Balancing

"I looked down, afraid of the persuasive power of his eyes. I refused to be convinced to fear him, no matter how real the danger might be. It doesn't matter, I repeated in my head."

I have a feeling this blog is getting as tedious for you to read as it is for me to write. A blog a chapter was a stupid, vapid idea, but an idea I promised I would see through until the end nonetheless.

In order to keep my sanity, I decided I'm going to take this particular post as far away from this piece of garbage book whose popularity mystifies me and write about something else. I'm going to write about Where the Wild Things Are, a movie I saw yesterday and one that you should see immediately - especially if your idea of deep, great, or even just well-done art is Stephanie Meyer's vampire tale.

In Where the Wild Things Are (helmed by director-of-all-trades Spike Jonze), Max Records plays Max, an intelligent, creative, yet overly-emotional 10 year old. Max's parents are divorced, he's drifting away from his sister, and he's unsure of how to handle mom's new boyfriend. After a morning of fun turns into a day and evening of frustration, Max runs away from home and, naturally, crosses a dangerous and stormy sea only to stumble upon a family of Wild Things. Each "thing" represents a part of Max's psyche, with Max becoming best friends with the sensitive and emotional Carol (voiced by James Gandolfini), whose only want in life is for all of the Wild Things to stay together. With Max as their king, the Things throw a Wild Rumpus, build a fortress, play war games, and attempt to find understanding in each other. Max, meanwhile, is forced to play the "adult"; all of the Wild Things are emotional and have different wants and needs - Max must play the peace-keeper. In the process, he begins to acquire the tools necessary to deal with his own wild emotions.

Where the Wild Things Are is being marketed as a kids movie, but it's much more than that. The narrative is free-form and is more art-film than anything else. Chances are if you've raised your child on Dreamworks cartoons and movies with talking chiuauas then they will turn on this flick. There are moments of whimsy and joy, however each scene of fun is punctuated with stretches of meloncholy. This is a movie that deals with the real emotions of a child on the cusp of puberty. The adult world is on the otherside of a door that Max is clost to opening, and he's scared shitless about what he might find when he does.

A subtle acheivement of this film is the world building, compliments of Jonze and co-screenwriter David Eggers. Max doesn't question the Wild Things (what they are, where they come from, what they do, etc) and neither do we. A gigantic walking dog that gets nary an explanation, and a Wild Thing that doesn't say a word until the last five minutes help add texture and history to the space the Wild Things inhabit. The film is only an hour and a half in length, but I found myself wishing Max would stay in this world all day.

There is a lot more I could say about the film, but I'd be writing all night. Where the Wild Things Are is without a doubt worth your time and money. People are fond of saying "I wish I was a kid again." This film reminds us that being a kid can be just as scary as being an adult. Just in ways we've forgotten about.