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.