Where The Wild Things Are: Masters Of Mischief

“I don't know. You have absolute power, remember?”
--Michael from E.T.: The Extra-Terrestrial

"Leslie Burke is right. Mind like yours wide open, you could create a whole new world.”
--Ms. Edmunds from Bridge To Terabithia

“This is all yours. You're the owner of this world.”
--Carol from Where The Wild Things Are

The recollection of childhood is the infinite atlas of our dreams. Our childhood memories are a form of storytelling within themselves. The flood of emotions that washed over me while watching Spike Jonze’s breathtaking adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s timeless Where The Wild Things Are is a testament to the true power of visual storytelling. The power of Sendak’s 1963 vision radiates with startling precision in 2009. The power of this kind of story comes from tradition-- the tradition of parents reading to their young children. My older brothers and I begged my Mom to read us Where The Wild Things Are every night for several years. Not only did I beg my Mom to read me that book, but also Goodnight Moon, The Fantastic Mr. Fox and countless Babar books. My childhood memories are seen through a suburban Seventies hazy filter with images from books and countless Black and White films. Cinematically, my memories look as though they were shot by Edward Lachman and Tim Orr. Classic storybooks with their rich illustrations serve as templates of not only my dreams, but also the prism through which I view my past. The images from Sendak’s masterpiece are still as wild and inviting as they were nearly thirty-six years ago when my Mom read it to me every night. The power of Spike Jonze’s film comes through within the first several minutes as we are introduced to the iconic, mischief maker himself, Max, beautifully played by Max Records. In these scenes, the chaos, allure and recollection of childhood is presented perfectly. The first twenty minutes of the film are a powerful expression of what it means to be a young boy through the eyes of Spike Jonze, screenwriter, Dave Eggers and most importantly, Maurice Sendak. Where The Wild Things Are is not a childhood flashback, but a reflection of what it means to be a child. This is not a children’s film, this is a film for all ages. Everyone can relate to the themes in this work; that is part of the film’s magnetism.

The film has Maurice Sendak’s blessing. The interesting aspect of Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers’s screen adaptation is that it is not one hundred percent loyal to the source material. Things have been changed, but not in a bad way. This is not the slavish adaptation of Alan Moore’s Watchmen by Zack Snyder, which may be the greatest imperfect epic ever made-- the film may have been too loyal to Mr. Moore’s graphic novel. Where The Wild Things Are is a different beast altogether. There is an intense loyalty to all of the book’s themes and visually it is as loyal as can be. Perhaps the biggest change is that Max’s room no longer changes its boundaries with vines and vegetation. Instead he runs away outside of his house. This is the film’s one big departure. The room is no longer the vessel to this other world. The forest does not grow in the room. This may be a problem for purists, but I think it is a respectable change. When Max escapes, he leaves his very patient and worried mother played by the always reliable, Catherine Keener. He is so distraught by the events of the day. The events of the day are just the beginning. Max tries to get the attention of his older sister, Claire (Pepita Emmerichs), but she is on the phone. She cannot be bothered. When her friends appear, he starts a snowball fight with all of them. This ends disastrously as his igloo is crushed. Lance Acord’s camera is right there with Max as his world is crushed. The tears and pain are evident on Max’s face. Everyone leaves him behind. He is left alone. Not since Steven Spielberg’s E.T, has a more honest representation of childhood been presented onscreen. This world is cruel for a young boy. The mythology of childhood has been cinematically crystallized forever. The loneliness of childhood, or more importantly, Max’s loneliness is displayed in the starkest terms. He wants to go with his sister and her friends, but that is not possible. Max returns to his house and has a fit. He goes on a rampage into Claire’s room. He destroys a heart he made for her. We see Max’s wild behavior from the beginning. His roughhousing with the family dog opens up the film. He chases the dog down the stairs. What’s beautiful about is that during this, the film’s title card comes up which seems straight out of a classic Sergio Leone western. It is Max’s relationship with his mother that sheds further light; they have a very tight bond. She is busy with work and attempting to have a relationship with her boyfriend played by Mark Ruffalo. Max is jealous and wants her attention. When he does not get it, he acts out causing quite a scene. He goes as far as to bite her. He runs out of the house into the vastness of his imagination. Max is the most solitary child and his limitless imagination is his vessel.

Thankfully in padding the forty-eight page storybook into an hour and forty minute film does not slow the story’s kinetic energy. Max’s journey to the island of monsters does not take forever. Given Jonze’s artistic sensibilities, we get to the monsters soon enough. Max takes a sailboat to monster island. It is a monster island like no other. It is the hybrid of all Sendak’s majestic creations as well as a nostalgic wink to the wonderful Man in the Suit monsters from the old Toho Monster films. Yes, I went there! Deal with it! Max, like everyone else in the world is alone. The book’s existential meanings are not lost on the filmmakers. In the classroom, Max’s science teacher gives a gloom and doom scenario that the Sun will one day die. The meaning of this is not lost on Max; in fact, the anguish and fear on his face are all too evident. Max discovers the island of monsters from his sailboat. His introduction to them is appropriate. The monsters are wild things like him. They are destroying their homes in a furious, throw caution to the wind style. He befriends these forest creatures after an initial awkwardness. The wild things are softer versions of Sendak’s creations brought to life through costumes and through computer generated animation. There are familiar voices behind those faces: James Gandolfini as Carol, Catherine O’Hara as Judith, Forest Whitaker as Ira, Paul Dano as Alexander, Chris Cooper as Douglas and Lauren Ambrose as KW. These are his kind of wild things. The creatures did not have names in the book; it is a bold and necessary device needed to give the film so much life. They make him their King and “the wild rumpus” truly begins. Each of the creatures is really an extension of all Max’s emotions. He naturally bonds with Carol, Mr.Gandolfini’s greatest creation since Tony Soprano. Carol wants to live in a world where everything is just right. I have always seen the island as an innocent utopia where childhood never dies. Adults are not wanted, kind of like Peanuts. Yet even within this utopia, we see that the events of the first twenty minutes begin to repeat themselves on the island. The snowball fight is recreated as the infamous dirt clod battle. It is not so much history repeating itself, but fears playing themselves out again in dreams as well as reality. The melancholic feeling that Max exhibits in the first twenty minutes never leaves him. It haunts the whole story. It gives the film a potent tonic. Lauren Ambrose’s KW serves as a wonderful parallel to his sister Claire. The scenes between KW and Max are touchingly haunting. Newcomer Max Records gives a terrific performance as Max. When he wears the iconic wolf suit, Max comes to vivid life. He hits all the right beats as the boy who becomes king of the wild things. Even though it is a small part, Catherine Keener is simply wonderful as Max’s mother. Their scenes together are brief, but they are packed with an intense emotional punch-- especially in the film’s final moments.

Spike Jonze is one of the original “rebels on the backlot.” Twenty years ago, I would have thought Terry Gilliam or Tim Burton might have been the only mavericks to pull off this adaptation. Today, I only think Jonze and perhaps, Michel Gondry or Wes Anderson could do this story justice. Yet given Spike Jonze’s previous two films, Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, I feel he was the right man for the job. It seemed he was always destined to make this film. All of the elements of his previous work are on full display. Dave Eggers has done an excellent job with the screenplay adaptation. Between this and Away We Go, he has displayed an enormous gift at the screenwriting trade. Yet for all the additional words, Where The Wild Things Are is visual storytelling at its best. Lance Acord, Jonze’s longtime cinematographer, creates a vivid and colorful world. His work is equally impressive on Sofia Coppola’s Lost In Translation and Marie Antoinette as well Buffalo 66 and The Dangerous Lives of Altar Boys. K.K. Barrett’s production design is flawless. Casey Storm’s costumes are faithful reproductions of Sendak’s vision. The music by Carter Burwell and The Yeah Yeah Yeahs’ Karen O is particularly refreshing and invigorating. If I do have one minor complaint, it is that I really wanted to hear Arcade Fire’s “Wake Up” played somewhere in the film; it was used brilliantly in the film’s magical trailer.

Everyone brings their own baggage to a film of this magnitude. A film based on a classic children’s book is a very sacred thing. The film, as well as the book, means something different to everyone. When we come back to a film, a book, an album or other works of art, it means something different to us as we get older. I can see why Spike Jonze wanted to make this book into a film. I can see why this book meant so much to him as it means a lot to people of every generation. His films display a limitless imagination. His vision knows no boundaries. The volcanoes of creativity at work in Being John Malkovich and Adaptation are in overdrive. It is easy to see that he identifies with Max. In a way we all do, but Jonze seems to have found a creative vessel in Max. The melancholic attitude, fear and wildness that Max displays in the film have their reasons. Whether it is divorce, loneliness or distracted mothers, something is there, but the beauty of the film is that Jonze and Eggers refuse to give any answers. This is art, not psychoanalysis. There is no cynicism in the film. Not a trace of it is to be found. The only other filmmaker who works in this way is David Gordon Green. Like many of the great films released this year, Where The Wild Things Are does not talk down to its audience. The film respects its audience and gives it plenty to think about. Childhood is powered by an endless imagination. When imagination dies, our childhoods end. Imagination is the cure for the solitary child. A hot supper and a loving parent remain the cures for that solitude as well.