Okay, so these lumbering, goofy-looking creatures aren’t exactly going to send a shiver down your spine. Not all my transitions are created equal. Never mind. In any case, “Where the Wild Things Are” should still be considered a must-see for anyone who has yet to make pilgrimage out to Hampshire Mall. Based on the beloved children’s book by Maurice Sendak, the film is a sublime journey into the imagination of a young boy named Max, bursting with the kind of raw emotion that we often only seem able to channel in childhood. Shifting tones from unadulterated joy to a crushing sense of pain and loss at the drop of a hat, director Spike Jonze (“Being John Malkovich,” “Adaptation”) has created yet another cinematic gem, and firmly established himself among the most original filmmakers in Hollywood today.
Before journeying to the land of the titular Wild Things, the film opens with an extraordinary 15-minute sequence that perfectly captures the spirit and energy of its protagonist. Max (played by an incredible young boy named Max Records, whose performance seriously deserves to be considered for award recognition) is first seen charging down the stairs, shrieking with utter abandon as he chases after the family dog; the camera shakes wildly as it tries to capture this moment of such frantic movement, as if the frame can barely contain this child’s energy. It would be difficult to describe Max as anything other than a typical nine-year-old: he invents wild stories about walking buildings and vampires, constructs a snow fort, and wages war on his teenage sister and her friends and retaliates in kind when the fort is destroyed. When his gentle and loving mother (the always-wonderful Catherine Keener) finally loses her patience during another tantrum, Max runs out of the house, and at this point we assumedly leave “reality,” as Max soon finds himself guiding a small sailboat to the island of the Wild Things.
Summarizing what happens on that island would be doing an injustice to the sense of discovery and imagination that pervades every scene. Suffice to say, Max quickly becomes king of the Wild Things, a position which he discovers is not without its trials and tribulations. The Wild Things exhibit a curious range of child-like and adult behavior and emotion; there are moments when some of the Wild Things sound like Max, and moments when they seem more reminiscent of his sister or his mother. They can be mentors and friends to Max as they joyously band together to construct an enormous fortress (the snow fort at the beginning turns out to be a nifty bit of foreshadowing), or dissolve into despair and bitterness as they challenge his leadership. Perhaps this is why, despite their bizarre outward appearances, they feel so incredibly human.
It helps that the actors chosen to voice the Wild Things are all pitch-perfect for their roles. Too often, in animated films and the like, voice actors are chosen for their star power, rather than their ability to play the role. There are no such problems here. James Gandolfini and Lauren Ambrose stand out as Carol and KW, the two Wild Things to whom Max grows particularly attached, but Paul Dano, Chris Cooper, Forest Whitaker and Catherine O’Hara all deserve credit for their remarkable work in bringing these endearing creatures to life. The Wild Things themselves were produced using a mixture of seven-foot-tall costumes (created by the Jim Henson Company) and computer-generated effects, giving the monsters the expression that is critical to the story’s emotional impact. They seem mostly rather cuddly and loveable, but there can be a sudden edge to their appearance when necessary.
It is nearly impossible to think of a film with which to compare “Where the Wild Things Are.” It is a film about being a child, but that’s not quite right; Max’s plight resonates far beyond his years. It is a film about family, but that’s still not quite right; there is such a strong element of individuality present from beginning to end. It’s a coming-of-age story, but that’s not quite right either; for all of the sadness and pain that Max (and the audience) experiences, the illusion, the enchantment of the Wild Things is still there. He probably learned something from his time on the island, but tomorrow, you can be sure Max will be back outside, playing in the snow. Maybe he’s not a king, but he’s still a kid.