WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE is as beloved as children’s
books get—everyone remembers it fondly, and for some of us, our
affection for the book was only reinforced by the newfound relevance it
took on after discovering hallucinogens (hey, it seemed profound at the
time).
So it stands to reason that the film adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s
classic story has been awaited with excitement, and no small amount of
trepidation, by the book’s many fans (read: all literate Americans).
Its pedigree is solid, to say the least: The movie is directed by
Adaptation and Being John Malkovich‘s Spike Jonze, from a
screenplay written by Jonze and Dave Eggers. And then there’s the
film’s trailer, heart-tuggingly soundtracked by the Arcade Fire’s “Wake
Up,” a song that’s well documented in its power to make grownups cry
like little babies.
The trailer communicates in pure feeling, conveying freedom,
recklessness, and loss, which together create a perfect mood of
nostalgia for childhood long gone. The movie communicates these things
too, but unlike the trailer, it’s not trying to make you cry. The film
is trying, as Jonze said in a recent interview in the New York Times
Magazine, not to be a children’s film, but to convey a sense of
childhood. In other words, it’s not about your lost
childhood—it’s about a kid who’s living his.
The button-eyed Max of Sendak’s illustrations is here replaced by a
real-live boy, played remarkably well by an aptly named Portlander, Max
Records. Max’s parents are divorced, and his mom (Catherine Keener) is
seeing someone new; meanwhile, his older sister (Pepita Emmerichs) is
suddenly too busy to play with him, and her new friends aren’t very
nice. It’s enough to make any kid want to go on a wild rumpus, and
that’s just what Max does after a particularly explosive fight with his
mother: He puts on a wolf costume and tears through his suburban
neighborhood, to the very edge of civilization, where he finds a small
boat and sets sail for unknown lands.
It’s there, of course, that the Wild Things are. The Wild Things now
have names and distinct personalities (and they’re voiced by the likes
of James Gandolfini, Chris Cooper, Lauren Ambrose, Paul Dano, Catherine
O’Hara, and Forest Whitaker), but as a whole it’s safe to say they’re
grumpy, cantankerous, occasionally kind, and they get their feelings
hurt pretty easily. Upon declaring himself their king, Max gets stuck
with the job of helping the Wild Things keep the sadness and loneliness
away (yes, the Wild Things are a little bit emo).
Where the Wild Things Are is unique among children’s books in
that the only real stakes are emotional ones. On the island, as king of
the Wild Things, Max is tasked with sorting out the complicated
allegiances and resentments of his new subjects. It’s a lot, in fact,
like life on the playground, and much of the movie feels like a big
game—perceived as being deadly serious, as only a child could
consider it. From the elaborate forts that Max plans and constructs to
the sorta half-assed, sorta brilliant stories he tells, Wild
Things perfectly captures the improvisational quality of children’s
play. If it doesn’t pack quite the intensely personal emotional wallop
of the trailer, it nonetheless contains moments of sheer unadulterated
recklessness, as Max and the Wild Things play ferocious games in the
forest, accompanied by giddy, Karen O-scored drumbeats. But the film’s
quiet moments really hit home, as Max, scared in his now-tattered wolf
costume, does his best to help his new friends feel safe in the world
they live in. In its willingness to take childhood seriously, Where
the Wild Things Are is every bit as good as we wanted it to be.