Where the Wild Things Are.

I went to the midnight showing of Where the Wild Things Are on Thursday/Friday. It was a last-minute decision, but I’m glad I ended up going! I’m not WTWTA-crazy like most hipsters people; I only remember reading the book in the beginning of the summer, to see what all the hype was about. While I’ll admit it was a very compelling and sincere children’s book, I still don’t really see why Urban Outfitters has gone apeshit and why so many people have tattoo sleeves dedicated to it. I was all about the Berenstain Bears series as a kid, you don’t see me living in a tree house, wearing a bonnet, you know? I digress.

I know part of the excitement for this film had to do with Spike Jonze. Again, I’m not an insane person about him – pretty much, I know him from Jackass and dating Michelle Williams – but I will contend that he is pretty brills! The story of Where the Wild Things Are itself is simple (thirty-eight pages, right?), and there’s really only so much you can do with that. You can interpret Max’s relationship with his mother in a number of ways, and create your own backstory of the “wild things” until you’re sick of it. The story Spike wrote for the characters encompassed in the book and now film really spoke to the different ideas I had after we read the book in my Writing Children’s Story class. We decided that Max’s mom was, most likely, a single mother on her last nerve. Max was acting out for attention and – it’s almost cliche at this point, but – a child of divorce would act in such a way.

But on top of the script, the look of the entire movie had even the doofusiest, high out of their minds teenagers who also showed up to the midnight showing completely noiseless. I won’t describe it, I’ll just show you.

Also, Max Records (stage name?) looks a little Ellen Pagey, no?

(picture source)