The 'Wild' World of A Child

by Brett Parker

Spike Jonze’s Where the Wild Things Are has been described as “a children’s movie for adults.” I prefer to think of it as a grown-up art house film for children; a movie in which they’re trusted to identify with deep emotional revelations and musings regarding their inner beings and feelings. Indeed, I can’t remember the last time a movie nailed what it’s like to be a 9-year-old so accurately and beautifully. In adapting the wildly popular and award winning children’s book by Maurice Sendak, Jonze has highlighted the very essence of being a child in a dramatic way that wildly avoids being sugar-coated family friendly pop. While the film’s surface plot isn’t as fascinating as its underlying implications, it’s still a unique cinematic experience to relish.

As the film opens, we meet Max (Max Records), an imaginative yet lonely 9-year-old. We follow Max as he plays around in his suburban home: building forts, throwing snowballs, and running around while pretending to be a wild beast. He constantly wears what appears to be a wild animal costume equipped with paws and lion whiskers. Max feels overwhelmingly isolated in his home due to the fact that his older sister (Pepita Emmerichs) would rather hang out with her school friends than play with him while his divorced mother (Catherine Keener) is distracted with work and a new boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo, in a minute yet effective cameo). Everything comes to a head one night when Max’s mother invites her boyfriend over for dinner. Max runs wild and causes chaos to express his inadequacy and rage. He stands on top of the dinner table, shouts that he hates his mother, and even tries to bite her. Furious, his mother tries to send him to his room without dinner, but Max runs off into the night to try and escape his hurt feelings.

Max finds himself occupying a small sail boat and sailing off into the waters of the night. He eventually collides with an island in his imagination occupied by the Wild Things, 9-foot-tall beastly creatures with oversized heads and animal-like features. Max discovers that these creatures have wildly unpredictable behavior and also seem consumed by childlike emotions. There’s Carol (James Gandolfini), a melancholy dreamer, Douglass (Chris Cooper), a rational-minded bird, KW (Lauren Ambrose), a thoughtful feminine mind, Judith (Catherine O’Hara), a petty criticizer, Ira (Forest Whitaker), a meek lunk, and Alexander (Paul Dano), who is constantly neglected. When the Wild Things first meet Max, they try to eat him, but thanks to some quick thinking and imaginative lines, Max convinces them to make him their king and in charge of their daily activities. Given a golden crown and a ruling scepter, Max cheers to “let the wild rumpus start!”

As king, Max spends his days holding silly games and playful activities with the Wild Things, such as having dirt fights, knocking over trees, and building an elaborate fort in which they can all live. What stuns Max is the fact that the Wild Things behavior mirrors the confusing emotions and events of his own life. His strongest identification is with Carol, who also despairs of the growing distance between his family members and is plagued by an almost crippling loneliness. The Wild Things mirror Max’s pain and confusion, yet do so in a more outsized manor. Therefore, Max becomes increasingly scared that the Wild Things will become so consumed by their hurtful feelings that they’ll put him in harm’s way.

What is first and foremost impressive about this film is the puppetry work used to bring the Wild Things to life. Jim Henson’s Creature Shop produces exquisite work once again by creating life-size creature Muppets to make the Wild Things feel like they’re actually there. It makes things look more visually arresting, for every time wind blows against their hair or leaves stick to their body, there really is something tangible there to bounce off of and the effect is priceless. Taking this puppetry one step further, animators and a digital effects crew had the actors act out their characters’ emotions and captured them digitally to impose over the creatures’ faces. The effect is spellbinding, digitally imposing undeniable human faces over realistic creature puppets. To me, the film’s most dazzling image comes towards the end, where Carol breaks down into hysterical sobbing. This oversized creature looks so remarkably human and so convincingly melancholy that the effect will haunt you long after the movie is over. These effects have to be seen to be believed. If nothing else, this film really is something of a visual effects landmark.

Maurice Sendak’s book appeared to use the images of the Wild Things as a metaphor for the angry emotions of a child. For the film, Jonze hunts for bigger game by appearing to incorporate the entire canvas of childhood emotions within the landscape of the Wild Things. In this mystical land, Max is able to recognize his own feelings of isolation, depression, rage, silliness, confusion, playfulness, and exuberance. Spike Jonze, a director with a sublime gift for highlighting deep, peculiar emotions, uses his in-depth camera skills to bring an intense focus on all of the film’s emotional bases. He completely disregards a family film’s need to stick to an appealing plot and penetrates relentlessly towards the material’s inner-depths. As with his last film, Adaptation, Jonze centers on characters who clash grandly with their inner feelings and inadequacies only to discover an enlightened understanding of them. To bring such a need for dramatic realism to a childhood fantasy tale is a rather bold stroke and brings an overwhelming maturity to the family film genre.

All of this has made Where the Wild Things Are sound like a powerhouse classic. While it’s certainly unique and deserves to be singled out from all the rest, I didn’t find it as entertaining on the surface as it should have been. Even though the film is more about emotions than plot, it can’t be ignored that the plot itself plays out rather thinly. Watching the film, you feel like a little has been stretched out a long way and there are certain passages that don’t connect very strongly with the power of its underlying themes. Part of the problem is that most of the Wild Things aren’t as vividly carved out as Carol is. We can see how Ira, Judith, and Alexander are meant to signify sections of Max’s heart, but we don’t feel they’re fleshed out as dramatically as they should be, diminishing the film’s effect. Sendak’s book consisted of only ten sentences and perhaps Jonze and his co-scripter David Eggers found some difficulty in stretching this small tale out into feature length. The film isn’t as interesting to watch as it is to contemplate.

Yet perhaps I need to look at the film again. So complex and uncompromising is this work that it most certainly merits repeat viewings to soak everything in. On the surface though, it is highly admirable and satisfying that Jonze has made a film that respects the minds of its young audience and challenges them to employ their artistic intellects. Children, of course, can be the most curious and thoughtful of creatures, so why shouldn’t they have their own art house film that challenges their feelings? While most grown ups fear this film will fly right over their heads, I believe children just might appreciate this imaginative nourishment as a solace from the usual pop junk food they’re served.