Where the Wild Things Are
So I waited… and I even dared to voice my excitement about how great it was going to be… and now, I have a LOT of crow to eat.
Where the Wild Things Are started out, commenced, and ended with a painstakingly adult view on what the book only touched on….and only truly felt correctly by a child. I, and may other grown-up kids out there, LOVED the book, and it had been a precious part of our lives since the day it affected us forever.. making us wish there was a boat that could take us to faraway lands where we could be king…making us remember forever, the wondrous adventure of Max, and forever be able to quote such wonderful lines like “They gnashed their terrible teeth, and the roared their terrible roars”.
And then, like some sort of horrible nightmare, this all seemed violated with Spike Jonze at the helm. The film in my opinion was just too damn analytical. We were desperate to re-experience Max and his adventure through human eyes in hopes of remembering the childhood wonder and joy it had brought us… but what it was ended up something totally different.
Maybe I expected to much.. maybe my mind was in the wrong place when I watched it.. but I know this: I haven’t hated a film in a long time… but this one made me feel like a good, treasured part of my childhood had been extracted, poked and prodded, tested and tested and analyzed, and then put back by someone confident they had made it better, like a lot of people obsessed with progress like to do. But by the end of the procedure, I was ruined. I felt like weeping for Maurice Sendak, and the beauty he had created with Where the Wild Things Are.
Some things are better the first time you feel them. This film proves that seeking to make an original better can have disastrous consequences. If you loved the original book, Steer clear of this movie. It may be the only way to keep your innocence in contact.
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