where the child things are

i’m going to see where the wild things are tonight. it’s been a long time since i was this excited to see an adaptation; the trailer makes me teary.

the memory of the stuff, the wonder, the ferocious desire to explore that is childhood makes me eager to see the translation, but i do have a word of caution for these book warriors.

everyone wants ready-made audiences these days, the pre-built franchise, but it’s a dangerous thing to mess with the memories of a generation of wild things. i hope they come armed with a heart and plot to match the effects, for we wild things know how to vote with our wallets.

we have bought our tickets, so you’ve at least got our attention for now, but you have to earn the repeat viewing, the dvd sales, the merchandise.

childhood nostalgia on tilt; expectations officially soaring!

please live up to them. please live up to them. please live up to them.

and for those of you who are new to the magic that is maurice sendak, do not let the movie alone be your experience, for nothing can substitute the turning of a page that sparks your own imagination…

**update**
i liked it; i didn’t love it. and i spent pretty much all of act two watching between two fingers to see if the hand-cam would keep me motion-sick; it did. i am sensitive to that, and i know it’s all the rage, but in this case i have to say i think they used it to try and stir up action where there really wasn’t any.

act one was solid, great, expectations still good. i was on board with max; ice-fort problems suck.

they diverged early from the book. i got why, but it was noted.

it’s ironic that in the land of the wild things is where the action pretty much stopped, the dramatic action anyway. lots of activity, not a lot of dramatic action driving the story forward. i really felt the two conflicted voices of the writers. it’s as if they couldn’t agree on whether to be whimsical or edgy, and it wound up being sort of neither: not really for kids, and not really for adults. and, no, not really for wild things either.

depressed wild things. hm, that seems like an idea i would come up with that my agent would respond with, “wtf, you do want people to go SEE this, right?” yeah.

i still cried, but the kid did possess a great deal of pathos, to the actor’s credit. and the directing, especially in the first act, was fantastic. it was from max’s perspective: all the angles of childhood where you basically spend all your time looking up or through things to see life, the world, what’s leaving you behind. yeah.

blink and you’ll miss the third act. there is NO real reason he leaves. he just kinda decides to and goes. it is not well-set-up, and that makes me squint in their general direction. then it’s like boom he’s back, mom stares at him while he eats soup, and that’s sort of that.

i still hate to heart dave eggers, but, um, yeah, i will not be seeing this again. i will not be buying the dvd. i will not be buying a plush wild thing.

luckily, i still have my actual book from childhood, which is, you know, gift enough.