There are many windows on a train at night. Out of each, you might see a glimpse of a city, a face, a scene. But the rushing movement takes each away. The action limits your capacity to dwell. Whatever catches your eye, you are held fast to the journey.

The characters in Kong are on such a train. They are confronted by mortal crises. They are surrounded by moral dilemmas. But in each moment is the action which carries them past. I think that this is a strength. It keeps the story pure. If any one character were to grapple with a problem, discuss it, analyze. They would anchor the entire train, and it would turn the film into a train wreck of dialogue. The response of action to each crisis, and action for each dilemma, prevents this. Which is good, because the central conceit is so delicate that without this protection we would not be held fast to it.

“And lo, the beast looked upon the face of beauty. And it stayed its hand from killing. And from that day, it was as one dead.”