Queen Kong
Reviewed by Edward Larsen Terkelsen

UK/France/West Germany/Italy, PG, 87 m, 1976
Directed by Frank Agrama. Stars Robin Askwirth, Rula Lenska, Valerie Leon, et al.

Folks who enjoy ZAZ movies or the British Carry On series will probably enjoy Queen Kong, a thriftily budgeted King Kong send-up from the UK. It’s kind of funny, at least when it sticks to goofing on King Kong, Jaws, and other bits of popular culture, but when it reaches for social satire, it’s groaningly didactic. Dino De Laurentiis, the producer of the 1976 version of King Kong, didn’t see the humor in any of it; he threatened the partnering production houses of Cine Art Produzione and Dexter Films with the mother of all lawsuits. Not wanting to endure the expense of a lengthy court battle, producer Virgilio De Blasi and his associates, who originally aimed for a release date that coincided with that of King Kong’s, quickly kowtowed to De Laurentiis’ pack of bloodsucking lawyers and cancelled Queen Kong’s tour of the world’s multiplexes. If they had been moneyed enough to fight De Laurentiis, they probably would have taken him down, but that’s showbiz: money talks and bullshit walks. And Queen Kong took a very long walk indeed. In fact, it languished in obscurity for over twenty-five years until it was resurrected in the States on DVD by Retro Media. That’s hardly a reason to unfurl the flag and do the Funky Chicken, but if you’ve had your fill of the daily grind and need a quick pick-me-up, Queen Kong might fit the bill. It has a messy style reminiscent of early Woody Allen pictures and more dumb gags per minute than an episode of “Monty Python’s Flying Circus.”

The story of Queen Kong is the same as King Kong, save for a scatty feminist slant and a blissful, song-filled finale. Rula Lenska (the VO5 Shampoo girl) plays Luce Habit (!), a movie director searching for the ideal male to star in her jungle epic. On the streets of London, she catches sight of a faintly effeminate toe-head (Rubin Askwirth) who dresses like a hippie and behaves like Dim from A Clockwork Orange. When he smiles, a heavenly choir comes up and sunlight reflects blindingly off of his crooked teeth. Luce has found her man. She watches, her eyes wide with adoration, as he enters an antique store and snatches a poster of the original King Kong. (We can’t figure out why he wants it so badly; it’s a worthless reprint.) The shopkeeper catches up to him a few doors down and threatens to turn him over to the bobbies, but Luce steps in and spares the half-assed pilferer from getting punked in the hoosegow by springing for the item. Some time later over cocktails, she learns that his name is Ray Fay (get it?) and that he has all the horse sense of a pet rock. She promises to make him a big star, but when he fails to respond enthusiastically to her offer, she slips him a mickey. He passes out and awakens upon Luce’s boat, The Liberated Lady, which is headed for the African isle of Lazanga Where They Do The Konga. Once there, Ray is kidnapped by a tribe of bikini-clad hotties who want to sacrifice him to their god, a 30-50 foot tall female gorilla referred to reverently as Queen Kong. Ray is presented to the ape inside of a huge cake, which sits on a picnic table umpteen stories high. “You can’t eat me,” Ray screams, “I’m Jewish! I’m Irish! I’m black!” When his plea falls on deaf ears, he continues, “I’m a leper! I’m a Jewish, black, Irish leper!” Of course, Kong doesn’t consume the fellow; she falls madly in love with him. And after defending her new pint-sized beau from various prehistoric puppets, Ray develops amorous feelings for her, too. Luce and her all-female crew eventually capture the beast, and then tow her back to England to star in her own freak show. (One of the ticket buyers is Queen Elizabeth II, played by the uncanny Jeannette Charles. Charles has made a career out of impersonating Her Majesty, and her many film appearances include Austin Powers in Goldmember, European Vacation, and The Naked Gun: From the Files of Police Squad!). Predictably, Kong breaks free of her binds, runs amok through the streets of London, climbs atop Big Ben, and has it out with some police helicopters. The action is covered in a live telecast, and Ray uses this as an opportunity to beg the powers-that-be to cut his hairy lady some slack. His teary-eyed appeal turns into a foam-mouthed diatribe about how woman is the nigger of the world or something, and this brings on a cause célèbre as throngs of feminazis take to the streets and wave signs in support of Kong. The police force (seemingly made up of nothing but quivering eunuchs) gives in to the protestors, and Queenie is retuned to her homeland. Ray comes along; he just can’t quit her. 

The SPFX in Queen Kong are atrocious, but this kind of frivolous material deserves no better. I wish Ivan Reitman had considered a similarly junky approach when he made Ghostbusters; the movie’s cutting-edge effects seemed out of step with its throwaway humor. Queen Kong is a lot less sophisticated than Ghostbusters, but its slob aesthetic makes it more accessible, more human. The gags are of the scatological, Animal House variety, and while many fall flat (such as Kong destroying a theatre marquee that’s advertising a Ronald Reagan film festival), more than a few made me laugh out loud. I also enjoyed the musical numbers, which were composed and performed by some group called Pepper. But everything goes to the toilet when Queen Kong sounds a battle cry for women who’ve been “subjugated to the whims of man with no consideration for her own personal self-expression.” Of course, I don’t buy into any of that feminist bilge; Gloria Steinem and her bra-burning, man-hating ilk have sold their sisters a bill of goods, leaving them stressed out and unsure of their place in society. (And don’t even get me started on what women’s lib has done to the nuclear family.) But it makes no sense for Queen Kong to stick it to the chauvinists; after all, it’s a bunch of leggy chicks that abduct and exploit the stupid, ugly, reeking, graceless, horny ape. (You know, she just might be the perfect symbol for girl power after all.) But as repulsive as Queen Kong is, she’s a helluva lot more alluring than Ms. Steinem or, God help us, Molly Yard. 

January 18, 2009

“Queen Kong” Review. © Copyright 2009 by Edward Larsen Terkelsen. All rights reserved.