Congo
(Michael Crichton, 1980)
VS
Congo
(Frank Marshall, 1995)
Talking gorillas. It’s not exactly the most spectacular of ideas for a story. And on top of that, talking gorillas that have been trained to kill people. Okay, well maybe it’s somewhat appealing. And from the mind of one of the greatest suspense writers of the twentieth century, the late Michael Crichton, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, when it comes to Crichton’s 1980 pulp hit, very little. In his typical style, Crichton kicks off with a mysterious death, leaving the reader in a state of shock and wondering what the heck just happened, only to leave us in complete pain-staking suspense as we are introduced to our main players (in this case a power-hungry geologist and a rather lovely young anthropologist and his “talking” gorilla), and solidly set in the science behind what is to come.
Congo tells the tale of a rescue expedition to the lost city of Zinj, the original mine of King Soloman, somewhere in the heart of the Congolese jungle, where a group of modern day diamond hunters have succumb to a mysterious predator, believed to be a new species of grey gorilla. Leading the expedition is the brilliant but emotionally defunct Karen Ross, a young geologist who cares only for her own career. By her side is the adorable Dr Peter Elliot, who, with his gorilla Amy, a gifted individual who can “talk” using over six hundred different signs, provide the main emotive narrative of the story. With them in their quest is the renowned “Great White Hunter” Captain Munro; a cigar-smoking and moustachioed adventurer who harks strongly back to his inspiration, Allan Quartermaine.
Of course Crichton’s talent is not in his characters, but in his ability to weave together science and story-telling in a both believable and entrancing fashion, giving the reader not only a tense and exciting adventure, but the feeling of being really quite clever simply by having picked up the book.
But these aspects of the narrative have clearly been forgotten when it comes to Frank Marshall’s 1995 film version of the novel, one which only mirrors its inspiration in name and the concept of the gorilla society.
Changing the motives and personalities of both Elliot and Ross, and adding the bizarre and entirely unnecessary Herkermer Homolka (Tim Curry, in possibly his worst role, and indeed worst accent, to date), the writers of Congo manage to utterly undermine the story, making it, quite frankly, dull as old dishwater.
Gone is the science and adventure, replaced by some terrible performances by leads Laura Linney and Dylan Walsh, and some gadawful gorilla puppets who look, quite honestly, like a Gremlin has mated with an old sock. Considering the visual wonders of Crichton’s most famous work, Jurassic Park, made the previous year, it is rather astounding at just how poor these creatures look. Not even the wonderful Ernie Hudson (Ghostbusters, Oz) as Captain Munroe manages to save the day.
Congo is cinematic proof that messing too much with something that works will inevitably cause a meltdown. Whilst Crichton’s book will remain forever one of his finest works, the film is so terrible that I cannot even banish it to the B-Movie Basement; it’s just too pants. Crichton’s Congo is as rare a find as a blue diamond, or a new species of ape. Marshall’s is monkey poo.
Book – 5 Stars
Film – 0.5 Stars
(Michael Crichton, 1980)
VS
Congo
(Frank Marshall, 1995)
Talking gorillas. It’s not exactly the most spectacular of ideas for a story. And on top of that, talking gorillas that have been trained to kill people. Okay, well maybe it’s somewhat appealing. And from the mind of one of the greatest suspense writers of the twentieth century, the late Michael Crichton, what could possibly go wrong?
Well, when it comes to Crichton’s 1980 pulp hit, very little. In his typical style, Crichton kicks off with a mysterious death, leaving the reader in a state of shock and wondering what the heck just happened, only to leave us in complete pain-staking suspense as we are introduced to our main players (in this case a power-hungry geologist and a rather lovely young anthropologist and his “talking” gorilla), and solidly set in the science behind what is to come.Congo tells the tale of a rescue expedition to the lost city of Zinj, the original mine of King Soloman, somewhere in the heart of the Congolese jungle, where a group of modern day diamond hunters have succumb to a mysterious predator, believed to be a new species of grey gorilla. Leading the expedition is the brilliant but emotionally defunct Karen Ross, a young geologist who cares only for her own career. By her side is the adorable Dr Peter Elliot, who, with his gorilla Amy, a gifted individual who can “talk” using over six hundred different signs, provide the main emotive narrative of the story. With them in their quest is the renowned “Great White Hunter” Captain Munro; a cigar-smoking and moustachioed adventurer who harks strongly back to his inspiration, Allan Quartermaine.
Of course Crichton’s talent is not in his characters, but in his ability to weave together science and story-telling in a both believable and entrancing fashion, giving the reader not only a tense and exciting adventure, but the feeling of being really quite clever simply by having picked up the book.
But these aspects of the narrative have clearly been forgotten when it comes to Frank Marshall’s 1995 film version of the novel, one which only mirrors its inspiration in name and the concept of the gorilla society.
Changing the motives and personalities of both Elliot and Ross, and adding the bizarre and entirely unnecessary Herkermer Homolka (Tim Curry, in possibly his worst role, and indeed worst accent, to date), the writers of Congo manage to utterly undermine the story, making it, quite frankly, dull as old dishwater.
Gone is the science and adventure, replaced by some terrible performances by leads Laura Linney and Dylan Walsh, and some gadawful gorilla puppets who look, quite honestly, like a Gremlin has mated with an old sock. Considering the visual wonders of Crichton’s most famous work, Jurassic Park, made the previous year, it is rather astounding at just how poor these creatures look. Not even the wonderful Ernie Hudson (Ghostbusters, Oz) as Captain Munroe manages to save the day.
Congo is cinematic proof that messing too much with something that works will inevitably cause a meltdown. Whilst Crichton’s book will remain forever one of his finest works, the film is so terrible that I cannot even banish it to the B-Movie Basement; it’s just too pants. Crichton’s Congo is as rare a find as a blue diamond, or a new species of ape. Marshall’s is monkey poo.
Book – 5 Stars
Film – 0.5 Stars
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