Where the Wild Things Are, A Review

Like most folks under the age of 40, I read Where the Wild Things Are when I was in elementary school. The book, written by Maurice Sendak, was a particular favorite, alongside classics like Green Eggs & Ham (by Dr. Seuss), Love You Forever (by Robert Munsch), and Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day (by Judith Viorst). Yes, I remember really liking Where the Wild Things Are, especially from the fascinating art and vivid imagination of the protagonist, Max.

When I first heard about the movie adaptation last year, I was hesitantly excited. I wasn’t sure how there could be a movie made from a short, ten sentence picture book, but I still decided that I would see it.

Where the Wild Things Are, directed by Spike Jonze, stars Max Records as Max from the book. (I know, it’s kind of ironic, but it’s the truth according to Wikipedia.) The movie is quite similar to book in several ways, but there are many creative avenues pursued by Jonze as well. The film runs for just over an hour and a half.

The acting from the movie was solid and well done, and the emotions on Max’s young face were perfectly captured for his scenes. His anger was vivid, his sadness was evident, and his joy was impossible not to notice. In fact, this role was only Record’s second filmed acting role, and his performance was noteworthy. In addition to the fine acting by Records, the voice acting of the Wild Things was top notch. Many well known actors fill these roles, and all do a great job with giving unique character to their Monster.

To me, the best thing about this movie was the surreal art of the Wild Things. Their island is vast, but somehow small, too. There are expansive deserts, a creepy forest, rocks and bluffs, and a magnificent oceanscape, all complete on the one island. Each monster is beautifully crafted and marvelously detailed, from their odd assortment of feet to their individual heads. And the giant fort-house that was built was breathtaking.

Another thing I really enjoyed about this film was the accompanying soundtrack. Some songs were guttural and wild, filled with arcane whoops and screams that instilled a sense of craziness. Other tracks were somber and bleak, and these fit their individual scenes perfectly.

It may come as a surprise, then, when I say that I did not enjoy the movie. While the acting was fantastic and the art was beautiful, the film was too weighty, too serious, for me to say that I enjoyed it. Max is a very mean, lonely kid, and he spends all of his time in his own imaginary world. He is not disciplined at home, and at one point he even bites his mom. But this was not why the film was heavy. No, the heaviness sets in when Max runs away from the “Real World” and goes into his imagination.

It’s easy, yet complicated, to see the metaphors and symbolism each of the monsters embodies. They are all depressed and sad and they are hoping for a King to make them feel happy. Max becomes that king, but he fails, and everybody stays pretty much the same: depressed and sad. The heaviness of life sets in on the island, and it’s a little frightening. Eventually Max realizes he wants to go home and he leaves the island to its own problems.

The conclusion of the film is a powerhouse of emotions, and I spied my eight-year-old brother-in-law wiping tears from his eyes. Indeed, the heartstrings were tugged a bit, but I didn’t turn to tears, only disgust and confusion. After I left the movie, my remarks were that it was not what I was expecting. No, it was too heavy of a film, and because of that I did not enjoy it. However, I’m not really sure if you’re supposed to enjoy it. Sure, the imagination was a fun trip, but it was too rooted in the sadness of life and love to last.

Overall, it’s a bit unfair for me to not like the film. Really I was upset that there were all these valid life problems presented and no real resolution, which is how life truly is. But, we Americans like our cinema to end with resolution, and I felt that there were too many loose ends in this movie. So, in the end, I can recommend watching the film, if only to revel a bit in childhood fantasy, but I can’t promise you that you’ll glean much from it other than life is heavy and hard, and sometimes even our imagination is not an escape.

More of Writing Wednesdays and The American Dreamer tomorrow. You can find my review of Terry Brooks' The Dark Wraith of Shannara on my Goodreads page, and I think clicking here may take you to it. And if you don't use Goodreads, then you really, really should.