Where the Wild Things Are

Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are has always been a favorite at our house. There's something about Max's wildness that speaks to children and adults alike. We all have an inner "wild thing" waiting to be tamed or entertained, depending on our mood. We all wish we could have a wild rumpus to work out our anger and energy, and oh, if only we could simply eat up those things that make us angry!

Likewise, the promise of home and the forgiveness and grace of a mother also speaks to us. Sendak's book not only captures the tumult and rage of a small child's world, out of control, but also the contented sigh of being welcomed back home with a bowl of soup and slice of cake when our tantrum is over.

I had the honor of teaching a co-op class on story elements the past five weeks. Using classic children's books, we explored the concepts of character, setting, theme, and plot. When we discussed reality vs. fantasy in books, Where the Wild Things Are was a shoo-in.

Like my own children, the six and seven year olds in my class loved this book. They seemed to have a lot of empathy for Max, that little boy in the wolf suit only a few years younger than themselves. They loved the simple text and the pages with no text, where Sendak's illustrations told the story without words. Seeing the book through their eyes, you realized that it was the simplicity with which Sendak tells his tale that makes it so perfect.

When I learned Spike Jonez was directing the movie version of Where the Wild Things Are, I was intrigued. I try to have some alone time with each of my little ones, and I decided that this movie would be a good date for me and my "Wild Thing," Nicholas, who just turned six. We were both excited, and went on opening day.

I wish I had waited. I broke my own rule, and went before the online review came out on pluggedin.com. I really wish I had, as the review suggests, take the PG rating more seriously.

Nicholas seemed to enjoy it. There were times he laughed out loud. He also cried and was very sad at parts, and frightened as well. Much of it seemed to go over his head, and I really don't know that he got all that much out of it. Certainly, he didn't engage with the movie as much as he has engaged with the book.

As for me, I mostly found it boring and contrived. To take Sendak's book, where the genius is in its simplicity, and try to puff up less than 350 words into 2 hours of action and dialogue almost seems like a sacrilege. In my eyes, the movie missed the point completely.

By aging Max up from a four- or five-year-old in the book to a nine-year-old in the movie, the main character looses- in my opinion- his license to behave as he does. A five-year-old can be excused for acting like a "wild thing". They're running on emotion and don't have much of an internal locus of control. To see a nine-year-old acting that way, biting his mother and exhibiting little to no control, shifts the behavior from child-like to downright bratty. I can watch that at home.

Some of the violence in this movie was disturbing as well. While bloodless, there's a constant tension where the viewer isn't sure if Max and the Wild Things are happy or harmed. Max seems unsure as well. And there's one act of violence committed by one Wild Thing against another that I found horrifying, and yet the movie just glanced over it.

All in all, this is not a movie for children. It's a movie for adults about a treasured childhood tail. For me, I'll stick to the book. The movie missed the mark.