Oct 15 2009
Movie Review: Where the Wild Things Are
Tim Falletti
When I was nine years old, my family and I went on a vacation to Florida. My oldest sister was 19 and my middle sister was 13. As the youngest little “bratty” brother, I wasn’t old or cool enough to hang out with my sisters. I spent most of my time playing with my Ninja Turtle and comic book superhero toys by myself while my sisters were off doing whatever it was than teenage girls did. I desperately wanted to fit in with them and hang out with them but now, as a 28 year old man, I understand why I couldn’t. The magic of being myself though, imagining the battles between Spider-Man and Master Splinter, is still something I fondly recall. That pure childlike wonder…that pure imagination…that pureness of a 9 year old boy who just didn’t quite belong in the real world with all the adults, is what Where The Wild Things Are is all about.
Where the Wild Things Are isn’t a typical kids movie. Let’s get that out there right now. There isn’t any talking gerbils or chipmunks running around. There aren’t any fart jokes or silly cliched pop culture references. This is an adult children’s movie. I honestly do not know how director Spike Jonze got the studio to go along with it. This movie is a love letter to adults about their childhoods.
I’m not going to beat around the bush. Where the Wild Things Are is the best movie I have seen this year. Sorry District 9. Sorry Hurt Locker. I say this without even a hint of hyperbole: Where the Wild Things Are is the best movie in this genre since The Wizard of Oz. What Oz did for 1939, Where the Wild Things are will do for 2009. This movie deserves to be held in the pantheon of discussion with a movie like Wizard of Oz. I laughed. I was scared. I was filled with emotion. I was a child again for an hour an a half.
Thank you Spike Jonze. Thank you.
