Where The Wild Things Are

For all of the nostalgic memories that I have from my childhood, I don't really remember reading "Where The Wild Things Are." I think we had it, and I remember what it looked like, but I didn't come into the theater with any kind of expectations except for what came from the trailer. And oh my, what a trailer. I don't know if it's true, but the words "Best... Trailer... Ever" have come out of my mouth when talking about the Arcade Fire-laden preview for this movie. That being said, I came in with a head fairly clear of expectations, and left with it filled with childish musings and an appreciation for my mommy.

"Where The Wild Things Are"'s most impressive feature is in its authentic (or as best as I can remember it) representation of youth. Max does things that I did. When Max plays, he plays rough, and when things get out of control, he feels the same shame, embarrassment, and anger that I did when I got in over my head. Watching this movie, you remember how freeing a random snowball fight is, but also how much it sucks when the snow gets down your back, or when you take a chunk of ice in the face.

Similarly, Max's relationship with his mother reminded me of time spent with my mom, laying underneath her desk, just talking. I guess that last part was more of a shout-out to my mom than any actual criticism. Sorry about that. Speaking of moms: despite her short screen time, Catherine Keener is as believable as a frustrated but supportive single mom as anyone could be. She pulled it off in "The 40 Year Old Virgin" and does it again here.

The big talk about this movie is that people think that these douche-cracker film distributors created a movie, pushed it on their kids and then scared or traumatized them with its content. The fact is that (according to Wikipedia), most of the advertisement for the movie was directed at a "broad-based or adult-driven" audience. Just because something is based on a children's book doesn't mean it's a children's movie (see the 1976 porn cartoon "Once Upon A Girl"). The movie does get scary, and it does get heavy, as Max and the Wild Things deal with all sorts of existential crises. Rather than being for children, this is a movie about childhood, one that appreciates the experience of being young while still being respectful and challenging enough to give people of any age something to think about. It is not often that a movie asks you to look at yourself critically, to seek out the most repulsive aspects of other people in identify them within your ownself.

Visually, the film is beautiful. The monsters look amazing, with each one moving in their own individual way and their CG faces matching seamlessly to their puppet-suit bodies. With these creatures, you also get to have a lot of fun as they rampage, toss each other and have all sorts of wild rumpuses. Ironically, the frequency of these play scenes brushes on tedium, which slightly (and only slightly) diminishes from the enjoyable immersion into Max's world. Nonetheless, it's still a world that I want to visit, but first, I want to get into a snowball fight and hug my mom.

Rating: 4.0 stars