The world’s most notorious ape returns to the screen in Kong: Skull Island, the latest reboot of the 1933 classic that first introduced us to the jumbo-sized simian. But this time around, unlike in the original, or the remakes that have followed in the years since, Kong gets to stay put on terra familiar: instead of having him rampaging down crowded New York City streets or clambering willy-nilly over iconic landmarks the way we’ve come to expect, the new film is set almost entirely on the titular island that comprises the big guy’s home turf. But while this most recent iteration of the story, directed by Jordan Vogt-Roberts (The Kings of Summer), might boast in terms of visual scale and sophistication—Kong himself has never looked better, for one—it lacks in story and tonal coherence. Skull Island is a bit all over the place: unable to decide whether it wants to be grim or playful, poetic or hokey, and laying waste to considerable acting talent in the process. 

It’s 1973, and America has just announced the end of its involvement in an increasingly unpopular war in Vietnam. But it’s a different sort of war that has preoccupied scientist and explorer Bill Randa (John Goodman), whom we see striding into a senator’s office in Washington DC, determined to convince the politician to support and fund a rather unconventional expedition to a mysterious South Pacific island. See, Randa has reason to believe that the island—caged in by a perpetual, unmoving storm system that has dissuaded previous mapping attempts, and shaped ominously like a skull—is home to a great many prehistoric life forms that the civilized world cannot as yet even imagine, life forms that, if left unsupervised and uncontrolled, could very well decide, one fine day, to expand their horizons and reclaim the earth, crushing humans underfoot. 

Approval secured, a team is hastily assembled for the mission: including a British army officer and jungle expert(Tom Hiddleston), an “anti-war” photographer (Brie Larson), two scientists (Jing Tian and Corey Hawkins), and a gaggle of US soldiers, fresh out of ‘Nam and yet to shed their fatigues or guns, led by a clearly-unhinged lieutenant (Samuel L Jackson). Flying into the island is an expectedly treacherous experience, especially since it means an immediate run-in with our none-too-cuddly primate, who tears the aircrafts apart like they were made of paper, and effectively splits the team up. As they crawl across the island looking for an escape, these now smaller groups will encounter even more ancient terrors of the likes they’ve never before seen, each forced to make up their minds about where they stand when it comes to the battle between man’s arrogance and nature’s inexorability.

Skull Island definitely comes up trumps with its special effects and overall production design, surpassing even the 2005 Peter Jackson interpretation on this count—until now the most visually striking Kong film to be made—an indication of the speed at which CGI technology evolves in the seemingly endless quest for more verisimilitude and viscerality. The gargantuan fauna on the island has been rendered in impressive detail, not least our protagonist—now bipedal and ever more agile for it. The film is most interesting when we’re watching some crazy (and, on occasion, super graphic) monster-on-monster action, imaginatively choreographed and animated fights that litter the second half. 

If only such attention had been lavished on the cardboard humans who sleepwalk through the film—whom we learn little to nothing about, and who presumably only exist to give mouth to clunky pop-philosophy clichés and the odd joke. A shame, of course, considering there’s more than enough thespian potential here to mine—what with the likes of Hiddleston, Larson, Goodman and Jackson (and John C Reilly in a cameo) being roped in. Instead, Hiddleston and Larson are perilously dull; Jackson’s performance stinks of repetition; and Reilly is just camp personified. Goodman might be the only one who strikes the right tone, but he’s not given much to work with. And Jing, Hawkins and the rest of the disposable others that crowd the bill have even less to do—after a time, you can’t be bothered keeping track of who’s been killed off and who’s left standing, they just don’t matter.

One also wonders why exactly the filmmakers decided to set the story in this particular period—rather than going for, say, the 30s of the original, or making the most of the clean slate to give the story a modern-day makeover. The choice feels rather arbitrary and superficial, because Skull Island doesn’t have much to say about the specifics of its time, despite all that was happening back then. It throws out the odd line about war and the environment and the like, but only perfunctorily, not interested in taking it much further; getting to splash out on the retro memorabilia and derivative classic-rock soundtrack—more suited to an out-and-out parody of Vietnam war movies like Tropic Thunder than this—appear to have played a far more decisive role in the matter.

This kind of poorly-justified and thoughtlessly-erected remake just chips away at whatever potential the material might have had. Vogt-Roberts and his collaborators needed more clarity on which direction they wanted to take things: if it was a sombre political or environmental allegory they wanted to peddle, they should have dug much, much deeper into these themes; and if they were more inclined to put up a goofy-fun action-adventure, they should’ve gone the whole hog by all means. But this film hangs awkwardly somewhere in the middle, devoid of personality, and just kind of….well, pointless.

Skull Island just goes to show that as increasingly fine-tuned as our digital tools might become in the days to come, the “magic” of cinema—the sense of wonder the medium can evoke at its best—is more than just about slick surfaces.