a highlight reel, it would look like the worst films of the eighties (a decade Argento seems to still be stuck in). A good example of this is the monkey (is it really a monkey? A baboon? Who knows?) that chases Sarah all over Italy. One could also cite the people chasing her on the train, what with their decidedly Duran Duran hairdos and makeup stylings.

But the real treat of Mother of Tears is the titular witch. Sporting a big, bouncy hairdo and the glossiest red lips you’ve ever seen, she’s no more terrifying than your average glance at your family photo albums. Upon first seeing her, I thought, “What? This is the worst of the three mothers? But she’s so eighties!”

All right, all right, truth be told, when I first saw Mother of Tears, I thought it was awful. I thought it was the worst possible ending to a fantastic trilogy. But then I saw it again. And, I don’t know, folks. You’ve got to admire Argento’s moxy. He made one atrociously bad movie (and yes, a bad ending to the trilogy), but it’s sure got style, doesn’t it?



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Yes, you read correctly up there at the top. Today is the third birthday of The Vault of Horror--which began here, if you'd care to check out the very first, completely unimpressive post. So to just keep it brief, I'd like to thank everyone, both colleagues and readers alike, for supporting this blog and helping it grow into what it is today. I can assure you... you ain't seen nothing yet.

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VAULTCAST: Conversations in the Dark... w/Miguel Rodriguez

Have you recently found yourself overcome with the unrelenting need to hear two 30-something year-old men talk for nearly an hour about Japanese monster movies? If so, then boy, have you come to the right place.

This week on the Vaultcast, it is my distinct honor to have as my guest Mr. Miguel Rodriguez, a fellow Godzilla-phile who also happens to run his own podcast, Monster Island Resort. As you can probably tell from the name of his show, Miguel is a huge fan of the big green lizard and his many far-out cohorts and foes. And given my own unconditional love of all things kaiju--see my three-part history of the original Godzilla series--I figured it might be a very good idea if we put our heads together and engaged in some mutual worship of rubber monster suits.

I warn you ahead of time: The geekery involved this week reaches alarming proportions. Your mileage may vary. If you dare to take a listen to our discussion of singing fairies, cockroach people and little boys in tiny shorts, then check out the embedded player below--or proceed directly to the official Vaultcast page to download.



Monster Island Resort podcast: http://www.monsterislandresort.org/
For more on Horrible Imaginings: The Horror Film Festival of San Diego
Twitter: http://twitter.com/MnstrIsleResort

*Special thanks to Captain Cruella of Village Invasion - Crawl of the Dead for forging the unholy Solomon/Rodriguez alliance!

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The Many Faces of Godzilla

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TRAILER TRASH: King Kong Edition!

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The Tuesday Top 10: Favorite Ray Harryhausen Creations

Can I admit something? There are nights I go to sleep sounder knowing that Ray Harryhausen is still out there somewhere. That such a titanic legend of the movies, and of genre entertainment in general, is still with us. The great Harryhausen turned 90 today, and to commemorate the birthday of the screen's most revered special effects man, this week I'm looking back at his greatest works.

The efforts of Ray Harryhausen brought me great joy as a child, and they still do. For example, back in the days before VCRs, I became so entranced by a showing of Jason & The Argonauts on TV that I checked the TV Guide (remember that?) to see what day and time it was, my naive six-year-old brain assuming the network would be showing it again each year, like they did with The Wizard of Oz. So that gives you an idea of how deeply I fell in love with the magic of Ray Harryhausen.

And so, this week for the Tuesday Top 10, I reached back through all my favorite Harryhausen flicks to come up with the specific stop-motion creations of his that thrilled me the most. Happy Birthday to Mr. Harryhausen, and thanks in particular for giving us the following...

10. The Kraken
Clash of the Titans (1981)
Why does the ultimate weapon of the gods rank so low? Well, between you and me, the infamous Kraken has never been at the top of my list because, as impressive as it is, the Greek mythology buff in me was always put off by how it looked nothing like the Kraken as traditionally described. In hindsight, since the Kraken is actually a giant squid, I suspect the change was made so the creature wouldn't too closely resemble the next entry in my list, one of Harryhausen's earlier triumphs...

9. Giant Octopus
It Came from Beneath the Sea (1955)
Harryhausen famously created an octopus with only six arms for the sake of manageability, but given the finished product, I can forgive him. The monstrous cephalopod that attacks San Francisco in Robert Gordon's classic giant-monster-run-amok movie is a sight to behold, made even more foreboding by the fact that we only see a bit of it here, and a bit of it there. As a proud Italian-American and sci-fi fan, I can honestly say this movie comes to mind anytime I'm enjoying a little polpo salad...

8. Flying Saucers
Earth vs. The Flying Saucers (1956)
At least up until Independence Day, this might have been the most iconic alien invasion ever put to celluloid, and the thanks for that is due pretty much entirely to Harryhausen. With all due respect to B-director extraordinaire Fred F. Sears and the mighty Clover Productions, it's Harryhausen's unforgettable fleet of spacecraft that everyone remembers to this day. What also makes this particular effort stand out is it's one of the only times that Harryhausen animated something other than living creatures.

7. Rhedosaurus
The Beast from 20,000 Fathoms (1953)
This particular monstrosity was the one that put Harryhausen on the map as the go-to man in stop-motion animation. And it's a matter of public record that there basically would've been no Godzilla without the influence of Harryhausen's work here, crafting a dinosaur that wreaks havoc in New York City. The final standoff in Coney Island is something to see--hell, every time this thing is on screen it's something to see. Quite literally the granddaddy of all movie dinos.

6. Kali
The Golden Voyage of Sinbad (1974)
Technically it's not actually the Indian goddess of death, but rather a wooden idol come to life, but that took nothing away from how much this demonic creature freaked me out. Sinbad and his men face a few different beasties in this, my second favorite Sinbad movie, but the six-armed Kali was definitely the one that most stuck with me.

5. Ymir
20 Million Miles to Earth (1957)
One of Harryhausen's most creative creations, the Ymir was a Venusian alien that crash-lands in Italy and grows bigger and bigger as the movie progresses. Today the Ymir is practically synonymous with Ray Harryhausen effects, as was proven when a statuette of the creature was packaged with a recent special edition DVD box set of Harryhausen films (which, with any luck, will be mine before too long...)

4. Medusa
Clash of the Titans (1981)
As if the original Harryhausen masterpiece wasn't enough, the Medusa was made even more wondrous in comparison to the ridiculous CGI failure of the recent Clash of the Titans remake. Harryhausen's brilliance came in taking a well-known creature of myth and making it his own--the snake body and bow and arrow, for example, were his concepts. And the manner in which he pulls off her famous mane of vipers is breathtaking, proving once again that the heart and soul he put into his work could outshine anything spewed forth from a computer.

3. Cyclops
The 7th Voyage of Sinbad (1958)
Speaking of classic monsters of myth, here's another one brought vibrantly to life by the master. This was the first time his work would be shown off in a full color feature, and we couldn't possibly have asked for a cooler creature to show off with than this nightmarish behemoth. There have been many Harryhausen creations that impressively embodied the man's artistry, but this may very well be the one for which he's best known.

2. The Skeleton Army
Jason & The Argonauts (1963)
It was very tough not making this my number one, as the sight of this ghoulish battalion of undead warriors is something I will always cherish as a lover of film in general. In fact, talk to any died-in-the-wool Harryhausen fanatic, and it won't be very long before this incredible scene is brought up. The interaction between the human characters and stop-motion figures is particular outstanding, and there's no doubt this climatic combat was the most deftly staged of all Harryhausen effects sequences.

1. Talos
Jason & The Argonauts (1963)
Yes, Jason & The Argonauts is my favorite Harryhausen picture, and so it gets the top two spots on my list. As much as I adore the skeletons, Talos will always be the one creation that best represents the talent of Ray Harryhausen for me, personally. That initial viewing of this movie all those years ago was highlighted most of all for tiny B-Sol by the emergence of this terrifying, towering bronze killing machine. The movement, the design, the sound effects--it all added up to pure movie magic. And that's what the body of work of Ray Harryhausen is all about.

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The Lucky 13: Week Two: Creature Features/Monster Movies

Welcome back for the second weekly installment of The Lucky 13, The Vault's summer-long collaboration with Brutal as Hell. After last week's descent into the debauchery of grindhouse and exploitation, this week we visit one of the most traditional of horror sub-genres, perhaps the most traditional of all--monster movies and creature features.

Technically speaking, if one were in the hair-splitting mood, these two can indeed be separated into distinct sub-subgenres, with monster movies implying more old-school humanoid beasties, and creature features referring to more of the giant-behemoth-on-the-loose premise. But for our purposes this week, we're taking an all-inclusive look at the bizarre, other-worldy abominations of nature that haunt the history of horror cinema!

B-Sol on Bride of Frankenstein

This could very well be the most skillfully made horror film of them all--certainly of the so-called "classic era" of horror movies, in which, very often, they were treated as mere children's fare. Bride of Frankenstein is so much more than that. It's a sublime expression of cinema as art, wrapped subversively in the guise of a monster movie. For one thing, the film is tinged with a daring Christian allegory that only adds to the viewing experience. Who would've thought that the Frankenstein monster could become a Christ figure, yet this movie does it. Heavy stuff for a creature feature!

Bride of Frankenstein is filled with unforgettable scenes. Chief among these is the rightfully famous log cabin scene with the blind hermit. Parodied in Young Frankenstein almost as famously, this is nevertheless one of the truly immortal film scenes, and for my money may be the most emotionally moving one I've ever seen in a horror film. It's for moments like this one that the film totally transcends the genre.

Bride of Frankenstein is a film that is far more sublime and wonderful than it has any right to be. Filled with remarkable imagery and delightful performances, it is the kind of film you show to someone who has yet to appreciate the finer points of what genre entertainment has to offer. There is a handful of horror films of such high quality that one can literally classify them among the greatest movies ever made. Bride of Frankenstein is one of them. It's the shining triumph of the beloved Universal cycle of monster films.



Cinema Suicide's Bryan White on The Thing (1982)

These days I'm over moaning about remakes, but I used to get pretty angry about the entire notion. It just doesn't make any sense to me. While complaining about remakes, though, I would always conveniently forget that one of my favorite John Carpenter movies is, in fact, a remake in the most genuine sense of the word. Remakes often keep the general framework of the source material intact while taking giant liberties with the specifics, and that's pretty much what's happening in The Thing.

John Carpenter is a noted fan of the 1951 Howard Hawks film, The Thing From Another World, which is in turn based on a 1938 short story called Who Goes There. Hawks' film keeps the general idea of a frozen alien space ship, but throws out a lot of the short story's details in favor of casting a tangible villain with a hideous appearance. Carpenter's remake actually comes a lot closer to Who Goes There by setting the movie in a location as remote as you can get, Antarctica, and then pits a small arctic research team against a monster that it really can't even see. This is the weirdest part of choosing The Thing as my monster movie pick because when you get down to brass tacks, the titular Thing is actually a microbe that takes the form of the research team, occasionally revealing itself to be a nasty piece of bio-horror as it assimilates its victims. By the end of the movie, its true form is revealed to be a throbbing tower of flesh and teeth, but on the way, the monster--usually the draw to these monster movies--just looks like the rest of the cast.

Carpenter's flick is an examination of paranoia, and a spiral of horror that suggests that the craft they found may not even be The Thing but it's latest victim, and Earth is its latest conquest. Though the original Hawks picture is a monster movie by definition, Carpenter's version manages to fall just inside the confines because of its ambiguity. I'm in love with Rob Bottin's unbelievably nasty special effects, too. When the movie suddenly starts to feel like a body horror movie, someone's severed head sprouts legs and beats a hasty retreat. The Thing is colorful, completely nasty and is home to a brand of paranoia that is downright suffocating at times.



From Beyond Depraved's Joe Monster on King Kong

In the pantheon of giant monster movies, King Kong remains one of the reigning champions of the form, a king of the jungle in the most appropriate sense. It can’t be denied that this film seems to have it all: an engaging story, incredible special effects, and one of, if not THE, greatest scene of a giant creature’s rampage in a bustling metropolis. But there’s something that Kong possesses that other monster movies of its ilk seemed to have missed. King Kong has a wonderful sense of humanity, exhibited not only in the likable characters, but also in the monstrous form of Kong himself.

Willis O’Brien and his team of expert technicians worked wonders in their exciting world of stop-motion dinosaurs and beasts. The smallest of details were rendered by their deft hands. I’m still blown away every time I see tufts of Kong’s fur blown by the wind. But those are just superficial matters. Where the genius of the special effects crew truly shines through is during the brief but ever-so-intimate moments when the audience is able to look past Kong’s roaring terror into the warm heart that lies beneath his giant chest. This is especially seen during one of my personal favorite moments, when Kong innocently but curiously plucks off Fay Wray’s garments. The looks on Kong’s face appear so cleverly human. We can relate to him. A 25-foot jungle ape that we can sympathize with. How can you argue over the greatness of something like that?

But don’t for one moment be mistaken, dear reader. King Kong isn’t merely a sappy romantic comedy that has Tom Hanks replaced by a slightly more attractive lead. There’s red-blooded adventure and intrigue galore. And what’s a giant monster movie without scenes of terrible, wanton destruction and carnage? You’ll watch in rapt fear as Kong busts through the giant wooden gate that has kept him at bay for all these years. And who isn’t familiar with the instantly classic scene of Kong crushing his way through the skyscrapers of 1930s New York? Kong may be a softy at heart, but he never lets you forget that he is a titanic gorilla on a mission of death. He mercilessly stuffs humans into his mouth and grinds them into the earth under the weight of his colossal monkey foot. And as mentioned before, the craftsmanship of O’Brien is awesomely exhibited during the scenes where Kong wages hairy battle against the monsters of the island, most notably the snapping T-Rex.

This is the stuff that dreams of Saturday matinee boys and girls are made of. The climax atop the Empire State Building has just as much resonance now as it did over 70 years ago. It’s the last stand of a beast from a distant world against the forces of a realm it has no knowledge of. Don’t be surprised if you feel a lump develop in your throat as Kong languishes on the building as the airplanes rain their bullets upon him. This is more than just a monster movie. This is cinema at its finest.



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Head over to Brutal as Hell to see what Marc Patterson and his crew have come up with. And if you're interested in taking part in the future, just give Marc or myself a holler.

Join us next week for The Lucky 13, as we peer into the realm of Demons, Witches & The Devil...

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Retro Review: Frankenstein Conquers the World (1965)

This here is the kind of a movie that is going to help determine if you are a tried-and-true kaiju fanatic, or just someone who enjoyed watching a couple of Godzilla movies on syndicated TV when you were a kid. Simply put, Frankenstein Conquers the World is not for everyone. But if you love this sort of thing--Japanese giant monster movies--then it's a veritable treasure trove of rubber-suited goodness.

Who knew the mythos created by Mary Shelley and reinterpreted by Universal would come so far, and be taken to such a nearly unrecognizable point? Toho co-opts the classic Euro-American pop culture figure with an enthusiasm that's just tough to knock. Sure, they seem to have no grasp of what the source material is really all about--but it just seems mean to trash a movie in which the Frankenstein monster grows to gigantic size and fights a classic Japanese kaiju. This is the kind of a movie where you know what you're getting into. Either it's exactly what you're looking for, or it's nothing you'd ever go near. And you can count me firmly amongst the former.

The story begins in Germany at the end of World War II. Nazis raid what appears to be Dr. Frankenstein's laboratory (in 1945? and was it in Germany to begin with??) and seize the heart of the monster--which is inexplicably the only part left of him. The scene in which they steal the heart is quite bizarre, as it is done completely in mime, almost as if the screenwriters couldn't be bothered to write German dialogue. It's weird and goofy, and pretty much sets the tone for the entire flick.

The Gerries hand the heart over to their allies in Japan, just as everything is going to hell in Europe. It's interesting, by the way, to notice how in Takeshi Kimura's script, the Japanese distance themselves from their former wartime buddies--they seem to regard the Nazis as pathetic and desperate losers that they can't wait to see crash and burn.

Anyway, just as scientists in Hiroshima are studying the heart in order to breed a race of super soldiers (what else?), the city is hit by the big one. Well, there goes that experiment. Ah...but you forget, this is a Japanese monster movie, which means that the Frankenstein heart, irradiated from the atom bomb, mutates into a sort of bizarro clone of the original creature.

Fast forward 15 years later, and the young monster is discovered by yet more scientists--who, it's interesting to note, insist on pointing out that the creature is Caucasian, when actor Koji Furuhata clearly is not. And thanks to the dose of radiation, he's growing way beyond the bounds of his platform shoe-wearing predecessor In fact, he grows big enough to be able to take on the mighty Baragon, who for no reason at all shows up out of nowhere to wreak some havoc. Frankenstein (as he's referred to throughout the movie) escapes the lab, and fights Baragon, followed by....a giant octopus! Why? Not a clue. But I loved every minute of it.

The 1960s is often looked at as a golden age by fans of this sort of stuff, and Frankenstein Conquers the World (which he doesn't even come close to doing, by the way), is an excellent example of how much fun these movies were. Ishiro Honda, the director of the original Gojira, takes the reigns, accompanied by his ace special effects man Eiji Tsuburaya, and musical composer Akira Ifikube. Together, this trio delivers a balls-to-the-wall mega kaiju extravaganza which will either have you jumping up and down on your couch with glee, or scratching your head quizzically for 90 minutes. This movie will definitely determine what kind of genre fan you are!

The effects in Toho films take a lot of flak, and much of it is deserved, but a lot of it is also ignorant. Yes, the effects suffered a decline in the 1970s, but during the mid-'60s they were pretty slick for the time. Here in America, the completely different, stop-motion approach of the Ray Harryhausen school may have tended to bias some fans (the constant maligning in the pages of Famous Monsters of Filmland didn't help, either), but there's definitely something to be said for Tsuburaya's work in this film, and others like it. There's some very cool composite work to be found, for example.

Yes, the whole thing builds to what amounts to a guy with fake teeth, a flattop wig and a furry loincloth wrestling with another guy in a rubber lizard suit, but hey, what were you expecting, Wuthering Heights?

Ifikube contributes some of his best film music, and that's saying a lot. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that the score helps save the movie in parts, adding much-needed atmosphere at times. Actually, since with Frankenstein in the title, one would think this movie was vaguely connected to horror, it should be pointed out that Ifikube's music really helps to convey a sense of dread and mystery in places. I was surprised to find that there are several moments in the film, mostly involving the monster, that are actually pretty creepy.

I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the one and only Nick Adams, the poor man's James Dean, in the role of American doctor James Bowen. This was Adams' first kaiji film, followed soon after by Godzilla vs. Monster Zero. Unfortunately, unlike that film, the version of Frankenstein Conquers the World currently on DVD is subtitled rather than dubbed, which means you don't get to hear Adams own voice speaking English in that woefully out-of-place Bowery boys accent.

The beautiful Kumi Mizuno appears as Bowen's love interest, Sueko. She and Adams would be reunited immediately after for Monster Zero, and in fact Mizuno even appeared in the last (to date) G-flick, Godzilla: Final Wars. Adams' partner, Dr. Kawaji, is played by Toho favorite Tadao Takashima, who had already appeared in King Kong vs. Godzilla and Atragon, and would later turn up in Son of Godzilla.

All in all, Frankenstein Conquers the World delivers on everything one would expect from a movie called Frankenstein Conquers the World. It's boatloads of fun, and just plain cool to see a classic Western monster interpreted in such a foreign milieu. It might not be everyone's cup of tea, but for lovers of Japanese giant monster fare and general Cold War-era cheese, it's a relative rarity that yields some wonderful, oddball things.

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Retro Review: King Kong (1933)

So there I was, banging my head over how to tie in Thanksgiving somehow here at the Vault, when none other than Mrs. B-Sol pointed out a connection so obvious I'm still kicking myself for missing it. I don't know about you, but when we were kids growing up in the New York area, the airing of King Kong on syndicated television each Thanksgiving was a bona fide holiday tradition. I never quite got the relationship, but you can be damn sure I was glued to the TV every Turkey Day immediately after the big meal to catch this, the granddaddy of all giant monster flicks.

And that is why this week's Retro Review is for Merian C. Cooper and Ernest B. Schoedsack's timeless 1933 masterpiece.

It is almost impossible to fully imagine the kind of impact this film must have had for movie audiences at the time. Virtually nothing like this had ever been seen before, and the sheer spectacle of it cannot be overstated. In our own age of overdone CGI effects blockbusters, some may find it quaint--yet for my money, the skill with which this movie is executed, particularly form a technical standpoint, has always been and continues to be breathtaking.

Naturally, the true star here is Willis O'Brien, the genius responsible for pioneering stop-motion animation in film, and the man who brought the Eighth Wonder of the World to life. Kong is a living, breathing character, with pathos and depth of personality. He is brought to life in a way few animated characters ever have been, before or since.

The scenes with the monster are all pure joy to watch. His encounters with other fantastical creatures on Skull Island, in particular, stand out. One can't help but get the impression, watching something like the legendary battle with the T-Rex, that the filmmakers were profoundly confident in their work, and so wanted to showcase it as strongly as possible. The attention to detail is staggering, especially when we consider that the labor involved far exceeds anything undertaken in the field of CGI today. It should also be mentioned that the fine work of Hollywood sound effects man extraordinaire Murray Spivack goes a long way toward bringing these creatures to life as well.

The acting is a bit stilted, even by early 1930s standards (when stage-style delivery was still often the norm), but after all, we're not here to watch the actors. Nevertheless, it needs to be pointed out that Robert Armstrong is magnificent as the master showman/filmmaker/entrepreneur Carl Denham. His awesomeness is only further highlighted in the wake of the catastrophically bad performance of the hideously miscast Jack Black in Peter Jackson's well-intentioned yet disappointing 2005 remake.

And then there's Fay Wray. Although she would never again attain the level of prominence this role gave her, she will forever be etched into the annals of Hollywood immortality as Ann Darrow, the stunning "Beauty" to Kong's "Beast". Her screen presence is truly remarkable, exuding a certain aura that only comes from the demure and ethereal leading ladies of this era. It should also be mentioned that the gal could scream like a champ, and manages to get across an impressive amount of understated sexual charisma during her scenes with her decidedly wooden and uncharismatic leading man, Bruce Cabot.

Max Steiner, the go-to guy for Hollywood film scores during much of the 1930s and 1940s, provides one of his absolute gems for this film. Particularly memorable is the plaintive motif I like to call "Kong's Theme", which Kong fans will instantly recognize when they hear it. A simple melody, it nevertheless puts over the tragedy of the monster so very effectively.

But once again, it's the special effects that are the stars of this film. Decades before Lucas and Speilberg put the concept of special effects movies on the map, here is this 1933 black and white film that still has the power to dazzle with some incredible set pieces. The Stegosaurus; the log scene; the destruction of the native village; the New York rampage; and of course, that iconic Empire State Building battle with the bi-planes.

What a testament it is to the work of Cooper, Schoedsack and O'Brien that we feel so deeply for this creature by the time he's gunned down at the end. Watching him fight off those fighter pilots, who can help rooting for the big guy? And seeing him take bullet after bullet, desperately hanging on all the while as his life slips away, gets me every time. Very rarely has a CGI creation moved me to this degree.

You don't need me to tell you that King Kong is a classic--perhaps the classic of golden age genre cinema--but I can tell you that I definitely rediscovered that fact today, as I showed it to my kids, nieces and nephews on DVD to continue the tradition I myself enjoyed as a child. Long live Kong, the Eighth Wonder of the World.

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