October 26, 2009

• Where The Wild Things Are

  i could talk about how the monster costumes and effects were impressive.  and how technical mastery created monster faces that showed such painfully present emotion.  and how the stick structures and sparse world of wooded fantasy were perfect for this brand of “wild thing” imagination.  i could talk about catherine keener’s acting or the DP’s camera shots.  but that would all just be being reductive and missing the forest for the trees, because ultimately all the technical aspects and production values worked well enough to disappear into the film content itself and present to you this masterpiece of a film.  i’ll say that again for effect.  masterpiece.

  i remember seeing the book around the house when i was a kid but i don’t think i ever read it.  if i did, i don’t remember it, so i can’t compare.

  it’s the story about a nine year old kid named Max.  his parents are divorced.  his sister is older and ignores him.  his mother is dating Mark Ruffalo.  one night he lashes out at his mother and runs away to the woods where he sails a boat to a faraway island populated by giant, childlike, “wild thing” beasts who immediately adopt him as their king.  things go great for a short while in this fantasy land until real world emotions peek into Max’s kingdom and threaten to tear apart his new family of fellow wild things.  (so, anyone that complains about this film having no plot should just STFU because there it is.) 

  again, i won’t go into the technical stuff because i don’t want to lose sight of the magic of this film, which is the re-creation of the entire spectrum of childhood emotions, which actually is the entire spectrum of Real Human Emotions, just in a different setting.  fear, betrayal, disappointment, loneliness, happiness, hope, love, comfort.  spike jonze romps through our fundamental emotive existence through this kid Max, sometimes heart-breakingly and sometimes with enthusiasm.  there’s no mistake though, the film’s emotions are all real, endearing and somehow have such an intense vivacity that they often felt like an electric shock or a splash of water in the face.  in a good way.  i’m not exactly sure how Spike Jonze did it, but he put all the pieces together and the film, like Pinocchio, became a living thing.  and he did it all without talking down to Max or giving us, the audience, an adults’ view of Max’s story.  i became Max and the Wild Things, and i felt their emotions as i feel my own. 

  from this nytimes article: “‘We wanted it all to feel true to a 9-year-old and not have some big movie speech where a 9-year-old is suddenly reciting the wisdom of the sage.’ [Jonze] hadn’t set out to make a children’s movie, [Jonze] said, so much as to accurately depict childhood. ‘Everything we did, all the decisions that we made, were to try to capture the feeling of what it is to be 9.’”  what the quote and article didn’t say however is how in trying to show the view of a nine year old, the film became instantly relateable regardless of age to anyone that has a heart.  (or, also a likely possibility, i am literally retarded.  emotionally stunted.  but at this point…  so what?)

  i just saw this thing yesterday, so the experience is still fresh and might dull out later, but right now, i feel like Where The Wild Things Are is one of those films that come along every several years that convince you of the awesomeness of movies.  the word “fantastic” somehow isn’t fit to describe this film.  “special” works much better. 

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