No sane person can dispute the incredible craftsmanship of 1933’s King Kong … just as no sane person can hold its sequel, The Son of Kong, at any point near that level.

Directed by Ernest B. Schoedsack (later to helm the 1949 Kong imitator Mighty Joe Young, this brief, lame, poorly acted follow-up seems incredibly rushed, which may explain the sheer amount of padding in the front half. The flimsy story has Denham (Robert Armstrong, 1932’s The Most Dangerous Game), now penniless due to that whole Empire State Building fiasco, being suckered in to a return expedition to Kong Island. Along the way, he picks up a banjo-strummin’ carnival hussy (Helen Mack, 1935’s She), who is a poor substitute for Fay Wray.

As soon as they set foot on the island, the crew comes across some ooga-booga natives, a giant bear, a couple of dinosaurs and ultimately a hungry sea serpent. Oh, and of course, Son of Kong, whose white fur makes him look like the first cousin of the Abominable Snowman in that Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer cartoon. He’s well-animated, but needlessly comical.

This Kong is friendly from the get-go, posing no threat to the humans, but the stereotypical Chinese cook — in fact, that’s the character’s name: Chinese cook! — carries a kitchen machete just in case. Lil’ Kong protects the gang and shows them some treasure before drowning in a flood. Ain’t life a bitch? —Rod Lott

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