I went to go see Where the Wild Things Are today at 1:45 at my local theater.

I’m not a WTWTA fanboy, and though my mom tells me I loved the book, when I was growing up I remember appreciating the story for what it was and not much more. When I was a kid, I didn’t relate to rebelliousness. I wasn’t starved for attention. The character of Max wasn’t really my kind of protagonist. And while it was cool that a forest grew in a kid’s room and he sails to a distant land (in and out of days) where he finds this group of things roaring and gnashing their teeth, I felt like there could have been more than just three or four pages of the things engaged in various activities until Max sends them off to bed without supper and decides he wants to go home. For all the ruckus about the wild things, I thought, when it comes down to it they’re really rather boring and not a satisfying escape at all. Even as a little kid I was critiquing stories.

The movie changes all that. The film, rather, written by Spike Jonze and Dave Eggers, turns that part of the story, the escape - into a meaty world and gives these previously unnamed and uncharacterized “wild things” names and personalities. The foremost of these is Carol (a dude), who is the largest and roundest of them all, as well as the most temperamental. Carol acts as a reflection of Max’s more base emotions, and it’s through this lens that we start to see all of the other wild things as children themselves.

The creatures are believable - not believable looking, but believable. The relationships are real. The conflicts are ongoing and lifelike. And it seems we, as viewers, are always given some reason to fear for Max. These creatures aren’t always so friendly, and even friendships aren’t sacred. There’s an ominous undercurrent throughout the whole film, especially regarding these beasts and their island. Yet you, as Max does, start to love them unconditionally.

I really enjoyed this film. I cried at the end. Twice. I think you become aware of how much a thing touches you when someone else is dissimilarly effected. For example:

Walking out of the theater a young couple with two little girls were ahead of me.

“It was really good,” the little girl said.

“It was better when it was over,” the father said. He hurried outside to make a phone call.

I didn’t think well of the man.