Monkey love

I went to see King Kong last night, and it’s that rare thing: a three-hour film that doesn’t suck (although it could easily have lost half an hour towards the beginning). The CGI’s great, the fight scenes are top-notch, and the only thing that marred it for me was the frequent vertigo-inducing camerawork.

Peter Jackson is very fond of showing the view from very, very high-up places, which isn’t a lot of fun when you’re terrified of heights. The rational bit of your brain knows that you’re looking at a picture, but the primal scaredy-cat bit of your brain is going “AAAAGH! AAAAAGH! AAAAAGH!” throughout the film.

Oh, and close your eyes in the Spider Pit scene if you’re scared of creepy crawlies.

On a related note, I’m becoming increasingly convinced that the 12A certificate (which Kong has) is a bad idea. There’s some pretty nasty stuff in the movie, which clearly scared the utter crap out of the six-year-old a few rows in front (whose parents were nowhere to be seen; presumably they’d dumped the wean in the cinema and then spent the night in the bar).