Where the Wild Things Are

Maurice Sendak's book from 1963, Where the Wild Things Are, is one of those staples found on the bookshelves of tykes all over, and it is deceptively simple: a boy named Max, dressed in wolf pajamas, acts up and is sent to his room without supper. In his imagination his room fades away, and he is on a boat that sails to a jungle, where he meets some monsters. They dance and have a great time, and then he returns to reality, and has supper. It is ten sentences long.

Now the director Spike Jonze, teaming with writer Dave Eggers, have turned this tale into a padded film that reeks of modern psychiatry. I'm surprised Dr. Phil wasn't a consultant. Instead of being about the power of imagination, the film is about the frailty of family. You see, in the film, Max is the product of a broken home. His mother, Catherine Keener, worries about her job, and dates Mark Ruffalo, who seems nice enough. But something eats at Max, and he throws a spectacular fit (outwardly about his distaste for frozen corn) and when he bites his mother he runs out of the house and into the woods.

His fantasy takes him to an open boat on the high seas, and he lands on an island. He finds the wild things, large furry. horned monsters, engaging in destructive behavior. The rambunctious boy senses they are of a similar mind, and indeed Carol (voiced by James Gandolfini) is taken by him. Others are more suspicious, and suggest eating him. Max, thinking quickly, tells him that he is a king, and that sounds good to them, so they crown him.

The wild things are essentially overgrown children, and suffer from internecine squabbling. Their biggest issue is that K.W. (Lauren Ambrose) has left, enjoying the company of two owls. Carol is jealous of this. Judith (Catherine O'Hara) is prickly, and Alex (Paul Dano), a goat-like creature, is a bit of a nebbish. I find it kind of interesting that Max's imaginary playmates have such a litany of neuroses, perhaps an indication that Max needs to see a child psychiatrist. I don't think my childhood fantasies were nearly as Freudian.

Eggers, who was orphaned as a young man and raised his younger brother (as told in A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius) and Jonze have crafted a script that reflects the terror of a child facing separation. Whether it's his absent father or being told by a science teacher that the sun will one day die, poor Max seems to be in constant fear of being abandoned. Therefore he attempts to fashion his kingdom of monsters into a cohesive family, but it is beyond his skills (as it would be beyond anyones). This is a good idea, but I found it to be a labored and tedious point. The film, at just over ninety minutes, seems half again that long, and I was fidgeting like a six-year-old. The wild things are a major drag.

There are things to be admired. The first section of the film, with Max at home, is brilliantly crafted, and perfectly capture the mind of a hyperactive child. Also, it was a good choice to have the creatures not depicted as Jar-Jar Binks computer images, but as costumed actors (CGI is used for their facial expressions, and it's seamless). This choice, along with the fact that Max does not play with modern toys (not a video game to be seen) gives the film a timeless feeling, and aside from a brief shot of a computer it could have been set in 1963.

Then there is Max Records, who plays Max. Despite his cool name (how did his parents resist naming him Tower, Apple, or any one of a number of other names) he gives an authentic performance that never goes too far in cutesiness. When this little guy is called upon to shed tears it's absolutely heart-wrenching, and you wonder how someone that young can tap on to emotions so genuinely.

Though young Mr. Records is a fine actor, his character can be difficult to suss. Jonze and Eggers make the choice of changing one fundamental plot point of the book--instead of spinning his fantasy in his room, which is an internalization, he runs into the woods, an externalization (and also results in scaring his mother needlessly). One wonders what he was up to in the woods while he was imagining himself as king of the wild things, especially since it was night-time. Today's children are over-medicated, but I'm sorry to say that the thing that may benefit Max the most is a prescription to Ritalin.