Where the Wild Things Are

I intended to love this movie. The trailer was so beautiful and so perfect; I have been aching to visit this world. So I read some reviews and some blogs and some comments, and there seem to be as many different opinions about this movie as there are individuals to express them.

Here's mine: I can't believe it. It's incredible that filmmakers could add that much to a story, and yet keep it true to the original. I don't mean "true" as in "word for word, action for action," but as in maintaining the feel and the intent of the book. Artistic integrity. This is an astonishing piece of filmmaking.

The wild things have charming details: a runny nose, quivering nostrils. I had read some reviews saying that they personified emotions, so I expected them to be caricatures of identifiable things like anger and joy and stuff. But no ... these emotions are both more immediate and more complex than I had pictured. These are KID emotions, and having said that, I think: there's no such thing. Emotions don't come in different size groupings, like Girls 10-14 gives way to Juniors, to Misses, and on up to Fat Ladies. The hurt, the pouts ("Why don't you just go play with your new friends?"), the lashing out ("That's just stupid") - I think these are the emotions that we've tried to civilize, as adults.

Not that I'm much of an adult, myself, but I have managed to disguise emotions to the point where I don't recognize them.

And that's the thing about "Where the Wild Things Are" - nobody hides their feelings. From fear to bravado, triumph to contentment, confusion to despair, it's all right out there in a kid's world. It's charming and funny and disappointing and heartbreaking.

Eel remarked that toward the end, he was feeling a little cheated because it didn't seem like anything got resolved - until the howl went up. (Actually, as I stifled my urge to howl along in the theater, I thought about R and Eel on their wolf sanctuary visit this summer, howling with the wild things.)

But that's how it is when you're a kid: things DON'T get resolved. The best you can hope for is a hug from Mom. And to all those commenters who think the kid got rewarded for acting out ... ohhh, where's your compassion and your inner child? He was scared and hurt and his whole world felt like it was populated with monsters.

***

Mig wrote yesterday:

When I think thoughts not my own, when experts tell me what to want and feel, and someone else’s desires steer me and my own die or hide, I am a monster.

I often wonder about people who let others dictate what they "should" want. "Everybody wants a box of chocolates and a long-stemmed rose ..." That, I think, is a metaphor for romance, although a gentleman of my acquaintance would certainly take it literally. He gets his gift ideas from women's magazines, I swear.

But this dovetails with my previuos post about who I really am. How much of a monster am I? Unlike Gordon, I do put home at the top of my priority list - but is that because I've bought unquestioningly into the American Dream? <looks out at garage and two vehicles> There was a time when all I wanted was to drift from place to place, working only long enough to make enough $$ to move on to another place. Gypsy, hobo, vagabond, tramp - that's what I wanted. A rootless existence. But I had a tightly woven safety net under me - a Mom with a hug whenever I came home.

***

There's a young lady I know who really liked the bad boys, in her turbulent adolescence. But she always expected the bad boys to have her same perspective on life, family, helping people, caring. When they didn't, she was hurt and confused. Like me, she was coming from a position of absolute security, flirting with danger because she knew she couldn't really get hurt. I think she found herself on Max's island with the Wild Things once or twice, and was shocked to find that not everyone wants the same things. I remember one bad boy who said ugly things about  her mother - turned out his own mother was troubled and angry, so he assumed HER mom was mean and spiteful. And when she wanted to champion the downtrodden, another bad boy turned his back, feeling that they didn't need or deserve his help.

My point is that security is in Mom's hugs. Recognizing your own hurt feelings and jealousies and wild, out-of-control anger doesn't necessarily make it any easier to cope. Max's loving family hurt and scared him because they didn't act like he wanted them to - but they gave him the strength and support to become king of the Wild Things.

Comments

[Dominik]

Marking this post down as reference for when I finally see it. I can't wait!

[Dominik]

My god, Typepad attached Ma Bell's logo to my comment above!

[KayO]

bwahahaha, I love the Ma Bell logo!

I was trying not to do any spoilers in this post, but still make sense. Hope it worked.

[knowoneyouknow]

I am SO looking forward to the movie..

and, I had to comment on this:

"Not that I'm much of an adult, myself, but I have managed to disguise emotions to the point where I don't recognize them.

And that's the thing about "Where the Wild Things Are" - nobody hides their feelings. From fear to bravado, triumph to contentment, confusion to despair, it's all right out there in a kid's world. It's charming and funny and disappointing and heartbreaking."

Okay. So, like, remember when you were just a little kid, up in your room playing with your favorite toys. You'd do the conversations back and forth between the Hot-Wheels race-car drivers, and be the 'announcer' as well... or you'd steal your sisters Barbie and Ken and have discussions and arguments between them about who's going to Malibu and who has to stay home with the baby, or you'd read a fun and favorite book out LOUD...? Remember how good it felt to hear your own voice scream all those emotions, out loud?! You could cathartically yell at Ken when really you were yelling at your parents. Or you could 'punch-out' your mean sister by violently crashing the Hot Wheels together, (though, at the time, my little brain did not realize just why this kind of playtime felt so satisfying).

I'm all for refraining from 'public display of emotions' (unless expressing them HELPS matters between the individuals involved) but when I am home alone, doing the numerous chores or procrastinating from them, I LOVE thinking OUT LOUD!

I'll sing a stupid song like South Park's Uncle F*cker song.
Or I'll be thinking of a coversation I had earlier when I had to *politely decline* an invitation - and suddenly I'll yell, "I said, There is no f*cking way I'm gonna come to Happy Hour with you goddamn retards! I'd rather stick an Ice-Pick in my eardrum than listen to your asses chat about yer friggin love-life!"

And it feels so good!

And this past weekend I howled and howled at the moon while we were anchored out in the middle of the big-ass river. Sure, I'd had a few beers. But I was sad that we had to take Jenny out of the water for the season (scheduled for the very next day), so Dick and I decided to HOWL!!!

ahhhhhhhhh.
"children... don't grow up. Their bodies get bigger, but...."

:-)

[knowoneyouknow]

oh yeah, and sometimes I walk around the house, doin' my thang, and all of the sudden I start talking to myself in an Irish accent. It used to be a Czechoslovakian accent, but Irish is more fun!

[KayO]

That is so cool. Just yesterday I walked into a colleague's office saying, "But I don't like you!" Of course my friend asked "Huh?" and I had to replay the entire conversation, which went like this:

Person I Don't Like: "We'll have to go to the symphony together! Let me know what night you want to go!"

Me: *gritted teeth grimace*

And after a 10-story elevator ride, I arrived in colleague's office saying, "But I don't like you!"

[no one you know]

ha ha ha!

wouldn't it be so fun to just do that in real life? how many doors would verbalizing 'pure honesty' open... or close?!