Where the Wild Things Are

For a child, growing up is all about limitations: “No, you are not a Ninja Turtle. No, Play-Doh is not a snack. No, you may not strangle your sister for resetting your Giga Pet.” But for the character of Max in Maurice Sendak’s Where the Wild Things Are, “No” was an invitation to imagine. Forty-six years since the book’s initial success, director Spike Jonze brings Sendak’s celebrated monsters to the movies for round two of the rumpus. 

Max (the remarkable Max Records) is a young boy who counters life’s letdowns with a boundless imagination. One night,  his mother’s (Catherine Keener) demands send him out of control, and Max sets sail for nobler horizons. This escape lands Max and his sailboat at the clawed feet of the Wild Things, boisterous beasts who appear to be lions--tigers-a-bears (oh my!). To save his skin, Max pledges to perpetuate harmony among the Things by using his “magical powers.”

Jonze explores this familiar childhood tale in a dark and visually enthralling style. In choosing to forgo the CGI effects and place real people in Wild Thing suits, Jonze makes fantasy a tangible reality and leaves viewers yearning for a hug from these hairy hybrids. The film’s stunning cinematography radiates light, water, wind and air, allowing viewers to connect with Sendak’s world in a way that the original pages never could. Conversely, Jonze and staggering genius Dave Eggers’ screenplay falls short in squeezing a captivating script out of a 10-sentence story. The beasts’ existential prattle serves to restrain the creative revolt beloved in the Sendak illustrations. Metaphysical howls aside, Jonze succeeds in evoking the necessity of imagination and the inescapable duty of adulthood.