The sidewalks, bus stops, and billboards (and conversations, for that matter) of Los Angeles are glutted with advertisements for Where the Wild Things Are–the upcoming Spike Jonze directed, David Eggers written, Karen O. scored, and Arcade Fire infused trailer’ed adaptation of the beloved children’s book by Maurice Sendak.

Hype much? Just a little?

True, excitement is justified for one of the most compelling filmmakers of his generation bringing to the silver screen a seminal story that taps into the collective experience of childhood. But does it live up to the hype? Mmm…yes and no.

Jonze’s mostly handheld camera, helmed by cinematographer Lance Acord, moves deftly throughout the film in a way that could be considered a refreshing clinic on the oft-used technique.  Yeah Yeah Yeah’s front woman Karen O contributes to the film’s score in a way that’s haunting, lyrical, and in some regard, masterful. And then there is Eggers. While most of the story is seemingly storyless (this is the my biggest complaint), some outstanding moments tug so genuinely at the heartstrings that they almost make up for the the lack of proper plotting. In short: Where the Wild Things Are is a very well made film but certainly one that will leave its (older) audience wanting more in terms of narrative substance.

Amongst the dazzle, the spectacle, the coolness of execution, what holds the film so firmly together is the performance of Max Records, the young boy who stars as the picture’s lead character. His naturalistic interpretation is so rooted in nuance that his demonstration of truthfulness in characterization should be studied by actors three times his age. I’ve not been so affected by the experience of a young child on screen since E.T. Just as E.T. did, Where the Wild Things Are strongly hearkens back to a film I always return to for inspiration and a bit of catharsis: Truffaut’s The 400 Blows. In this regard, I can forgive the film’s narrative short-comings. This is a picture that explores the loneliness, confusion, and frustrations that inhabit a child’s world, sometimes paired simultaneously with the excitement and joy that is more commonly discussed on page and screen.

Children’s lives are generally not filled with great intrigue, plot turns, and drama, but are defined more so by the little experience they have, from which they can create the stuff of their imaginations. Taking that into account, it seems that if the filmmakers decided to over expand on the simplistic devices used in the picture’s source material, they would have been acting in such a way that runs contrary to the very purpose of the original story itself (expressing our young boy Max’s world in a more elaborately plotted fashion would serve to run counter to Sendak’s intention).

There has been much talk about how this isn’t a movie for children; in my mind it most certainly is. This is a film for children who think, who feel, and who live real lives. It is not for the children that parents, older brothers, sisters, and family friends see, but for the children who run around playgrounds and play alone with action figures. And if–for just a moment–it can get us older folk to remember the simpler experiences, the more visceral experiences of the feelings that define the growing up process, then Mr. Jonze has succeeded whole heartedly in what I feel he has set out to accomplish.

Where the Wild Things Are opens in theatres across the country this Friday, October 16.

—

Every child deserves the right to read. Reading Tree is an organization whose mission it is to bring used books to children in need by donating books to schools, libraries and family’s while freeing up space in our nation’s landfills. Check out the Act section below to get involved.