Archive for February, 2011

Where the Wild Things Are

Posted by will on February 4, 2011

QUICK HITS

Director: Spike Jonze
Rating: PG
Release: 2009
Language: English
Runtime: 104 minutes
Plot: An adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s classic children’s story, where Max, a disobedient little boy sent to bed without his supper, creates his own world–a forest inhabited by ferocious wild creatures that crown Max as their ruler.

Where the Wild Things Are, in literary form, admittedly, was not a book I recall ever loving (that would be The Giving Tree) but one I do remember thumbing through a time or two. That being said, I have no sentimental recollections nor gooey nostalgia regarding said book. I just wanted to set the record straight that I was excited, more or less, from the previews, with The Arcade Fire’s anthemic “Wake Up” (via their seminal album Funeral) giving rise to the internal carnal sensitivities with credits giving all-powerful kudos, in children’s scrawl, to Spike Jonze, director of one of my favorite films (Being John Malkovich) and several of my revered music videos (Beastie Boys’ “Sabotage” and Weezer’s “Buddy Holly”).

Phew. Okay, let’s take a step back and catch a few breathes.

But wow, what a major disappointment.

Maybe I was aiming for the sun but watching an angsty child, one that I could find not one ounce of pity or empathy for, lord over a bunch of mopey, depressing creatures (from his imagination no less) was just was not my cup of tea. Sure, sure, I know there is a bunch of symbolism and deeper meaning to the movie and all that jazz. Okay, this was a true-to-life, raw portrayal of a child. Honestly, I just was not inspired to stick around to dig a little deeper into Max’s psyche.

In short, Max, ironically portrayed by Max Records, is the youngest sibling under the roof of his divorced, working mother (Catherine Keener). Maybe Max is a little off, maybe he is misunderstood, maybe he is a thinker before his time. Whatever the case really be, it is painfully obvious that Max is a frustrated little boy.

After a violent outbreak in a show of defiance (either sparked by his mother’s inattention or her gentleman caller), Max runs away not only from his home but from the physical realities of our world to a land of sad creatures with problems of their own.

To be honest, I can only evaluate this movie for half of its running time. Visuals aside, the story and characters were so insipid I was compelled to just turn the movie off. More than likely, what I was not prepared for was a movie detailing, through the eyes of a child, the disparity and dejection of life. I mean, after all, children’s books aren’t supposed to be about imaginary-medicating children who re-imagine their plights but with mopier characters with their own issues to work through, right? However poignant and heroically beautiful this might be, it was not something I found, at the time, appealing.

Don’t get me wrong, I like unrefined honesty in my movies (in some contexts). That’s why it is hard for me to stomach a lot of the crap that gets churned out of Hollywood these days. None of it is real and the material is not relatable. I like my champions of the dispirited to be dressed up in quirk, self-deprecation, or, at the very least, some ambition. I did not find any of those qualities with King of the Rumpus, Max. Maybe I just was not “hip” enough for this film.