Peter Jackson's epic tribute to the 1933 classic "King Kong" is an immediate Academy Award contender. Quite honestly, it was a contender I did not see coming. As much as I like Jackson, if any remake sounded more pointless it had to be this one. The original is sheer perfection, maybe the greatest adventure film of all time, so messing with it, no matter how great a person's love for the material, to me borders perilously close to the idiotic.

As it is, this new “King Kong” is over-the-top, self-indulgent and made by a man whose limitless resources provided him by three monstrously successful “Lord of the Rings” adaptations allows the ability to give into every expensive whim imaginable. This should be a recipe for disaster, maybe one even more heinous than that laughable 1976 disaster with Jessica Lange and Jeff Bridges. But it isn’t, not even remotely, and somehow Jackson’s overflowing passion for his favorite film has translated into the most rigorously entertaining and rousing adventure of the entire year.

I won’t waste time with a full plot synopsis. By this time, I would hope that everyone – no matter what their age – already knows “King Kong” is essentially an inter-species romance between a giant ape and an unknown blonde bombshell actress named Ann Darrow (Naomi Watts). From the wilds of Skull Island to the top of New York’s Empire State Building, this tragic tale set during the heart of the Great Depression is one of classic simplicity. No two ways about it, if this story doesn’t break your heart then it must be made out of two tons of solid stone.

Let’s be clear. I do have a huge problem with this remake clocking in at a bloated 187 minutes while the original managed to tell the same story in a brisk 103. In fact, the first hour in 1933 New York and then at sea on the trade ship Venture, while entertaining, can’t help but feel ungainly and forced. Jackson gives every character their own moment, a scene to bring attention to themselves and only themselves. While the majority of these are nice – Jamie Bell being told the plot machinations of Joseph Conrad’s Heart of Darkness chills the blood – and remind us Jackson isn’t just a man of spectacle but that he’s also remarkably strong with actors, that still doesn’t make them necessary.

But just as things start to feel longish, Jackson and company finally get to Skull Island and any and all bets are suddenly off. Like James Cameron amping up the roller coaster to exhilarating heights with the sci-fi sequel “Aliens,” this director hits the gas peddle full-throttle and then refuses to let up on the pressure. Even more than in his Oscar-winning “Lord of the Rings” trilogy or his New Zealand gross-out classics “Dead-Alive” and “Bad Taste,” Jackson showcases sights and sounds heretofore unseen by cinematic eyes. From the dinosaur battle between Kong and three hungry T-Rex (eat your heart out Speilberg), to a creepy and unsettling pit full of some of the most horrific insects and slugs ever imagined, this island is an astonishing masterpiece of visceral wonderment that completely boggles the mind.

But it is the quiet moments that make this “Kong” king. Darrow uses her vaudevillian skills to melt the giant 25-foot ape’s heart, sharing an evening sunset with him where communication starts to feel like a surreal possibility. Later, after being unleashed upon an unsuspecting Big Apple, Ann sooths the savage beast, reconnecting with him while slip-sliding effervescently across a frozen Central Park pond, as beautiful and sublime a moment as I can ever recall seeing. It all culminates, of course, on the Empire State Building, and as marvelous as this final is it is the look of undying love and devotion passing between ape and human which holds the most value.

For the most part, while this isn’t exactly an actor’s showcase most involved still manage a rather fine, richly shaded performance. Adrien Brody, as unlikely an action hero if there ever was one, cuts a fine, soulful swath as erstwhile writer Jack Driscoll. The aforementioned Bell is sweetly innocent as the youngest member of the Venture’s crew, while both Evan Parke and Thomas Kretschmann are properly rugged as the vessel’s first mate and captain. Only Jack Black disappoints. Playing the overly excitable filmmaker Carl Denham, he just feels out of place inside this piece. At times Black’s bug-eyed lunacy fits the character perfectly, others he’s just too silly to take seriously. It is at the end, however, belting out the film’s classic final line, where he is most wrong, the heartfelt emotion inherent in the words lost deep inside the actor’s crazed off-hand demeanor.

Then there is Naomi Watts. She is the picture’s thunderous heart and its crystalline soul. This is, quite unexpectedly, one of the year’s most glorious performances. What more, Watts, spending most of her time onscreen with a CGI grunting ape, does it almost completely without words. Jackson has rested the entire picture not upon Kong’s massive shoulders, but instead upon the actress’ lithe size four frame. She comes through gloriously, moving me again and again to a place well beyond tears.

By the time it is all said and done, it isn’t worth the time to talk about the givens like visual effects, editing or other technical facets. As “Lord of the Rings” more than proved, Jackson has very few equals on those fronts. What I will say is that the look of this particular “King Kong” is unlike any other picture, a visual panoply brimming with colors and textures so one-of-a-kind they shimmer with a majesty distinctly their own. The whole thing is a like a giant matte painting sprung to life, a glorious peek into a time and place that, while based in our country’s recent past, maybe only really existed in out cinematic memory.

Is the movie perfect? No. Not remotely. Is it perfectly entertaining? Yes. Overwhelmingly so. In fact, no feature this year has thrilled me quite so much as this one did. The 1933 “King Kong” will always be the one to which all other adventures are measured, but Jackson’s homage isn’t at all shabby. For a movie I was secretly dreading, to see it now as a borderline masterpiece is something extraordinary. Kong, the Eighth Wonder of the World, has returned, and damn if I can’t help but stand up and applaud.