David O'ConnellWhere the Wild Things Are
December 7th 2009 04:41
Spike Jonze’s adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s sleight but much-loved children’s tale finally reaches the screen after a lengthy gestation period. Mostly filmed just outside Melbourne, it builds a vivid, startling internal world for troubled nine year-old Max (Max Records) from the wispy threads of Sendak’s original ten-sentence book.
In the film's early scenes - effectively a prologue - Jonze manages to establish the tone of Max’s existence with rapid, broad strokes; we see him cast aside by his sister and neighbourhood kids, his feelings trampled in the snow. Inside, his mother (Catherine Keener) seems to ignore him, more interested in her boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo). Enraged, Max throws a tantrum before fleeing and, armed only with his wolfsuit pyjamas, runs headlong into underbrush nearby. It’s here that reality and fantasy collide as he sets off in a tiny boat to a remote island and its lone signifier of habitation in an alluring glow of lights.
Fearful of the island’s inhabitants at first, Max soon mimics the bored destructiveness of their unofficial leader Carol (James Gandolfini). Then, utilising his neat ability to improvise tall tales, he has them believing that he’s a king from a distant land, able to evoke special powers; they annoint him their own leader and for a while a sense of community enwraps them in an insular, protected world, before everything begins to fracture.
As time passes, the Wild Things prove to be magnifications of all the tumultuous feelings that manifest themselves in childhood. In Carol there's the rage and frustration that finds an outlet in acting-out, often through mindless destruction, followed by an inevitable remorse. In Alexander (Paul Dano) there's the desire to be heard, to speak but forever be ignored. The enigmatic KW (Lauren Ambrose) shares a relationship with Carol that resembles that of Max and his mother, an uncomfortable mix of antipathy and protectiveness.
In a sense these creatures personify the defining characteristics of all childhoods. In the Wild Things’ hasty acceptance of Max’s concocted bio, an underlying need for direction, to be followers and not leaders, reveals itself, mirroring the fear of innocence requiring comfort, equilibrium and a stable home - with the right to roam free and start a ruckus whenever you want.
The character design of the Wild Things - the work of the Jim Henson Company - is truly ingenious, bringing Sendak’s sketches to full-bodied life. Most startling are the range of human expressions these triumphant creations are capable of without uttering a word. They prove equally adept at conveying sadness, humility, anger, inquisitiveness, pensiveness and joy - all with as much as a single glance.
There’s no getting around the fact that Where the Wild Things Are is flawed to a point; its main problem is the lack of a focused narrative, a distinct through-line on which to stack interesting diversions. The middle section stagnates as, for a while, Max just hangs out with the Wild Things, engaged in juvenile mayhem. To a degree this negates the appeal a fully realised, more ambitious adventure might have had for children - or adults with long, fond memories of the book.
Despite these reservations, the painstaking process undertaken by Jonze and his collaborators has certainly been worth it; a feeling of something unique and magical is evoked and the emotional catharsis that takes place towards the end feels anything but false.
A fusion of the musical talents of songwriter Karen O and composer Carter Burwell works off Max's innate playfulness with a lament for understanding in a world - beyond the companionship of the Wild Things - more alien than any we can conjure in our mind. Fragments of O’s dreamy, eccentric songs spark a number of key scenes, whilst Burwell, as usual, doesn’t waste a single note of his score.
All the voice actors are great but it’s young Records, plucked from obscurity, who shines brightest. He gives a flawless performance as Max and with so much riding on his casting, Jonze couldn’t afford a misstep. Luckily his instincts about this kid were spot on.
The Wild Things is far from perfect but beyond the assertions of the power of our imaginations are truthful reminders of childhood and those darker tendencies we all share, acknowledged or not. Even if the film does meander and lose focus here and there, Jonze remains absolutely true to the vision he had for this project from the beginning.
In the film's early scenes - effectively a prologue - Jonze manages to establish the tone of Max’s existence with rapid, broad strokes; we see him cast aside by his sister and neighbourhood kids, his feelings trampled in the snow. Inside, his mother (Catherine Keener) seems to ignore him, more interested in her boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo). Enraged, Max throws a tantrum before fleeing and, armed only with his wolfsuit pyjamas, runs headlong into underbrush nearby. It’s here that reality and fantasy collide as he sets off in a tiny boat to a remote island and its lone signifier of habitation in an alluring glow of lights.
Fearful of the island’s inhabitants at first, Max soon mimics the bored destructiveness of their unofficial leader Carol (James Gandolfini). Then, utilising his neat ability to improvise tall tales, he has them believing that he’s a king from a distant land, able to evoke special powers; they annoint him their own leader and for a while a sense of community enwraps them in an insular, protected world, before everything begins to fracture.
Max (Max Records) with his mum (Catherine Keener)
As time passes, the Wild Things prove to be magnifications of all the tumultuous feelings that manifest themselves in childhood. In Carol there's the rage and frustration that finds an outlet in acting-out, often through mindless destruction, followed by an inevitable remorse. In Alexander (Paul Dano) there's the desire to be heard, to speak but forever be ignored. The enigmatic KW (Lauren Ambrose) shares a relationship with Carol that resembles that of Max and his mother, an uncomfortable mix of antipathy and protectiveness.
In a sense these creatures personify the defining characteristics of all childhoods. In the Wild Things’ hasty acceptance of Max’s concocted bio, an underlying need for direction, to be followers and not leaders, reveals itself, mirroring the fear of innocence requiring comfort, equilibrium and a stable home - with the right to roam free and start a ruckus whenever you want.
The character design of the Wild Things - the work of the Jim Henson Company - is truly ingenious, bringing Sendak’s sketches to full-bodied life. Most startling are the range of human expressions these triumphant creations are capable of without uttering a word. They prove equally adept at conveying sadness, humility, anger, inquisitiveness, pensiveness and joy - all with as much as a single glance.
Max with Carol (James Gandolfini)
There’s no getting around the fact that Where the Wild Things Are is flawed to a point; its main problem is the lack of a focused narrative, a distinct through-line on which to stack interesting diversions. The middle section stagnates as, for a while, Max just hangs out with the Wild Things, engaged in juvenile mayhem. To a degree this negates the appeal a fully realised, more ambitious adventure might have had for children - or adults with long, fond memories of the book.
Despite these reservations, the painstaking process undertaken by Jonze and his collaborators has certainly been worth it; a feeling of something unique and magical is evoked and the emotional catharsis that takes place towards the end feels anything but false.
A fusion of the musical talents of songwriter Karen O and composer Carter Burwell works off Max's innate playfulness with a lament for understanding in a world - beyond the companionship of the Wild Things - more alien than any we can conjure in our mind. Fragments of O’s dreamy, eccentric songs spark a number of key scenes, whilst Burwell, as usual, doesn’t waste a single note of his score.
All the voice actors are great but it’s young Records, plucked from obscurity, who shines brightest. He gives a flawless performance as Max and with so much riding on his casting, Jonze couldn’t afford a misstep. Luckily his instincts about this kid were spot on.
The Wild Things is far from perfect but beyond the assertions of the power of our imaginations are truthful reminders of childhood and those darker tendencies we all share, acknowledged or not. Even if the film does meander and lose focus here and there, Jonze remains absolutely true to the vision he had for this project from the beginning.
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