Where the Wild Things Are (Jonze)

Seen in February

I couldn't do it. I thought this movie would poignantly and nostalgically recall my life a decade ago, but I was wrong. Unlike others from that time (Kaufman, PTA etc) this never authentically aligned with my taste, I just wanted it to, and it never profoundly influenced my development. It only partially represents something (or someone) that profoundly influenced my development, which is apparently one degree too many removed (one too many degrees removed, one degree removed too many). Not only did watching it now fail to resurface my former soul, I couldn't even enjoy it. I mainly found out what my former soul was not: keen to cheap childishness. That's a lot of this movie, from the humor to the music to the pathos. As ten years since, I like the idea of this movie, and the cover of my DVD still suggests exquisite escape. But as ten years since, the actual watching was painful. Not that it's necessarily a bad movie -- I guess it really is for kids, in a way some children's classics (I can't actually think of any in film) are not. It's not just youthful or child-oriented, it's childish, I guess. It's like how that Hobbit from the 70s took childlike yet intelligent material and dumbed it needlessly. See that post. Material for children needn't be dumb. I would argue this movie is dumber than it needs to be, from blameless source material if I remember right. How would Hollywood translate The Giving Tree? Hopefully with tremendous care, even caution -- a keen sense and a heart of gold. I'm not passionate about The Giving Tree, but I hate to see purity ravaged to "pander lame toddlers" as I wrote in my 70s Hobbit post. The new Lion King may be guilty. As I consider it, I seem to think this about almost all children's movies, from 50s Disney to Pixar and anything live-action I can recall. I'm almost universally disappointed by cheap childishness, stemming from stupidity. Great work for children should probably make artistic sense to maturer populations, and therefore must be wrought with great intelligence. Though seemingly rare in film, one might assign such greatness to some of these literary sources: Sendak, Silverstein, Tolkien, Carroll, etc. Why do movies chronically fail to translate such classic simplicity without inserting stupidity? Film as a medium is more so predicated on stimulation and entertainment than literature is -- that's both the audience and the authors. Sendak and his audience sought something different from Jonze and his -- so why adapt? I've never loved book-to-film adaptations, and this may reveal one reason. The whole thing seems ill-intended. Filmmakers can hardly achieve the same connection with their audience as the source authors with theirs, and hardly achieve a suitable replacement. Adaptations reliably make money. They spike interest in the source. But I don't really believe they serve the source in most cases, and they certainly rarely stand alone well. Even my beloved Lord of the Rings movies suck as stand-alones, I believe. That is, they're not great movies -- they're great human efforts in universalizing great literature. When adaptations are well-intended, they're ignorant. Peter Jackson should never have hoped to serve Tolkien or represent him to any respectable degree -- just to launch a respectable effort, if not simply make outrageous money. Jonze shouldn't hope to represent, succeed or serve Sendak.

The first time I saw it I had high expectations based on the concept -- the source material, Jonze, the visual style, Karen O... But watching it was laborious, even back then, in my general naivete. It was nowhere near as beautiful to me as the concept suggested. The characters weren't really likable. The style was playful in an annoying way, when it was playful. Character likability matters, though some of my favorite movies have minimally likable characters. This movie was childish in an annoying rather than inspiring way. I have to say, even reading Sendak's book back then, I remember not really enjoying it. It didn't seem beautiful at all, with little else to compensate. I could only really justify it for kids. The movie is a mix of childish pandering and adult taste that didn't really add up.

I didn't finish it this time. I couldn't justify it -- I wasn't enjoying it and it wasn't reflecting my past in any enlightening way. It's associated with a time and person from the past, and not much more to me. The association never deepened enough, probably because despite my efforts, it didn't really suit my taste, and maybe it came too late. Why do I like Peter Pan? Probably because it came early and often. Where the Wild Things Are came late and but once, and that's a recipe for not caring about a kids movie.

Interstellar

5/1/15 review, 5/22/15 review

3/6/21

I saw this (twice I believe) around 2015 and not again till now. I still find it fascinating and thrilling, and possibly beautiful and inspiring, though it's not the revelation it was then and I'm keener in calling out the BS. I think it's fascinating (scientifically and philosophically) because it confronts cosmic situations closer than any other movie. Movies psychologically penetrate more effectively than most forms of communication it seems, and this is the first movie I've seen that seriously attempts to depict interstellar travel and black holes (and therefore our cosmic context). The results are ridiculous but groundbreaking, which means we've never quite considered it like this. I believe I said this in my last review: this movie will probably feel totally ridiculous in a matter of years or decades, but for us I feel it's a valiant step forward. Of course the concepts are not new -- scientists and artists have been grappling with them -- but here they coalesce in a movie, which is a particularly effective medium for many. Maybe I should just watch the sky more and read cosmology/astronomy. I doubt I needed a movie to think like this -- but I do like movies, and this one I felt compelled to revisit after seemingly profound experiences six years ago. This movie is an attempt to depict interstellar travel with sight, sound, and story. I can access at least one of these at a time through several other media, and should try, as film is not the medium I respect most. But I do like film, especially some films influential to my life. Maybe these experiences in 2015 weren't as influential as they were emotionally profound. This movie inspires my awe and contemplation. I must have far too little cosmology in my life! I should probably achieve a relationship with these concepts such that the movie feels as cheap a representation as those classic physics visualizations like the general relativity trampoline, or those middle school climbing walls. Watching it should just feel dumb, like I've already grappled with the real stuff. It should feel like watching the climbing scenes in MI:II or something: okay, there's a real move, there's some bullshit, overall, that was alright, at least it gets the people excited about climbing, and now I know more about climbing's public image, but I didn't learn anything about climbing. Based on my Yu-Gi-Oh image of a black hole prior to seeing this movie, I'm clearly not interfacing with this stuff enough, which is how someone might feel watching Hollywood climbing. Hollywood in one of its best manifestations, I suppose, serves such a role. Interstellar sows cosmic contemplation broadly, as Free Solo inspires a whole population who never knew climbing was accessible to them. But the next time you feel like considering the cosmos, or considering exposed handjamming, don't watch the movie -- look at the sky, hit the hills, or at least read a book, because the movie is the Wal-Mart version of these things (though actually more expensive).

So it's fascinating to me like Free Solo is to my friends who don't climb. I used to regularly think about things you'd find in a philosophy class. I don't feel very philosophical anymore -- just analytical. Analysis deprived of philosophy ("love of wisdom") gets chilly. Philosophy is the sun that warms that which it vitalizes. I feel like those advanced organisms stewing in the sea millions of years ago while plants were already enjoying the air, or like a platonic cave-dweller bragging about my predictions on the sequence of shadows. I don't want Interstellar to feel so profound. Nothing will feel profound if I already know everything, but certainly I can spare a little more time with cosmology, enough to see Interstellar as a mere dramatization, hardly a revelation. Dramatizations make tough concepts accessible, but I already have plenty of access to work with. I could even get something out of a general relativity textbook. Kip Thorne didn't learn anything about cosmology from Christopher Nolan -- the movie would have been entertaining at best, as any climbing scene is to me. I've already confronted the content. In such a case the dramatization is probably a waste of time and I wouldn't need to bother with movies like this. That's something to aspire to.

It is emotional. The black dude was alone on that station for 23 years. Cooper misses almost the entirety of Murphy's life. Everyone will die without the knowledge that s/he significantly affected the evolution of the universe. We're like flies smacking a truck's grill -- technically we exert a force on the truck equal to its on us, but hell if the truck notices. If m is the whole of everything, F is my life, and a is my impact, given F<<m, despite an appreciable life, F=ma says my impact is unfathomably miniscule. But as a human I'm made to surf ego as long as I live, and these brief wipeouts are devastating. Was this ego evolution's building block or byproduct? Any given being may care primarily for itself, but whence came the longing for all beings to care for me primarily? I don't imagine if you convinced a representative from any other earthly species of its eschatological influence it would care much. Even its own death would probably seem nice -- of course its instincts avoid it, but if you're having a conversation, death checks all the boxes: no hunger, no thirst, no fear, whatever. Maybe you lose some luxuries, but the loss of luxury paired with the total fulfillment of all needs forever is nothing to complain about, yet humans fear death conceptually.

Anyway, I liked the movie again, though I acknowledge its stupidity.