 From
the title screen going forward, director Spike Jonze seems
hellbent on defying our expectations.
The action begins in a fit of fury. A little boy is dressed
like a lion, and he’s chasing his dog through the house,
screaming as he tears the house apart. A few minutes later, he’s
building a snow fort and talking to himself. Then he’s
launching a surprise snowball fight, crying when he gets hurt
in the scuffle and taking out his vengeance on an uncaring
sister, trashing her bedroom.
What we realize, before a word
is really even spoken in the film, is that to be a child is to
live in emotional extremes. Euphoria and despair, excitement
and boredom.
The wild things that we are to meet later – created as
walking, talking, emoting creatures that are about as
brilliant a merger of puppetry and computer animation that I
have ever seen – are the personification of these emotions.
In Maurice Sendak’s book, known the world over, we find a
story of a crazy and chaotic universe. A place where the
emotions of a child’s heart are allowed to run supreme.
And the movie is effectively the same experience. Young Max
(an irrepressible Max Records) runs away from home, into the
forest, onto a boat, and across the fields of a remote island,
where the creatures live.
Voiced by everyone from James Gandolfini to Forest Whitaker,
these monsters never quite seem scary. From scene one they are
cracking jokes, stuttering in their lines, projecting every
bit as much insecurity as Max himself. They elect him as their
king, and he leads them in building an elaborate fort. They
find a sense of community, feel a little bit of what it means
for a monster and human to become best friends.
What might stun some audiences, of all ages, is how little
actually happens in this movie. Imagine a group of monsters
running around the woods of a barren island, and a child with
nothing to do all day, and that’s the plot of the film. A
lot of frolicking, joking and howling at the sky. It’s a
Saturday daydream of a thing, with no real agenda.
Which is precisely why I loved
it so. Yes, part of the message here is that monsters are not
to be feared – just like the turbulent emotions of childhood
are things that should be moderated, even as they are
embraced. But there’s an added layer here, as the boy starts
to become a man in front of these wild things who look to him
for guidance. He learns what it’s like to deal with monsters
as wild as him, grappling with the same sensations that
typically await grown children on their way out of college –
when they realize that they must now brave the wilds alone.
Setting all this in a gorgeous, surrealistic landscape, where
rugged cliffs blend with forests and deserts, Jonze plays with
reality here. All of the monsters have different shapes and
personalities. The rules of gravity only intermittently apply.
Things can quickly go dark and then bright, scary and then
silly. This is a fairy tale for adults, awash in style,
nostalgia and the relentless energy of youth.
So in a sense, everything is happening just as nothing is
happening. A child is merely wasting away time in his
daydream, but also proving himself in his ultimate wonderland
and growing through the experience. And Jonze patiently allows
the action to unfold, not pushing it forward with any
contrived plot developments but instead proving content enough
to love his characters – both beast and boy – while
accepting the fact that there is something to be learned and
cherished in these doodles of childhood.
Rarely has a film been made that so idolizes the curiosity,
uncertainty and euphoria of childhood.
While kids will love the monsters and the landscape, it’s
the kid on the screen who may just send adults away in tears.
Jonze films young Records almost as if he were the director’s
own child, recognizing an old soul in this young face, a full
heart in this little boy who’s just looking for someone to
share his dreams with.
E-mail: SnyderReviews@hotmail.com
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