Why they’re all wrong about the Wild Things
Nobody I’ve met so far has been particularly positive about Where the Wild Things Are. Reading lukewarm reviews complaining it’s too hip, too unstructured, too scary/dull for kids, too sacrilegious, too tedious, too Spike, too meh, I wonder if I saw the same film at all. Here’s my colleague Donald Clark’s take on it, not exactly a glowing review. All I can say is I disagree. Well, not all I can say, clearly, as here I go: This is probably the first film I’ve seen in my adult life that brought home to me how the sensitivies and fears of my childhood were a natural part of growing up, and went hand in hand with the wild joys I remember too of being a kid. Max is utterly convincing – heartbreakingly so – as a young child struggling with demons within that become the charming, out of control and tender demons without. It’s frightening, it’s exhilarating, it’s astoundingly empathic and it’s my favourite film of this year so far. And yes, I’ve seen the White Ribbon too. Am I alone in finding something splendid there? Over to you . . .