Where The Wild Things Are review

Well, fuck. The first 100% brand-new review I'll be doing here at the Freelancer, and I... well, I really can't think of anything professional to say about Spike Jonze's "Where the Wild Things Are." Or at least, nothing I can say that would presume the air of objective detachment that a critic should have when bringing something up for formal consideration. But then, I suppose something like that's next-to-impossible when dealing with something as profoundly and near-universally central to several generations of children-turned-adults as Maurice Sendak's original book-- this is probably why, say, even the Nostalgia Critic found himself incapable of bile when attempting to tear Sesame Street a new one.

But it's no exaggeration to say that nearly everyone you've met has read this book, had it read to them, or even read it to their own children at some point. And when a movie as closely loved and important as this one gets adapted to film, it's more likely than not to get a lot of flak no matter what it does. Too close to the original, it's lazy. Takes too many liberties, it's not the same thing. Too long, too short, right/wrong actors/music/visuals... there's a lot that can go wrong, and it's nearly impossible to keep everyone happy.

Which is why I'm going to tell you to ignore the legions of critics who've written this off as 'not fun enough/too dark/too involved/too whatever' and go see it. Whatever it's kept from the original, it's become a remarkably intelligent, surprisingly tender meditation on childhood and growing up itself, which in some ways might be closer to Maurice Sendak's book than you might be inclined to think.

A surprising majority of critics have complained that "Where the Wild Things Are" isn't 'as fun as the book,' but considering author Sendak described it as a kind of 'personal exorcism', a way of dealing with a lot of things in his childhood, perhaps it was never SUPPOSED to be just a lighthearted romp. I mean, that's certainly present in the film for a large majority of it, but the psychological underpinnings of the story are really brought front-and-center here, in such a way that the Wild Things themselves definitely have more personality, but said personalities are considerably more sobering (and at times, downright frightening) than you might expect, but in some ways it wouldn't work as well otherwise.

As much as there is going on here in terms of action, there's even more bubbling psychologically under the surface, and "Wild Things" is surprisingly keen on mining and examining this aspect of the original work, especially considering it's ostensibly a children's fantasy film. Max here becomes a clearly isolated individual gnawed at by the increasing awareness of his own vanishing childhood, and the Wild Things are-- for all intents and purposes-- really just gigantic monstrous children, with all the insecurities, sudden mood swings and anarchic energy that implies. But for all its thrilling sequences and shifts into darker (but subdued) contemplation, there's something very genuine and heartfelt about it... indeed, something few films period ever manage to achieve.

"Where the Wild Things Are" is the rare children's film that treats its audience with respect, that doesn't dumb things down but rather makes the rare decision to challenge instead. Of course, if that sort of thing isn't for you, don't worry-- I'm sure the Jim Carrey version of "Grinch" is readily available at your nearest Blockbuster.