Where The Wild Things Are
Do you remember the kids’ book? It’s a simple little tale, but upon re-reading it in advance of seeing the film, I saw Max as a frowning, potentially angry little boy (in so far as you can read-in to the meaning of the images). The big screen version of Where The Wild Things Are takes that idea and runs with it: Max is an imaginative but troubled boy from a broken family, who runs away in frustration.
Somehow, they’ve avoided doing this the way you would expect Hollywood to do it: instead of a ridiculous Jim-Carrey/Dr-Seuss style farce, this film has the guts to try to do something meaningful. It doesn’t shy away from exploring a slightly darker side of the story, and I wasn’t surprised to hear a couple of the littler children in the audience crying from fear at a couple of points.
The film does a great job of capturing what it feels like to be a 9 year-old boy, taking you into his real world at first, and then bridging into the fantasy world without any winks or nods: the fantasy world is portrayed as just as real; it’s more melancholy than fantastic. It’s the kind of movie that would do well to have a child psychologist as one of the bonus disc commentary tracks; there’s a lot of unspoken depth to some of Max’s interactions with the wild things… which represent aspects of his own troubles and emotions. The film’s tagline suits it well: “There’s one in all of us.”
There are a lot of poignant moments, the only problem is that these were sometimes far between — the film did feel a little bit long at times, and probably could have been tightened up a bit more with some judicious edits.
