Flick Crit of the Week

Almost-TDay Greetings full of film criticism:

On 16 October 2009, a childhood favorite bedtime story was made into CGI/Real-People film (Yes, that is what I call them "Real-People films" You got something better?). The book Where the Wild Things Are, written and illustrated by Maurice Sendak who also illustrated the Little Bear series, is complete before the 40 pages mark, so, obviously, writer-director Spike Jonze was bound to take some creative license to fill up 101 minutes of screen time. But who expected that license to lead the story into practically apocalyptic grounds?

One of the best achievements of both the book and the movie is the monsters' scary-yet-not-so-scary look. They are furry, carry our protagonist Max around, and even smile and laugh. However, Jonze's monsters' behavior is strikingly volatile and disturbing. On the other hand, what do you expect when none other than Tony Soprano lends his voice to the main monster, "Carol"? SPOILER ALERT: I don't exactly remember anyone ripping off an arm in the beloved illustrated children's book... In fact, I don't remember anything in the book being quite that violent.

Before I come off as a concerned parent who wants to censor a film (I don't have kids, but I feel like I sound like someone who does), I do want to clear the air on this whole problem of violence. Violence is okay in movies when its logically appropriate. Saving Private Ryan would have hilariously sucked if water guns was their only option because it just doesn't match up. Censoring heavy material results in laughs while adding violent material to a children's story results in discomfort. And that's exactly what I felt in my movie chair eating my saturated large popcorn: uncomfortable. Where the Wild Things Are was a little less Where the Wild Things Are and a little more Lord of The Flies.

Ok, the movie itself had value and deserves a rave opposite my rant. Though it left the original book behind, it kept its main message and easily translates the illustrations into real-world likeness and cinematography. Max Records, who ironically plays "Max," wins our hearts as the kid putting up with this nightmare. Max's behavior is erratic, like that of any troubled nine-year-old, and Jonze truly and honestly depicts "sunt pueri pueri, pueri puerilia tractant," ("Children are children, and children do childish things"). The vulnerability and art in this movie cannot be ignored or criticized; it's a breath of fresh air from the usually predictable Hollywood.

Jonze leaves his audience hoping for more--but not exactly in a good way. SPOILER ALERT: Max returns home in his boat never hugging or saying goodbye to Carol. The only truly-likeable monster Douglas is left with a stick arm. We still are angry that Max never reconciles with Judith or Alexander (whose voice, by the way, is lent from Paul Dano whose cathartic performance of the older brother in Little Miss Sunshine earned him deserved attention). There's hardly any closure. Yet, then again, closure is achieved with his journey home and his mother's welcoming embrace. I feel better for Max, but I just can't seem to shake the misery left behind for the monsters.