Into the Wild

Spike Jonze is one of those filmmakers who reminds us why movies are such a wonderfully effective diversion. His first two feature-length efforts, Being John Malkovich and Adaptation, simultaneously challenge, bewilder and enthrall on the sheer strength of unhinged imagination. And if you buy into the outlandish premises he presents, he'll also wrench your gut with emotion.

Jonze's take on Maurice Sendak's classic children's book Where the Wild Things Are is neither the 39-year-old's finest achievement nor one of the year's elite films. Since Jonze made his admirers wait almost seven years for his latest full-length project, and the movie was hyped by one of the best trailers ever put together, this may be seen as a disappointment to some.

If audiences tame their high expectations for Where the Wild Things Are, however, they will find Jonze is still one of the most innovative minds Hollywood has to offer. Despite its flaws, Where the Wild Things Are is, amid the striking visual prowess and ambitious scope, a remarkably honest glance into the pre-teenage psyche.

Our protagonist, Max (Max Records, The Brothers Bloom), is a restless elementary school student who has more thoughts running around in his head than he knows what to do with. With divorced parents and an older sister who has outgrown her silly little brother, Max often finds himself lonely, frustrated and confused.

When Max's mother (Catherine Keener, The Soloist) has her boyfriend (Mark Ruffalo, Blindness) over for dinner, the mischievous youngster's pain is all too evident as he peers at the man auditioning to take his father's place. Clad in the character's iconic wolf costume, Max throws a fit before storming out through the front door and running away from home.

Jonze paints the portrait of the misunderstood child perfectly, and Records has you sold on his performance from the get-go. For Jonze and co-writer Dave Eggers (Away We Go), turning the temper tantrum that sets everything in motion into a tragic commentary on divorce is a stroke of genius.

We all know the next part of the story. Distressed and wanting to venture far from home, Max lets his vivid imagination run wild, traveling until he stumbles upon a mysterious island.

There, of course, he comes across the Wild Things. Tall, dangerous, but ultimately amicable, these furry beasts first contemplate eating the diminutive adventurer before deciding he has come to rule as king of their vast wilderness.

Creations of Max's turbulent mind, each of these creatures cleverly reflects a certain element of his personality. The moody Carol (voiced by James Gandolfini, The Taking of Pelham 1 2 3), for one, shares Max's insecurities about having a broken family. Alexander (Paul Dano, Taking Woodstock), meanwhile, represents his concern about not having his voice heard.

And the monsters — the rest of which are voiced by Lauren Ambrose (A Dog Year), Forest Whitaker (Fragments), Catherine O'Hara (Away We Go) and Chris Cooper (New York, I Love You) — constantly argue, sulk and grow frustrated when things don't go their way. Simply put, they embody all that is difficult about being a kid.

Visually speaking, the brilliantly envisioned Wild Things are yet another stunning display of what modern technology can do when spliced with fine storytelling. Even after spending more than an hour with them, you can't help but be amazed by the detailed animation. With nearly $100 million at his disposal, Jonze uses the epic scale well, playing his characters against a slew of unforgettable images.

The music — featuring songs by Karen O of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and a score by the superb Carter Burwell (A Serious Man) — could not fit in any better, which hardly comes as a surprise considering Jonze's long history directing music videos.

What does keep Where the Wild Things Are from being the masterpiece we hoped for is a lack of momentum carrying the plot forward. As a movie adapted from a nine-sentence children's book, this problem hardly comes as a surprise. Although Jonze and Eggers have tremendous success at stretching the film's opening scenes into compelling drama, they don't have quite as much luck creating consistently engaging conflict among the Wild Things themselves.

But only someone as inventive as Jonze could even begin to capture the darker nuances of childhood through such a fantastical prism. Early in the film, we see a globe in Max's room engraved with a note from his  father reading, "You're the owner of this world." Soon after taking over as king of the wild things, Carol repeats this phrase to Max, giving the audience a subtle clue as to where the boy's troubles are rooted. Even as Max is deeply engulfed in his own imagination, his absentee dad is still in his thoughts.

It's a quick line that will probably go over the heads of most viewers. But it's a moment that creates an appreciation for the work of art Jonze has created that, all things considered, is one rather tremendous accomplishment.

tfloyd1@umdbk.com

RATING: 4 stars out of 5