Where the Wild Things Are
I realize that Maurice Sendak’s children’s book is a bona-fide classic. But I also realize the daunting task of adapting a picture book, one that takes barely 5 minutes to read to a child before bed, into a feature-length film (something that adaptations of Dr. Seuss books like The Grinch and The Cat in the Hat don’t pull off). However, Spike Jonze’s moody, emotionally charged, deeply personal 2009 drama is one of the most daring and tender family films of its generation.
It sums up the spirit of youth with uncompromising honesty and beauty and turns Sendak’s wild rumpus into a film that captures both the wonder and the horror that belongs with being young and believing that you are king. It tells the story of young Max (an exceptional Max Records), who abandons his home and sets off to an island, where a pack of Wild Things crown him as their king. It’s more psychologically dense that your average family flick and also more bitter, terrifying and sad; perhaps, it is a more appropriate film for adults looking back at their youth, who can understand Max’s foibles better than he ever could.
Under the direction of Spike Jonze and with co-writer Dave Eggers on board, Where the Wild Things Are is a sensitive exploration of childhood in all of its joy, pain and invigorating imagination. The tall, furry Wild Things are only slightly aided by CGI – they are beastly but show a stunning range of human emotion. Jonze and Eggers draw parallels between the creatures in Max’s world and the Wild Things themselves. The film extends Sendak’s iconic story world into one where Max must grow into himself, while staying true to the late, great writer and illustrator’s manic spirit.
