Where the Wild Things Are

Deal Score0
Deal Score0

Through his handcrafted ode to the trials of childhood, Spike Jonze puts his own unique imprint on Maurice Sendak’s enduring classic. In the prologue, 9-year-old Max (Max Records) stomps around the house, feeling neglected. When his mom (Catherine Keener) sends him to bed without supper, Max runs away (something he doesn’t do in the book). He finds a boat and sails to a distant land where fuzzy monsters are raising a rumpus in the forest. Since his wolf suit allows him to fi… More >>

Where the Wild Things Are

This site uses affiliate links and if you click on one and make a purchase we may receive a commission payment.


  1. pretty much anything else that could be wrong with a film is in this one.

    I don’t care about practically anyone involved in the making of this film; Jonze made one really great film and has yet to reach that level once again, Karen O. is a joke amongst a group of people who I like to refer as people with taste and an ability to comprehend good music as being more than posing like a moron for the cover of Spin.

    I know nothing about the book, read it once in 1st grade, never again. I went to see it tonight because it seemed interesting and my lady wanted to see it; we both left equally disgusted, but for separate reasons; she holds the book dear to her heart in relation to her childhood, I was disgusted from a cinephile’s standpoint; nothing, absolutely nothing, about the film is redeemable in any way shape or form.

    The cinematography was so mundane and middle of the road that it was lingering on sleep inducing; the voice acting was phoned in, the story was so up its own sphincter that it, again, almost put me to sleep; this is a film where the director was so full of himself that it’s painful to watch the end product (a director’s ego sometimes results in great films, but this is NOT one of them).

    Again, the soundtrack, Karen O. proved in the recent documentary on the NY No Wave movement how much of a general moron she is and that her whole existence is a shallow mockery of anything good or decent in the world, and her soundtrack shows this to be concretely true.

    It isn’t a kid’s film, this would put a kind into a coma, it’s not an adult’s film, it’s a film for no one other than Jonze and the people who wasted hours upon hours constructing the suits.

    From now on I’ll just stick to Ghibli, family entertainment with depth, gorgeous images and brilliant soundtracks.
    Rating: 1 / 5

  2. I would rather sit through a painful root canal than to sit through the agonizing boredom I experienced watching this film. Even the children next to me at the theater were bored to tears, and one was even playing on his Nintendo (I don’t blame him in the least). I really tried to give this film a chance (and the snooty discerning indie side of me wanted to love it), but after 30 minutes, I wanted to shove my head in my tub of popcorn and suffocate my self to death.
    Rating: 1 / 5

  3. I was annoyed with this disjointed and violent film until about halfway through, when I began to think of it as an adult fable about George W. Bush, the American people, and the war in Iraq.

    Max, the protagonist, starts a war for fun and decides who the good guys and bad guys are before the battle begins. The American people go along with this, even when their wounded come home missing limbs. They look to the king of their empire to make everything better, attempting to absolve themselves of all responsibility for making this spoiled tyrant their king in the first place.

    If this wasn’t a fable for adults, fine, but this definitely wasn’t a children’s movie, either.

    “He’s just a boy, pretending to be a wolf, pretending to be a king…and we all went along with it.”

    I don’t know if Jonze and Eggers intended the subtext I read into, one of many possible interpretations. I’m a firm believer that if one looks for something hard enough, one will find it. The film was quite plotless, so I tried to make meaning of it as something besides a travelogue.
    Rating: 3 / 5

  4. My wife and I saw this with our 8-year-old. She hated it. We hated it. Most of the other kids in the theater ended up running around the lobby half-way through because it bored them.

    The “wild things” are not charming. They are whiny and obnoxious. Imagine being cooped up for two hours with 6 kids from hell, and that’s what you get in this movie. How anyone can find anything charming in this movie is beyond me.

    Rating: 1 / 5

  5. This film jumps around between gravely disturbing, mind-numbingly tedious, naively innocent, and severely depressing. Our nearly seven-year-old daughter and her friend were bored to tears, our two-year-old was freaked out, and our whole family felt simply awful afterwards. What a waste of time, money, nerves, and my 35th birthday!

    (Warning! Minor spoilers follow–as if anything could spoil the viewing of this movie more than the movie itself.)

    The film’s main message seems to be that just because your parents get divorced, or your monstrous girlfriend moves out, or your older sister starts hanging out with other friends instead of you, or your mom starts dating again, or, worst of all, she decides to cook frozen corn instead of “real” corn … does not mean that it is acceptable behavior for you to trash someone’s bedroom, bite someone’s shoulder, destroy someone’s house, or tear someone’s arm off. If only you would finally pull back that wolf hood and realize that your demented actions have exhausted your poor mother (and an entire audience).

    The filmmakers somehow manage to deliver their message in a simultaneously heavy-handed and vague way. Most viewers will not grasp it, and those few who do will probably not have need of it. If you dare watch this cinematic abomination–which life-sucking action I would never recommend–please understand that you will be subjected to displays of emotional instability the likes of which have not been witnessed since Anakin Skywalker graced the screen. At least Anakin had a cool lightsaber to vent his frustrations; besides using a fork and his teeth, our dear friend Max can do nothing but track snow into the house, defiantly stand on the kitchen counter, and conjure up a pile of dysfunctional overgrown tater tots (and a goat) to help him explore every ugly facet of his consciousness.

    You should also be prepared for some ambiguity: I believed for an overlong period that Max’s older sister was actually some across-the-street neighbor that Max had a crush on, so imagine my surprise when Max’s mother suddenly asked the girl to clear her things off the table for dinner! Another confusing bit is the fact that the main tater tot-creature is named Carol even though he is male, and this character is first seen when he is destroying houses for a reason which will remain unclear unless you can decipher his shouts amidst all the bangs, booms, and gnashing of teeth.

    The movie has an air of being steeped in symbolism or in child psychology, but really all that comes across is alarming juvenile psychopathy with a shallow, incomplete, and one-sided resolution.

    Several inconsistencies appear in the film, the most upsetting of which has to do with physical injury. When one character is sharply struck with a dirt clod, his resulting wound and suffering are clearly evident; yet when another character loses his arm in a scene which is not graphic but still gruesome, the filmmakers conveniently gloss over any expected pain and replace it with a cheesy joke. How inappropriate and insulting!

    The movie is not at all a delightful adaptation of a beloved children’s book. It provides absolutely no entertainment for children or adults. Its seeming claims to educational value are far from viable. It embodies a perfect recipient of the complaint relegated to poor films: “That’s two hours of my life I’ll never get back!”

    Rating: 1 / 5

Leave a reply

Register New Account
Reset Password