Benjamin's Review of Where the Wild Things Are
The fact that they are making this movie is of tremendous importance to me. I have planned for roughly half my life to make this movie, so if they screw it up I might die, or I might be relieved because I can make a remake. Alternatively if it is awesome I might be like "sweet!" or I might be like "crap!" because then I can't remake it. My life is wrought with dilemmas.
WHAT?!?!?!? WHAT?????? WHAT HAPPENED?????? WHAT?!?!?!?!
Spike Jonze just friggin jumped on the face part of my head, on purpose. What does he think this is, a Terrence Malick movie? THIS IS WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE. GET WITH THE PROGRAM. And what the crap Karen O.? Way to drop the ball. I felt like I was watching a transmogrified version of rebel without a cause where everybody gets replaced with monster versions of themselves except James Dean who just gets smaller and trades in his red jacket for pajamas with ears. There's a difference between being childish and being childlike, and there's a difference between being overwhelmed by cruelty and being overwhelmed by every little problem. I don't know exactly how to say it, but the movie was not honest to the experience of being overwhelmed, hurt, or alone, and certainly not to what alternatives a child would create in order to cope. And soft, woeful, background indie rock is not wild, and when you were a kid you did not sit around ruminating lazily... you ruminated hard. Whatever, I'm not trying to tell you how you ruminated when you were a kid, I'm just saying this movie lacked a bassline, had no screaming solos, and hardly even had a riff. I don't really know what a riff is, but this movie sure didn't teach me, did it?
It made me really sad that I couldn't love this movie.