She was ninety six, was Fay Wray. I can't even imagine living that long, having had a whole career back in that other black-and-white world and then living on through all the changes she witnessed. Of course, I've said the same thing of my grandmother (who is merely ninety).
Anyway, there you go. King Kong is one of the films that I often sleep to, and I think it's one of cinema's best bits of weird fiction. So, for all those times I've dozed off to Ann Darrow's screams as she was carried aloft through the squirming, primordial jungles of Skull Island, I just felt I should note her passing (even if I'd ignorantly thought she'd passed already).