Where The Wild Things Are Not

So yes, I saw it today. And I'll admit, I was stoked about it. And I'll also admit that I made sure I read nothing about it beforehand, other than what Maurice Sendak thought about the film. I wanted no one else's opinion clouding my viewing of the film.

Now I'll tell you why that was a bad idea.

This is most definitely NOT the story that I fell in love with as a kid. That's not to say that it doesn't make for fantastic viewing or that it doesn't stand up as good cinema on its own right. It does. It's just not *my* Where the Wild Things Are, that's all. And chances are, it's not yours either.

Let me also add here, if you were planning on taking your small children with you, please reconsider. I don't want to tell you how to parent your children, but mine were afraid of E.T. when he made that scream sound. These are violent grown-up monsters acting like giant children. If they were voiced by child actors, that might have taken the edge off of them. But we're looking at Tony Soprano threatening to eat people and worse... threatening God-knows-what that everyone is frightened he might do. He's bipolar. And the other monsters are suffering from all sort of other very adult ailments, like severe depression and anger management issues.

And Max is not easy to like either. He's a spoiled, narcissistic momma's boy with severe ADHD and anger issues, who can't seem to cope with his mother's single status. We don't know how long she's been single, or even why she's alone, just that he doesn't like not having all of her attention.

Honestly, after 30 minutes of that mix of monstrous personalities, I felt like I was right back where I was last year, when I was living with my boyfriend's Borderline Personality Disorder coming head-to-head with my son's amphetamine-fueled rebound spats (Adderall was the wrong ADHD med for his body chemistry). It was all things flying, monsters running and screaming, doors being broken, wood being splintered everywhere. I really didn't want to be traumatized like that again today. And because I wasn't expecting it (like I wasn't expecting it back then), I just wanted to get up and leave the theater. It wasn't fun at all. And not funny either, even when it was.

The looming threats of violence take away from what's supposed to be childlike imagination. It borders on abusive, really. Actually, no... not borders... it is. Even the opening credits when Max is chasing his dog around the house and then wrestling with him. It's not cute at all... and if that was a real dog he was doing that to, I don't know how the ASPCA wasn't called.

I'll watch it another time on dvd, perhaps, and let the genius that is Spike Jonze settle in on its own. Now that I know it's not the story that I read... as I read it, that is... but a whole, different kind of beast, I should be able to see it from another perspective. Much like how my opinion has changed of my now ex-boyfriend and my son.

On a different note, the soundtrack was SUPERB... Karen O (of Yeah Yeah Yeahs fame) did a great job, although her pieces were very Animal Collective meets Danielson Famile. Wonder if the stress of dating the director caused their eventual split?

And one of the last credits of the movie goes to Final Cut Pro. That makes me very happy.

Finally, I also don't think I realized that I was Tzippy/KW when I read the book, or that I would grow to become her... but now I know. I still don't know why Jonze or Dave Eggers (who adapted the book) allowed the monster characters' names to be changed. They were all originally named after Sendak's uncles. If anyone knows, please enlighten me. Thanks!

And thanks for reading!

The Things I Do for Love

So I just got back from the most excruciating movie experience that I've had to endure since sitting through Cuba Gooding Jr in SNOW DOGS (2002). Before that, it had to be David Lynch's WILD AT HEART (1990). But those were excruciating for the embarrassment I felt for the actors involved. This time it was a different kind of pain.

My kids have been waiting patiently to see HARRY POTTER AND THE HALF-BLOOD PRINCE since it came out in the summer. Times are too tight to afford taking all 3 of them and myself to the movies, which can cost $24 just to get in for the AMC weekend early movie time ($6 per person). I've been putting them off and promising that the first weekend it showed at the nearby second-run theater (it should be noted that times are so bad, $1 movies are now $1.99).

Wouldn't you know it... this was the weekend it finally opened there... just a few days after I broke my effing tailbone!

It's been sad enough to watch them wait patiently all summer (damn that Harry Potter for being so popular it stayed in first-run theaters that long!), so I couldn't make them wait any longer and possibly have them miss it... tailbone pain be damned!

So I just got back from the 1:30 screening with the kids. Why didn't someone tell me that I'd have to be in there for two-and-a-half hours?!?! Do you know how hard it is to sit on one butt cheek for that long? Not to mention having to keep the other leg crossed over the lower leg, to improve the hip spread and keep from any undue pressure on the tailbone. Oh. My. God. I was in so much pain, I started sweating about 40 minutes in... now I'm drenched and exhausted.

And guess what my younger two said when we left? "Well, that movie sucked." Awesome. My oldest loved it, but he read the book and knows what's coming in the last 2 parts of the series.

Oh, can we talk about the second-run theater for a moment? It's a lot like seeing a movie with "The People of Walmart," if Walmart had a free health clinic. There were so many people in there coughing and sneezing, I'm certain that I've caught at least 3 different diseases.

Pardon me while I go pump myself full of vitamin C and ibuprofen now.

Down for the Count

So I fractured my coccyx the other day (yes, I broke my butt). It happened when it was raining and my old front porch gets as slippery as a boat dock... feet went right out from under me, shoes flying, purse scattered, keys in the mud... and me, bouncing the whole way down (about 8 steps) on my ass. Now I can't sit, stand or even lay down without extreme pain. Getting in and out of the car is a real joy. And who knew we used our butt muscles when we sneeze or laugh?! Man, this hurts. I can expect recovery time to take 6-8 weeks, with possible residual pain lasting some unknown length of time after that.

In other words, don't expect me to be readily accepting dates any time soon, even if you do offer to carry my inflatable ass donut.