Most adult men are just shells designed to contain twelve-year-old boys.
Why else would someone who should have better things to do with his time be bothering about the 1933 Hollywood film King Kong? I’ve probably seen thousands of movies since my first encounter with Kong, including the classics of world cinema: the Bergmans, Fellinis, and Kurosowas. Citizen Kane comes seeping out of my pores.
What, then, is different about King Kong?
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