Gorillas Prefer Blondes: or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love King Kong
So I'm walking to my morning class today, and as I round a corner I see a huge plume of water spraying up about twenty feet like a secret geyser. Next to it is a rather awkward looking hydraulic shovel kind of digging up clumps of dirt like nothing is wrong. I was half a block away from the excavation site, but I still got wet.
In class our Prof pulled out a secret copy of King Kong sent out to one of the Academy Awards judges. Yeah, we watched Naomi Watts run around a city with doesn't-quite-fit-in Jack Black. Peter Jackson does a convincing depression era New York city, which limited its daily colors to anything pale and limited the night palette to black and yellow. This city is just begging to get smashed up by a monkey. Instead we get Naomi and Black reinacting a scene from Aladdin (moral- it is better to be a whore than steal apples? stealing apples gets you sent to a nightmare island of hellishly improportionate creatures?) and we also get Adrian Brody demonstrating a strong desire to not get wet no matter what the cost... even if that means jumping off a boat and swimming three feet to shore to avoid spending months away on a boat. Then we fast forwarded. A lot. Till we got to the island and no matter what happened, no one shoved a spear through Adrian Brody's God-forsakenly twisted face. My favorite is of course the burly black sailor and his little blonde boy toy friend who get left behind to guard the ship. Father/son style relationship, or Greek style father/son relationship? With sailors like that could you really have it any other way?
So in conclusion... for the bit of King Kong I saw... nothing actually happened, but the costumes were pretty. Also, what the fuck was up with all the slow motion? Like I cared.
After class we walked by the water main again. The spray was directed in a more horizontal pattern, spraying off the walls of its recessed pit. The entire thing was bubbling over with mud and water, which poured down the sidewalk and into the sewers. The huge shovel claw machine just pulled up huge soppy piles of mud. The workers were up past their ankles in mud. Hot.
In class our Prof pulled out a secret copy of King Kong sent out to one of the Academy Awards judges. Yeah, we watched Naomi Watts run around a city with doesn't-quite-fit-in Jack Black. Peter Jackson does a convincing depression era New York city, which limited its daily colors to anything pale and limited the night palette to black and yellow. This city is just begging to get smashed up by a monkey. Instead we get Naomi and Black reinacting a scene from Aladdin (moral- it is better to be a whore than steal apples? stealing apples gets you sent to a nightmare island of hellishly improportionate creatures?) and we also get Adrian Brody demonstrating a strong desire to not get wet no matter what the cost... even if that means jumping off a boat and swimming three feet to shore to avoid spending months away on a boat. Then we fast forwarded. A lot. Till we got to the island and no matter what happened, no one shoved a spear through Adrian Brody's God-forsakenly twisted face. My favorite is of course the burly black sailor and his little blonde boy toy friend who get left behind to guard the ship. Father/son style relationship, or Greek style father/son relationship? With sailors like that could you really have it any other way?
So in conclusion... for the bit of King Kong I saw... nothing actually happened, but the costumes were pretty. Also, what the fuck was up with all the slow motion? Like I cared.
After class we walked by the water main again. The spray was directed in a more horizontal pattern, spraying off the walls of its recessed pit. The entire thing was bubbling over with mud and water, which poured down the sidewalk and into the sewers. The huge shovel claw machine just pulled up huge soppy piles of mud. The workers were up past their ankles in mud. Hot.