Where the Wild Things Are

Haven't we all been Max at one time? Never mind that he's just a kid. He cowers from the same Life Things we all have. Being a mere boy of nine or so, he's just not yet learned the grown up art of suppressing emotion, curbing urges, reeling in the Id. Sure, he's probably wise beyond his years, but, he's still just a child. Prone to acting up in ways deemed unacceptable to his mom, especially when he runs around in a woolly outfit and bites her shoulder while she's trying to entertain her boyfriend. Max (Max Records) is likely upset that Mom (Catherine Keener) is trying to move on with her life, but that is not explicit. Childhood can be a hellish canyon of loneliness. This is not helped when your father is gone and your sister doesn't try to protect you when the big kids smash your igloo. Running wild is Max's response. 

When the tear ducts have run dry, what else is there to do? The boy needs an outlet for his restlessness, a place in which to soothe his nervous energy. By the time he's bitten his mother and suffered indignations at the hands of his sister and her friends, he's ready to take flight. He runs out the door and eventually paddles a rowboat across treacherous waters for days before he meets a group of shaggy, frightening-looking (yet oddly loveable and cute) creatures. We don't learn anything about their evolution, their species. We never see them consume anything. Their origin-never explained. They speak English. Well, of course they're not real, silly! Isn't this a children's story? Much has been made of just what the creatures first seen in Maurice Sendak's 1963 picture book Where the Wild Things Are are supposed to be, who or what they represent. Any psych undergrad could draw conclusions citing Freud or Carl Jung, or hosts of obscure therapists. 

In director/co-scripter Spike Jonze's new film adaptation, we are shown galleries of imagery absent from the source material. Not difficult, as the original book had only 9-10 sentences of text and about 50 total pages. Critics have for years debated the significance of the mysterious world in which Max lands. A world where deep woods, desert, and beach seem to exist within a few miles of each other. Each creature living there, distinctively illustrated and characterized. Physically, they're all hairy, tall, generally imposing, armed with claws. Well, except for Bob and Terry, who are owls, but anyway.... These creatures, many fans believe, are pieces of Max's personality. Ah, the Gestalt! What a fractured puzzle, indeed! Put together, a most disturbingly familiar mess. Maybe that's why Sendak's story is so fondly remembered. Perhaps too why it remains popular with adults? Why several kids going to see this movie are ready to bolt. Maybe the too-young ones haven't yet had to reconcile their angst. Maybe the older ones want escape, not reminders of what awaits them in their bedrooms when the lights go out and all is quiet. 

Movies like TRANSFORMERS are popular because they are so loud and fast you don't have time to feel sad that you were the last one picked for the kickball team at school. WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE instead looks right into the jowls of low self-esteem and nausea. Yeah, it's a children's story. Accordingly, each creature, for all his or her differences, share a common melancholia. These are some of the saddest beings ever seen in children's literature. Any of them make Eeyore seem like an extrovert. As we gaze into the wild things' expressions, so amazingly rendered by Jim Henson's workshop, we see flat out despair. A resignation to crushing loneliness. Their eyes seem to sigh. If you watch the end credits, you'll note that a crewperson was in charge of just the eyes. 

In this dire world of WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE, he had his work cut out for him, full time. Max, after some understandable apprehension, befriends the disparate group. Carol (voice of James Gandolfini) is the reluctant leader, a brooder prone to whacking and destroying things both when he's upset and happy. Judith (v/o Catherine O'Hara) is the instigator, malcontent, forever demeaning everyone else, not at all happy to see that Max is declared "king" of this roost. Her companion-cum-lover, Ira (v/o Forest Whittaker) is a frumpy whiner in perpetual disagreement with Judith. Douglas (v/o Chris Cooper) is Carol's wing man, of sorts. Mainly, he's an attempt at moral support, and a wellspring of patience. There are other characters, including K.W., apparently quite enamored with Carol and vice-versa, but they seem to be on the outs. K.W. has broken away from the others, more apt to spent time with Bob and Terry, whom none of the others trusts because they are so different. K.W. also speaks like a twenty-something post-irony drenched alternakid from the 90s. Hmm, in Jonze's and Dave Eggers script, it may be surmised that Max has seen too many movies or listened to too much Liz Phair.

   

After he is kinged, Max temporarily brings joy to this sadland. He teaches them to be more affectionate and even rallies them to build a new palace. All these monsters even pounce on each other in a love pile, a place so cozy they all fall asleep. The warmth is short-lived. The "king" will be questioned, the utopia will collapse.

WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE is not like any other "family" film I've seen. It always feels off-kilter, from the opening shots when Max stalks his living room, howling and chasing the family dog. Throughout this adventure, Jonze keeps his frame filled with grotesque beauty, somehow creating an atmosphere of dread and energetic discomfort. Every scene is uncomfortable, but exhilirating just the same. I'm not sure how he did it, honestly.

The script provides the butterflies-in-the-stomach tale, but the actors (clad in hairy costume or not) also play it with a nervousness that is just right. I don't know how many kids casting had to screen test before Max Records came along, but it must have been nerve warcking for all parties. Records inhabits the role with perfect dis-ease. The wild things are truly marvels of f/x. Their facial movements create more emotion than you'll likely to see on real human's faces anymore. Viewers will recognize the gamut of concern, disappointment, feigned glee, jealousy, all of it. The crew deserves a special Oscar for this feat.

While Jonze and Eggers (who penned A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius) can sometimes be a little too clever and self-congratulatory for their own good, they were the right people to bring this beloved story to the screen. Both men are creative visionaries in an industry lacking imagination anymore. When a film like WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE comes along, a film so singular in its creativity, I just want to tell everyone about it. If for no other reason than that it's so rare.