Where the Wild Things Are

Do you remember what it was like to be nine years old? Not the sanitized, colorful version animated movies usually sell us, but the raw, confusing, and often lonely reality of childhood? If you're hitting play on Where the Wild Things Are expecting a lighthearted Toy Story-style adventure to distract the kids on a Sunday afternoon, stop right there. What we have here isn't just a distraction; it's a mirror. Over 90 minutes, we're faced with a film that dares to treat a child not as a naive little being, but as a complex creature. It's a divisive movie: to some, it's a misunderstood masterpiece; to others, a test of patience.

It's almost miraculous what Jonze and Dave Eggers managed to pull off with a book of only 350 words. They didn't just respect Sendak's work; they crafted a new story that deserves to be remembered for generations. Skipping the obvious plot summaries, I'd actually compare this movie to The Graduate, but for kids. That might sound like a stretch, but both deal with protagonists caught on the border between two worlds, facing the realities of growing up and running away to safe havens of immaturity. Max, much like Benjamin Braddock, has to accept that you can't spend your life running away-a wake-up call that comes through his interactions with everyone around him.

The way Max is portrayed left me intrigued and, at times, a bit confused. He's shown as such a wild and troubled kid that my first instinct was to armchair-diagnose him with some serious disorder, maybe autism, even though the movie seems to just treat him as a troubled kid from a broken home. The biggest issue for me was the lack of a clear external goal. The storyline basically boils down to Max trying not to get eaten and coming up with pointless projects, like building a giant spherical fort. This lack of direction made the story feel episodic and dragged out. I have to be honest: there were several moments where I was just bored.

If there's one thing you can't argue with, t...