| 13 March 2010
Like most red-blooded Americans, I read Where the Wild Things Are as a kid. I don't remember much about it, because as far as I remember, there's not a whole lot to remember - some kid running around with some beasts. I was worried that there wasn't going to be a lot of substance to its big screen adaptation, and in a sense I was right, but in the hands of the very capable director Spike Jonze, there was really nothing to worry about.
The film follows the story of Max, a young boy who finds himself in a world filled with huge, wild beasts. His emerging relationship with them and how it reflects on his actual life at home is the core of this film, just as I thought it would be.
One troubling and unexpected aspect of this film is the fact that it left me deeply disturbed. Max runs the whole gamut of childhood emotion, and he is unpredictable and, dare I say, wild - just like the beasts in this new world. The characters all act in rash, erratic ways and for the first half of the movie I was uncomfortable and on edge. But then, finally, it hit me - this is the brilliance of this film.
Where the While Things Are is not a film for children, because it's too dark and violent. What it is, though, is a film that is intended to make adults feel like children again. It's like Spike Jonze went back in time and kidnapped the 10-year-old version of himself and made him direct this film - the camera angles, characterization and movements all feel overwhelmingly juvenile. The characters behave irrationally because they're either children or the result of a child's imagination - it makes perfect sense. Once I realized this and willingly let myself take this film on as if I was a child again, I loved it. I didn't understand everything - and that's how children are - but I still took every scene and made what I wanted with it.
If you didn't like this film, try taking your adulthood blinders off and see if that made a difference. It did for me.
Steve also reviewed this movie a couple months ago; click here to read it.
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