King Kong’s Cheaper, Drunker Cousin
If King Kong is the majestic alpha gorilla of cinema, A*P*E is the hungover, unemployed cousin who insists he’s “just between jobs” while spilling beer on your couch. Filmed in glorious bargain-bin 3-D, this South Korea–U.S. co-production looks less like a monster movie and more like a dare someone lost in a bar. The plot—what little there is—seems to exist purely to mock Jaws, King Kong, and the patience of anyone who sat through it without throwing their popcorn at the screen.
The Beast With No Budget
Our 36-foot gorilla, the star of the show, lumbers around in a cheap fur suit so stiff it looks like it was bought from a Halloween clearance bin. His special effects “rampage” involves gingerly swatting at helicopters like he’s trying not to break them, and stomping on miniature buildings that cost about as much as a nice dinner for two. The fight scenes—whether with a giant shark or an equally unconvincing python—play out like slow-motion wrestling between two plush toys in a kid’s backyard.
Romance, Journalism, and Questionable Chemistry
Rod Arrants plays Tom Rose, a journalist who spends the movie oscillating between trying to expose the ape’s existence and making out with actress Marilyn Baker (Joanna Kerns), who has the survival instincts of a moth flying into a porch light. Their romance is so wooden it could have been written by the guy building the miniature sets. That’s not to say they don’t have chemistry—they do, but only in the sense that bleach and ammonia also have chemistry.
When in Doubt, Give the Gorilla the Finger
The movie’s most infamous moment—our simian antihero flipping off a helicopter—has been immortalized in bad cinema history. It’s the kind of scene that tells you the filmmakers knew exactly what kind of trash they were making and decided to lean into it. Unfortunately, one middle finger isn’t enough to save the rest of the film from its plodding pace and laughably mismatched tone.
Seoul-Searching in All the Wrong Places
When the ape finally reaches Seoul, it doesn’t so much “terrorize” the city as it gently inconveniences it. The destruction sequences are a mix of badly scaled miniatures and confused extras running in circles. Even the tanks look like they’re trying not to embarrass themselves. By the time the climactic battle arrives, you’re almost rooting for the military to put everyone—audience included—out of their misery.
Final Verdict: More Yawn Than Roar
A*P*E isn’t so much a monster movie as it is a cinematic time capsule of how far a $23,000 budget can be stretched before it snaps. It’s too slow to be exciting, too cheap to be impressive, and too self-aware to be taken seriously. The only thing truly monstrous here is that it somehow made it into theaters. Watch it if you love bad movies, gorilla costumes, and the kind of filmmaking where the middle finger is both a special effect and a statement to the audience.
