Where The Wild Things Are vs Being John Malkovich

There’s a lot of debate swirling over whether Where the Wild Things Are is too scary for kids. Did you see E.T. as a kid? Did you survive, or were you scared to death? If you survived, then a kid could survive Where the Wild Things Are. Relax. A little secret about your kid: when he’s 13, he’s going to watch Saw at a sleepover. If you haven’t prepared him for this a little by introducing a few safe, fun, scary things into his life, and paying attention to his reactions to them, then when he’s 13 and sees Saw, he’s going to freak the fuck out. Some parts of Where the Wild Things Are are indeed scary. Being scared of them, especially as a kid, is a sign of emotional intelligence. Being happy about happy things? Healthy. Being sad when things are sad? Healthy. Being scared when things are scary? Healthy. At one point in Where the Wild Things Are, a character says, “Happiness isn’t always the best way to be happy.” Kids can handle darker themes than you realize.

Jeez. The best part of not having kids is not having to hang out with the pussy parents of other kids.

Where the Wild Things Are is the latest from director Spike Jonze, and really, that’s probably the best way to think of it. Think of it first as a movie from the director of Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, rather than a new kids movie based on the beloved Maurice Sendak picture book. Jonze’s take on Sendak’s book is to expand it, fill in all the blanks between its pages, as well as padding the beginning and end, adding more human characters, and giving the Wild Things names and dialogue. You could probably read the book in five minutes, ten if you really poured over the illustrations. I’m sure it was a daunting task, although turning He’s Just Not That Into You into a movie was probably harder.

Max (Max Records) is a kid, possibly a bad kid, who lives with his mother and older sister. He wears a wolf suit for most of the movie; I’m assuming it was either from a school play or Halloween. Regardless, it suits him. When Max plays, he’s wild. The movie opens with him blurring through the house, chasing the family dog. Later, after building a huge igloo across the street (alone), he gets carried away with a snowball fight against his sister’s friends, sees his fort destroyed, and tearfully exacts the type of revenge so brutal it could only take place between angry siblings. At dinner one night, he makes a scene and bites his mother (Catherine Keener, only on screen briefly, but felt the entire movie). He’s got big punishment coming, and runs away, down the street, into the woods, into a boat, across the ocean, to Where the Wild Things Are.

There, he finds Carol (James Gandolfini), a huge hairy creature, smashing his village, a tiny gathering of huts shaped like hornets’ nests. He’s surrounded by other similar creatures, each more amusing, confusing and terrifying than the last. The actors voicing the beasts are perfectly cast, hilarious, and all delivering their lines casually; no monster voices, no cartoonish inflections. I’ve already revealed Gandolfini, so I’ll let you discover the rest. At first, they want to eat Max (and I believed they were going to), but then he declares himself their king, and they fall in line. Max’s idea of being king is similar, I’m assuming, to how he behaves on the playground: he decides when and what they play, and when the games change, and when someone’s cheating or being too rough. It might also be a hint at the kind of family he’d like, with secrets being shared and everyone sleeping in a big pile, like puppies or laundry. Carol says he wants “a place where only the things you wanna have happen, happen”, and for a while, that’s what Max and the things get.

Where the Wild Things Are is visually unlike anything else out there (unlike anything that’s ever been out there?). The things appear to be living, breathing creatures, but share characteristics with stuffed animals and Muppets. Think Chewbacca, only fatter and voiced by Tony Soprano. I’m sure there’s some CGI and miniature work, but I couldn’t find it. And the land they live in is impressive as well. The things live in a burned out forest, near a desert, with mountains and oceans nearby. Carol has built a model version of their home out of sticks, complete with tiny clay figurines, that is every bit the wonder of the actual film’s setting. The peak of Max’s stay with the things involves the construction of a fort that is straight out of every kid’s mental treehouse design, including a tiny hiding place for people smaller than their thing friends. And lest you think the clever design is limited to the fantasy elements of the movie, Max’s bedroom is the best, most realistic movie bedroom since Elliot’s in E.T. (And Max Records rivals Henry Thomas with a performance that never feels like anything besides actual fun, obnoxious, sweaty, misunderstood childhood.)

Spike Jonze knows what he’s doing. Where the Wild Things Are is funny, touching (the end is a killer), and yes, at times, scary (Max hides inside the belly of one of things at one point, and I wasn’t sure he’d be let back out). It’s as surreal and unconventional as anything Jonze has done, and it may or may not be right for your children. I don’t have kids, so I thought it rocked. It’s also why I can go home, drink some beer and watch Gremlins, The Empire Strikes Back, Willy Wonka, or any number of other movies made with kids in mind, but deemed by some to be too much for them to handle. Even better, I can watch more Spike Jonze.

Being John Malkovich is the first, possibly best film from Spike Jonze. It follows the lives of Craig Schwartz (John Cusack) a puppeteer who gets mixed into a business venture with Maxine (Catherine Keener), when he finds that the tiny door in his office leads directly into the brain of John Malkovich, who plays himself. Things become more complicated with Craig’s wife, Lotte (Cameron Diaz) becomes involved, turning Being John Malkovich into a tangle of love triangles, head trips, mistaken-and-switched identities, and you know, the nature of self and ego. Stuff like that. It’s got one of the very best screenplays of the past couple decades, a performance from John Malkovich that demands rewinding, and even more laughs than you remember. You should watch it again, as soon as possible, in the middle of the night, eating ice cream straight from the carton. You’re an adult, you can do what you want.

Where the Wild Things Are: A

Being John Malkovich: A