Six Word Sunday

Sundays were made for power naps!

On the Completion of Edison's First Trip Around the Sun

Toward the end of last July, the two most awesome cats in the world came into my life.  I adopted two kittens, both of them Siamese/tiger mixes, from the parents of a good friend who needed to place them in a good home.  At only eight and four weeks old, respectively, when they arrived in Ruttville, Edison and Amadeus were so tiny the could share a standard-sized cat carrier with room to spare.

They earned their names immediately: Edison proved to be the thinker, the more inventive of the two, and remains so now.  It's fascinating to watch him as he observes, learns, and figures things out, from how to best position himself for sneak attacks upon his younger brother to how to pry open the cupboard door and find the packet of cat treats hidden within.  Amadeus was from the start the more vocal cat, mewing out melodies as he explored his new digs, and even now chirps and yowls and sings happily on a regular basis.

I call them brothers, even though they are not from the same litter.  In fact, Edison's first year on the planet began very roughly.  You can see in early pictures of him evidence of a nasty wound on the top of his head, which was part of the reason he needed a new home.  Edison was an orphan, and my friend's folks owned the cat who was Amadeus' mother.  Since she had just recently had the litter that included Amadeus, they took Edison in hoping the mother cat would adopt him as part of her new brood.  Unfortunately, in cat development, especially at such an early stage, four weeks of difference in age is apparently an unbridgeable gap.  Not only did the mother reject Edison, but she saw him as a threat to her kittens and attacked him.

I was finally ready for a new pet, having had to put down a wonderful Siamese named Napoleon a few years earlier due to kidney failure.  My friend posted Edison's picture on Facebook and I immediately shot her a message saying I'd be happy to give him a home.  When I spoke with her mother to make the arrangements for cat delivery, her mother asked if I'd be interested in a second kitten as well, and sent me Amadeus' picture.  I was immediately sold - but more on his tale in about four weeks...

Edison is mostly Siamese, but over the past year as he has grown, his coloring has darkened and clear tiger-stripe markings have become evident.  He still has the darker ears, nose, tail, and feet of a Siamese, but as you can see in his then and now pictures, there are times when he appears facially to have the markings of white Bengal tiger.  His Siamese side means his personality is somewhat aloof, but he is also the self-appointed guardian of the household and will immediately come over to greet - and inspect - anyone who comes through the door.  Early on, he taught himself to play fetch, either with a wadded up ball of paper or with a small stuffed mouse which he often carries around with him when it's not carefully hidden out of paw's reach under the sofa; at times I'll be sitting at the computer writing and will feel a paw at my ankle, and there will be Edison, having brought me that mouse or a paper ball he hid somewhere, and look at me as if to say, "OK, it's time to play. What are you waiting for? Throw it!" And lose himself in the joy of chasing and bringing back his prize for as much as an hour.


That tiny ball of fluff who could share a cat carrier with his brother is one year old today.  He's now grown to almost twelve pounds, and is quite the regal feline, but he can sure make me laugh when he momentarily forgets himself and lets the kitten still in him come to the surface.  Is it coincidence that I have not had nearly so many battles with my personal demons which I've discussed on this blog in the past since Edison and Amadeus have been in my world?  I think not.

So, for a kitten who, in his first 8 weeks on the planet had been orphaned, attacked, and had been moved to three different homes, Edison has turned out to be one cool cat.  Happy Birthday, my Friend.  I'm glad your third home turned out to be the charm!

Now Hear This!

Memorial Day weekend is drawing to a close, which means summer is all but upon us, though recent temperatures around these parts would have you believing otherwise.  Still, you're going to be needing some new tunes to be blaring out of your car stereo while cruising with the top down, or bopping to poolside with your friends, or whatever it is you kids do in the summer these days.

It's a big wide Internet out there, and it's full of tunes.  Some are good, some are bad; some you can acquire legitimately, some...well, not so much.  It's enough to make your head spin! Friend, I'm here to help.  I've done the hard part - I've separated the wheat from the chaff and come up with a list of 10 more excellent musical curios for your musical curio shelf...er, iPod.  These aural treats are not presented in any particular order, and I am receiving no compensation of any kind from the artists, other than the sheer enjoyment of listening to their creations. Almost all of these are very recent, but some are not. That's just the way it is. Let's dig in!



Nikki Corvette & the Romeos
New music from Nikki Corvette is always cause for celebration, and her first single with her current backing group ranks among her best ever!  Fresh off a European tour, Nikki and her Romeos deliver two killer sides. "He's Gone" is sixties girl group heaven, straight from the Ronnette's playbook; on the flip (which coulda been an A-side itself), Nikki introduces us to her band in her classic bubblegum punk style.  Physical copies of the single are limited to 300 and going fast - get yerself over to Bandcamp and at least get the tunes!



Roomrunner
There is something very cool happening musically in Baltimore these days.  There has developed quite a collection of local bands creating some pretty incredible music.  In previous posts I've mentioned bands like The Fishnet Stalkers and Plurals.  Now let me mention Roomrunner, whose first full-length release, Ideal Cities, is out now and available on Bandcamp.  Roomrunner's nods towards the grunge forefathers, especially Nirvana, are evident immediately, but don't kid yourself: these guys can thrash as well as anyone.  The lead track, "Bait Car", comes careening at you like Big Black with a searing headache. You can either grab on and take the ride of your life or be swept up in the wake of the passing maelstrom.  Great stuff!



Ed Schrader's Music Beat
Did I mention there is something cool happening in the Baltimore music scene? Here's yet another example.  Ed Schrader pounds out the music beat on his stand-up floor tom while Devlin Rice plays bass. Together they make a lot of racket, but find all kinds of sonic layers and variety from those two instruments.  Every bit as intelligent as fellow duo They Might Be Giants, Ed and Devlin's songs lean sonically more towards Math The Band or Half Japanese.  Check out "Radio Eyes" for details:



Imelda May
Until recently, I had missed the boat on Ireland's incredible Imelda May.  A few weeks ago a friend sent me a clip of her performing her debut single "Johnny Got A Boom Boom," a wild rockabilly ride that caught my immediate attention, and another clip of her crooning "Cry Me A River" in a perfect torch-singer pout that blew me away.  I immediately sought out more, and found the wonderful "Psycho," in which Ms. May comes as close to being Wanda Jackson as anyone not named Wanda Jackson ever could.  Behold:



Yes Mistress
Out of Long Beach, Yes Mistress may be the best rawk-n-roll band with the worst band name going these days.  But oh, man are they awesome!  "Do You Think I'm Satan?" is the best of a handful of truly fantastic tunes these guys have recorded (check out their Soundcloud page for more, including the excellent "Gunna Get Arrested").  Turn it up loud enough and you'll actually hear your own head go ka-THUNK!


Yes Mistress - "Do You Think I'm Satan... by BlankTV

Hank Wood & The Hammerheads
Sleazy, scuzzy, lo-fi garage punk still has a place in this world, and Hank Wood & the Hammerheads had the market cornered for a brief moment last year with the release of their debut (and, apparently, swan song) LP, Go Home! "It's Hard On The Street" epitomizes their growling, grumbling, ear-scraping sound:



Sonic Scream
Grungy psychedelia from Hertfordshire, UK.  Sonically somewhere between Mudhoney and MX-80 Sound, with a six-song EP released this past August (Without A Sound), Sonic Scream offer fuzzy guitar riffs, chugga-chugga rhythms and stonerific lyrics, all of which would have been equally at home in 1968 as 2013.  "PowerfuzzeD" is my pick of their current litter, and not just because the D at the end is capitalized...



Gin Wigmore
The third in my current triumvirate of post-Amy Winehouse female singers who reinterpret the old and make it not only new, but entirely their own (Gemma Ray and the earlier-mentioned Imelda May being the other two), Gin Wigmore may be the most stunning of the lot.  With an incredibly sexy, bluesy snarl and a swagger beyond her 26 years, Gin has been collecting accolades for some time in her native New Zealand.  It's only recently that she's getting any attention here in the States, but with cuts like "Kill Of The Night," people should definitely take notice.



Persian Claws
Finally, Persian Claws have their self-titled debut album out - limited edition though it may be.  If you're quick enough, you can order it through their label, Musica Para Locos Records, by sending them a Facebook message. At least, that's how I got my copy (complete with autographed postcard of Dee Claw - awesomeness!), and it has basically dominated the turntable since arriving.  Spinning a sunshine-y surf-punk-a-go-go sound, Persian Claws have slowly amassed an album's worth of amazingly good music.  Was hard to pick just one sample track, but "Yours Sincerely" gives you a good idea of the fun you're in for:



TV Girl 
"She Smokes In Bed," the new single from TV Girl, is one of those songs that that wheedles it's way into your head and sticks there, insisting that you listen to it again and again.  With a chugging melody and an irresistible "ba-ba-ba, ba-ba-pa-da-da-da-da" chorus, the music washes over you in pleasant waves, vaguely reminiscent of Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark at their best.  Definitely eager to hear more from this band!

Six Word Sunday

Some people just don't catch on.

REPOST - New Wave for the New Week #18: Divinyls

Sad news today that Christina Amphlett, former lead singer of Divinyls, passed away at age 53 from complications of breast cancer and multiple sclerosis.  In her honor, here is a repost of the New Wave For the New Week entry I wrote for Divinyls on July 13, 2009.  R.I.P., Christina.
______________________________________________________

Cover of Desperate

Some bands are fated to toil away in obscurity making wonderful music, to have their only taste of mainstream success come in the form of a song so unbefitting it's almost comically sad. Such a fate was that of Australia's Divinyls.

To most people, if they even remember that band name at all, the one song that they know is the shock-hit "I Touch Myself," which was their only visit to the American record charts, climbing all the way to #4. It's an OK, if too-purposefully titillating, single - but for that to be all Divinyls would be remembered for is a disservice to a solid band with a number of very good records under their belt.

Based from the start around the duo of Christina Amphlett and Mark McEntee, Divinyls first made noise in their native land around 1980. Their first release, an EP of music created for the movie Monkey Grip, included two wonderful singles. "Boys in Town" and "Only Lonely" got the band noticed quickly, both charting in the top 20 in Australia. Both songs were included on their debut album, Desperate, the following year, along with their third single and this week's entry, "Science Fiction."

The band continued their Australian success with two more albums and a few more charting singles, including "Pleasure and Pain" (1985) and "Hey Little Boy" (a 1988 reworking of The Syndicate of Sound's 1966 garage stomper "Hey Little Girl").

Despite their growing reputation and a fair amount of play on MTV, their breakthrough seemed like it would never happen until that 1991 smash. Another record followed with little publicity, and Amphlett and McEntee went their separate ways.

This week, enjoy Divinyls as they should have been remembered with their entry in the NW4NW series, "Science Fiction," which was named one of the top 30 Australian songs of all time by APRA (Australian Performing Rights Association).

Harry

For me, the voice of Harry Kalas is what a Major League Baseball game is supposed to sound like.  As a kid growing up in the mid-to-late '70s, just starting to learn the Grand Old Game and its rich history, Harry and his Whiteness, Richie Ashburn, were my teachers as well as my fellow Phillies fans.  In the days before every sports broadcaster mimicked the ridiculously hyperbolic ESPN SportsCenter style or did their damnedest to look and sound just like Bob Costas (looking at you, Joe Buck), Kalas stood out among his peers not because he constantly drew attention to himself, but rather because he was clearly a fan who enjoyed the game as much as the fan sitting at home watching or listening to him. He just happened to be a fan blessed with one of the most fantastic voices in broadcasting history.

There was probably no one better suited than Harry to be behind the mike through those many years of awful Phillies teams in the mid-‘70s and late-‘80s.  Somehow he made us feel with each new season – with each new game – that this collection of ragtags and oddballs really could just possibly win. And when they did, no one was happier than Harry. To hear him transform from measured professional play-by-play announcer to overly excited fan as a particularly remarkable play unfolded, you could not help but be swept along for the ride. Harry’s voice would rise sharply in both pitch and volume when reciting his famous home run calls: “Long drive! Deep right center field! Way, way back! It’s outta heeeeeere!”  He became the neighborhood boy on the pick-up field trash-talking the opposing team when one of their batters was whiffed: “Struh-Keem-Out!”  And, he was the grandfather figure to many a fan in his later years, happily crooning his wobbly versions of “High Hopes” in an effort to lift the Phillies to one more win.

It's hard to believe today marks 4 years since we lost Harry, shortly before a game against the Washington Nationals.  There was no one like him, and he is deeply missed.

Annette's Got The Hits

Annette Funicello passed away today at the age of 70, reportedly from complications brought on by the Multiple Sclerosis she has battled since the late 1980's.  It's easy to pigeonhole Annette Funicello as the wholesome teen starlet from a simpler time, and certainly she was that, but even more she was a pop culture phenomenon.  She was the first bona-fide child star of the TV era, as the 12-year-old who outshone even Cubby on the original Mickey Mouse Club in the 1950's; hers is he image that comes first to mind when swinging '60s beach parties are imagined, celebrated, or lampooned; I first knew of her as the kind-of-cool TV mom who made Skippy peanut butter sandwiches for all the neighborhood kids in those 1970s commercials. She was the model that corporate entertainment still tries to emulate when concocting each next teen idol: she sang, she danced, she acted, she did TV and she did movies, only she did it all without being a prefab creation.  She had a natural ease in front of the camera and real talent.

It may surprise you to learn that my record collection includes two Annette Funicello albums (!), both from 1964. Annette On Campus is a definite oddity, in which she leads two separate singing groups, The Wellingtons and The All American Chorus, cheerleader-style through a collection of the era's college fight songs; Annette at Bikini Beach is a fun romp through a number of (appropriately enough) beach-y tunes, including the excellent semi-title track "Bikini Beach" and a personal all-time favorite "The Monkey's Uncle," on which she joins forces with The Beach Boys in an absolutely irresistible hook-laden pop confection (bubblegum music for the pre-bubblegum era?).  Sure it's true that I do not own these unironically, but part of Annette's charm was that she always seemed to understand just how corny the material she was regularly handed to perform was, even in her most earnest moments.   

In the early 1980s, before they doubled the d and replaced the c with a k, California punks Red Cross penned a tribute of sorts to the ultimate girl-next-door.  In honor of Ms. Funicello's passing, I offer their surf-punk homage, as well as "The Monkey's Uncle."  I think you'll find by listening to them back-to-back, though they were created in different generations, in the pantheon of teenage goofy fun they are surprisingly not too far apart!

R.I.P. Annette.

Gidget Goes To Hell

Finally, we've got some sunshine around these parts and - dare I say it - warm(ish) weather! With the last snowfall as recent as two weeks ago, it was very nice to actually go jacketless this afternoon. Baseball season is underway, and summer is right around the corner.  WOO HOO!

Summer brings with it it's own soundtrack, and we all have our favorite summer songs.  I was overjoyed a couple days ago to find - finally - uploaded to YouTube the impossibly rare video clip for Suburban Lawns' 1980 debut single and New Wave summer classic, "Gidget Goes To Hell."  Directed by Jonathan Demme (!), the clip was aired during the infamous 1980 season of Saturday Night Live.

Suburban Lawns have always been a favorite of mine (click here to read their entry in this blog's old New Wave For The New Week series), and while the actual single has been in my collection for many years, I literally had not seen this video in, well, three decades before stumbling across it last week.  Here it is for your listening and viewing pleasure, every bit as wonderful as I remembered it. Turn it up and welcome the summer!

Now Hear This!

I just looked at my calendar this morning and realized that we're almost halfway through March already! Jeez, where does the time go? It's been awhile since the last round-up of good music you ought to be listening to. Figured it's time to catch you up with what's been blaring from the speakers around Ruttville lately.

It's a big wide Internet out there, and it's full of tunes.  Some are good, some are bad; some you can acquire legitimately, some...well, not so much.  It's enough to make your head spin! Friend, I'm here to help.  I've done the hard part - I've separated the wheat from the chaff and come up with a list of 10 excellent musical curios for your musical curio shelf...er, iPod.  These aural treats are not presented in any particular order, and I am receiving no compensation of any kind from the artists, other than the sheer enjoyment of listening to their creations. Almost all of these are very recent, but some are not. That's just the way it is. Let's dig in!

Grumpy Old Punks
Punk's not dead; it's just old and grumpy.  Also, wickedly funny when served up by LouB, KRoy, Brian, and Guzda, collectively the Grumpy Old Punks. A grand old party perhaps (with the emphasis on old!), but this GOP seriously rocks.  They don't take the easy Weird Al-style parody route; their songs are original and quite solid on their own merits.  These would be killer tracks even if they weren't snarling about their adjustable rate mortgages or wondering where their glasses are.  Two EP's are available, 2011's self-titled debut and last year's Anarchy in the Prostate.  And you must head to their website to catch their as yet unreleased cover of Lady Gaga's "Bad Romance." Yes, you read that right. Now get the hell off my lawn!



GABBA
I am utterly embarrassed to admit that I completely missed these guys in 1999 when their simply astounding Leave Stockholm album was issued, but I am definitely playing catch-up now! The so-obvious-it's-oblivious crossbreeding of ABBA and The Ramones works more often than it flops, although the points at which it doesn't quite gel can be enormously disappointing (hopes were so much higher for their take on "S.O.S." than the results produced.) Still when Bjöey and Anneky harmonize on "Waterloo," you wonder why no one else ever thought of this. Genius!



Compressorhead
The machines have taken over, and as it turns out, they just wanna rock.  Stickboy, Fingers, and Bones form "the world's heaviest metal band," the all-robotic Compressorhead. Whipping through head-thunking covers of AC/DC, Motorhead, and The Ramones, these precision machines are programmed to rock and roll all night and party every day.  Listen up, meatbags!



Shear/Shazar
Regular readers of this li'l ol' blog are likely quite familiar with both halves of this husband-and-wife duo who have released their first official collaboration this year (what took them so long?!?).  If you don't know Jules Shear or Pal Shazar, get thee to Google!  Get yerself some Polar Bears and Slow Children records and get yerself schooled, kiddo! Or, better yet, join me in bopping along to some incredibly literate, deeply touching music that manages to be yearning without being unhappy, and manages to be crunchily hippie-ish without reeking of patchouli and weed.  It's folksy, folk-y, and funky, just like the artists who created it.  Outstanding!



Scott Walker
I discovered the music of the enigmatic and fascinating Scott Walker by happening across the excellent documentary 30 Century Man (find it and watch it!). Walker's story is compelling: he achieved and utterly rejected pop stardom in the early '60s UK, became a troubadour in the tradition of Jacques Brel, cultivated a rather purposeful obscurity, and began creating recordings of highly experimental and personal musical expression. His stunning and unmistakeable baritone may be the only continuity in his career's twisting, turning journey, but his works have inspired and influenced many: Brian Eno, David Bowie, Gavin Friday, and Marc Almond, among others, all show up to praise him in the film. Walker has a new album out, his first in six years, Bish Bosch.  The first single from it, "Epizootics!," is jaw-droppingly good:



Palmyra Delran
In the 1990s, Palmyra Delran headed up all-girl punk band The Friggs. These days, she's a solo act; a girl with a guitar and an attitude and, as of last week, a brand new album, You Are What You Absorb.  The first single from it, "Shut Out," has been being played often and loudly around here lately.  Delran bears more than just a passing sonic and vocal resemblance to the late Paula Pierce of The Pandoras, so you know exactly what you're in for. Delran delivers on this cut; can't wait to hear the rest of the LP!


 
The Electric Mess
With a psychedelic paisley-punk farfisa snarl that brings to mind a chance meeting of The Fuzztones and The Three O'Clock on board a yellow submarine, The Electric Mess burst out of NYC a few years back with the in all ways wonderful "You've Become A Witch." This year, they've damn near topped it with the single "The Girl With The Exploding Dress," from their sophomore album Falling Off The Face Of The Earth.  Awesomely good stuff, sez me!



Orchestral Manoeuvres In The Dark
Also on the list of bands with new albums out - or, in this case, soon to be out - is this pleasant surprise: OMD! Always one of my favorites back in the day, OMD's brand of synthpop was a bit more erudite and sophisticated to my ear than the run-of-the-mill stuff of the early '80s.  Songs like "Electricity," "Joan Of Arc," "Souvenir," and "Telegraph" were constantly on my high-school-era playlist, and even when they moved into the more commercial sound of "Tesla Girls," "If You Leave," and "So In Love," they were always a class act.  And now they're back! Andy McCluskey and Paul Humphries, just like the old days! (Yes, yes, I know, the comeback album was actually three years ago when History Of Modern was released. Jeez, do you hafta spoil all my fun?!?) The first sounds from the forthcoming album, English Electric, could have been happily ensconced in the grooves of 1983's majestic Dazzle Ships, which is a good thing - a damn good thing! Behold:



Lifestyle
Freezepop's The Other Sean T. Drinkwater's other band, Lifestyle, has a couple of new releases out via Bandpage.com. At the end of last year the synthpoppers issued a crisp new seven-song set, Artificial, and in January they gave a properly restored and remastered reissue release to 2005's Adventure. Both are excellent, and will carry you back to 1985 on the backs of glistening synth washes and memories of Simple Minds, Spandau Ballet, and later-era Roxy Music.  But, as with Drinkwater's other other band, Lifestyle isn't a nostalgia act.  Their work is solid and enjoyable pop music - and that's not a crime, right?


The Popdogs
If you don't find yourself smiling and tapping your feet along with The Popdogs' debut Cool Cats For Pop Dogs, you probably want to have your fun meter readjusted.  If there isn't already a genre called Sunshine Power Pop, there needs to be, and The Popdogs need to be filed under it.  They jangle like R.E.M. but wear much brighter colors; their songs are catchy and hummable bits of ephemeral ear candy that seem to evaporate upon arrival yet leave joyful echoes bouncing around your head.  Check out the lead track, "Honest Guy," for proof: 

Happy 80th Birthday, Kong!

Today, my favorite movie of all time turns 80 years old.  Seems hard to believe that it has been eight decades since King Kong made his fateful climb up the side of the Empire State Building with the beautiful Ann Darrow in his hand, only to meet his demise at the hands of a squadron of biplanes.  What is not hard to believe is that the movie has endured, finding new audiences with each successive generation.  It is an incredible film, both in story and in production, and despite the limitations of the era in which it was made, it remains far superior in every way to the attempts to remake it in 1976 and 2005.

King Kong was released on March 2, 1933, in the thick of the Great Depression, and still made over $1.8 million in its initial release (adjusted for inflation, that would be the equivalent of over $300 million today).  In 1938, King Kong became the first movie in history to be re-released; it earned another half million the second time around.

Although often lumped in with the monster movies of its day (Frankenstein and Dracula were only two years old at the time of Kong's release), this is no horror movie.  More than anything, Kong is a story of unrequited love; it just happens that the rejected suitor here is a 24-foot tall gorilla.  If Kong is a monster, it is only because he was forced to be one when kidnapped from his home to be put on display in a world he neither knew nor was capable of understanding.  Had Carl Denham and his crew not been constantly in search of the almighty dollar, Kong would have lived out his days in that prehistoric world hidden behind a giant fence on Skull Island without bothering a soul save the occasional triceratops or an unfortunately wandering native.

The acting is most definitely of the style of the era: stage-heavy, but not stilted. Keep in mind, movies had been silent just six years before; subtlety in delivering lines was not yet well developed among the acting community.  Yet Robert Armstrong nearly steals the movie in the role of Carl Denham.  Yes, he is the heavy who steals Kong away from his paradise, but he is also father figure to Fay Wray's Ann Darrow and narrator for the viewing audience.  Armstrong gives the Denham character a depth that makes him hard to truly dislike.  While he is certainly a money-hungry promoter, he truly cares about his crew, about the young actress he pulled into this adventure, and even about the beast he has inadvertently unleashed in New York City.

It would be easy to dismiss Fay Wray's performance as Ann Darrow as a one-dimensional damsel in distress, but she is a surprisingly strong character when she isn't enfolded in a giant ape's paw.  Yes, she is well-known for her screams throughout the picture (many of which were recorded and added in post-production), but watch the subtleties in her reaction shots, and pay attention to her interaction with the crew of Denham's ship, and especially with her less tall suitor, Jack Driscoll, played by Bruce Cabot.

Driscoll, it turns out, is the one-dimensional character here: he is the stereotypical 1930's guy-who-gets-the-girl. He's got the football team captain looks and spouts the right lines at the right times, but possesses not an ounce of either personality or insight.  Whether it was Cabot's intent to play Driscoll that way or inability to do better, the flatness of our wanna-be hero's presence actually works far better in the film than a charismatic, engaging presence would have.  Nothing should (nor, in truth, could) distract from the true star here.

So much has been written about Willis O'Brien's absolutely astounding special effects given the era in which the film was made that space need not be wasted parroting all of that well-deserved praise here.  All one needs to do is compare the 1933 Kong with the robotic 1976 version and the CGI'd 2005 version to see that a tiny miniature and a stop-motion camera many moons before brought more life and emotion out of Kong than more modern and supposedly more sophisticated technologies did decades later.  Through his facial expressions and body language, you know what Kong is thinking and feeling at every moment.  And if you do not find yourself shedding a tear for Kong at the end, when Denham delivers the film's classic closing line, "It wasn't the planes. It was Beauty killed the beast," you may want to check to see if you actually have a soul.  Of all the characters, it is the wild giant ape who is the most human.

If you have never seen the original King Kong, it is simply a glaring omission from your life experience list that you must correct.  If you can, find the 2005 DVD issue which presents the most complete version of the film available, at a running time of 104 minutes.

Happy 80th birthday, Kong!