The Daily Procrastinator

Months ago, when I saw the first film trailer for the movie Where The Wild Things Are, I freaked out with anticipation. Images of Maurice Sendak’s big furry beasts galumphing through the wilderness in a wild rumpus immediately flooded my mind. I had flashbacks to lying in my bed as a kid and trying to figure out how that one monster could possibly have lizard legs, buffalo horns, tiger stripes, and bear paws and yet still intend no harm to little Max.

Since I was a kid, this has always been my favorite image from Wild Things.

I had high hopes that the movie would echo the idea, so prevalent in the book, that not everything (or everyone, more to the point) that looks scary is actually a threat. My hopes were sorely denied.

Apparently, Spike Jonze (who is now on my List Of People To Punch In The Nose On Sight not only for his mistreatment of Wild Things, but also for his ridiculous deliberate misspelling of his assumed last name) didn’t think that the original text of the book was important to the making of the film. Instead of being the benevolent beasts of the book, the Wild Things in the movie are a bunch of whiny, self-obsessed, violent conflict-mongers.

When Max arrives on the island, his first encounter with the Wild Things involves watching the monster pictured above (named Carroll in an apparent homage to the creator of the Jabberwock) as he destroys the homes of his fellow Things for no apparent reason. We soon learn that he’s pissed because one of his fellow Things, K.W., has run off. No explanation for K.W.’s behavior is ever offered, though, and the plot of the film never regains any sense of purpose. This first encounter does, however, set up the complicated relationship that Max and Carroll will share throughout the rest of the film.

In one of the film's best moments, Carroll gives Max a lift.

To complicate matters further, Jonze (and collaborator Sendak, the book’s original creator) decide to make the Wild Things clearly male and female, and two different pairs of them are couples. The Things Judith and Ira, a bumbling oaf of a guy and a narcissistic bitch of a woman, plague the film with their relationship. Likewise, Carroll’s anger over K.W.’s departure seems to be based on a relationship that the two may or may not share. It’s never really clear.

When K.W. brings back some new friends to the Things’ fort, the rest of the gang, especially Carroll, refuses to accept them as part of the group. Carroll turns to Max to solve the situation, since he’s serving as their erstwhile king, but he doesn’t have any answers. It seems that Jonze is trying to make a political statement about how we and our leaders treat those unlike ourselves, but the issue is left unresolved and only serves to complicate an already unnecessarily complicated film.

Although the plot of the movie is disastrous, Where Wild Things Are is interesting to look at. The costumes of the Things are fantastic, accurately duplicating the images from the original art. The film offers many close-ups of the Things as they speak, and their big furry faces clearly register a variety of emotions that must have required untold hours of either mechanical animatronics or computer animation. The Things’ eyes, in particular, are beautiful. As the adage suggests, they give us a view of each Thing’s soul.

As the Things rumble around the island, they often jump to great heights, and the animation of their jumps is wildly amusing. They seem to rise into the air as if by levitation, springing toward the treetops despite their stumpy legs and thickly built bodies. In fact, they jump exactly the way the monsters in a little boy’s imagination might jump, which I find perfect, as all the events on the island happen in Max’s imagination.

Q: What have learned so far? A: While the plot is bad, the visual effects are good. That’s my story, and I’m sticking to it. The plot isn’t a complete loss, though. I need to mention a couple moments that stand out as high points. As I mentioned above, the scene in which Carroll lets Max ride on his back is sweet. Also, there’s a scene in which all of the Things sleep in a giant pile, calling good nights to one another as they collectively drift off into huge, furry slumber.

Finally, the scene in which Max leaves the island (don’t groan about spoilers; you knew it was going to end this way) is simultaneously beautiful and infuriating. All the Things gather at the beach to watch Max as he sails back to his home, and their howling as he sails into the surf is heart-wrenching. Visually, it’s a beautiful scene, and the music, camera work, and sound effects are perfect. I wish I could stop writing about the scene now, but I can’t. Although Max’s farewell is a fantastic moment, it’s also ridiculous because there’s never any explanation of why Max chooses to leave the island. It’s as if he just randomly decides to split in the middle of the conflict on Thing Island. The implied theme: When you mess things up really badly, run away; that will make things better.

It makes me want to scream like a Wild Thing.

Occasionally, Jonze's adaptation is beautiful.

I wish I could tell you to go watch Where The Wild Things Are. I wish I could celebrate the successful translation of a classic children’s book to the big screen. I wish I could tell you to take your children to the movies. I can’t do any of those things, though. (I especially can’t recommend the film for kids. This is NOT a children’s move. They’ll be alternately terrified and bored. I promise.) Frankly, I’m saddened that future generations of kids will say things like, “Where The Wild Things Are is a book, too? I didn’t know that!”

Do yourself a favor: preserve your love of Where The Wild Things Are by avoiding this film. Let your imagination give life to the Things. If not for yourself, avoid the film for your kids’ sake. They deserve to see the Wild Things like this: