Where The Wild Things Are

** WARNING: some spoilers.

I just watched this movie last night (opening night) and still mulling over what I saw, so forgive me if this entry goes into too many directions.

The movie is adapted from a children's book of the same name, written by Maurice Sendak. Filming first started in 2005, but creative differences caused the release of the movie to be pushed back until now. At one point, Warner Bros. Studio, which released the movie, wanted Sendak to re-film the $75 million project because it wasn't as family-friendly as they expected, so Sendak was given more time to change it to satisfy himself and Warner Bros. After I saw the movie, I had a hard time thinking what it must've been like before Sendak changed it because if I had been a kid watching this, I think I would be scared.

I can identify three main themes of Where the Wild Things Are, although this movie is so unique, I wouldn't be surprised if others find other themes to be more dominant. The three I thought of are belonging, loneliness, and self-identity. Max, the bratty protagonist, makes revelations for all three of these themes, yet the movie doesn't quite resolve his issues with them. The monsters in Max's fantasy world represent various aspects of him, overtly displayed for him to address; he acknowledges each monster, although he deals with some better than others. This child's imagination knows little boundaries, casts aside logic, and throws caution into the wind.

Slowly, I grew to love this movie, yet it wasn't what I had expected. Definitely, this movie is an English teacher's delight because it was chock full of symbolism and imagery. I love how the movie was shot, literally, from a child's point of view. I worried that my husband would get motion-sickness because the camera moved with you as you jumped, ran, dodged, and slid. Most of the scenes were filmed as if you were the child and everything else was so much bigger than you. The movie had humour and satisfyingly brought a child's imagination to epic proportions. My favourite parts included Max and Carol howling together, which occurred twice in the movie and with different purposes each time.

What I did not expect, and can't figure out even at this point whether I'm ok with it or not, is the fact that the monsters are portrayed as depressed, self-pitying, angry, spiteful, and lonely. This is what holds me back from embracing this movie fully. I was interested in seeing how a plot could be formed from a picture book, but I was blind-sided by how each character was saturated with just one emotion and never quite developed out of it. I expected Max or Carol or KW to be changed by conflict, but they stayed as static as the other characters who had more minor roles, and to this end, I am a bit disappointed.

Overall, I am satisfied with this movie. Growing up for almost six years without a proper companion, three of those years hidden in an apartment because the superintendent didn't allow children to live in his building, I had to rely on my imagination to stay entertained. My parents worked as custodians who worked the graveyard shift in various buildings in downtown Vancouver and strip malls in Richmond and I had to tag along. Some nights, I pretended to be in jail, hiding among boxes of supplies, and plotting my escape plan. Other nights, I was a movie star, a rock star, an astronaut, a spy dog, or a beauty pageant queen. While other children fell asleep to the voices of their parents reading a bedtime story, I fell asleep on waiting room couches to the sound of the industrial vacuum cleaner. I'm not sure how and when Where the Wild Things Are landed in my lap, but I couldn't put the book down and I memorized each picture; I created tableaux of the pictures with my dolls and I, of course, was Max, except instead of a cat costume, I had my hooded blanket that I used to get married in. This movie awakened in me the lonely, yet highly imaginative, child within -- I bet I was the only person crying in the theatre that night.

Grave of the Fireflies (Hotaru no haka)

I first learned about this movie while surfing a car enthusiast site a couple of years ago. In the Lounge forum, where members could talk about other things besides cars, one person asked what the saddest movie others have watched are. When Grave of the Fireflies was first mentioned, scores of other "burly" and "macho" guys wrote in to the thread to say how they all bawled their eyes out at the movie. So many people thought the movie was the saddest movie ever made.

Recently, my sister's boyfriend also attested to how he thought Grave of the Fireflies was the saddest movie ever. His testimony piqued my interest further, so the next night, my husband and I sat in front of the computer and watched this 89-minute movie.

Now, I'm not saying that this movie isn't tragic. Indeed, it was sad, especially since it involved the story of two young children, a brother and sister, in wartime Japan. Being a teacher and a person who absolutely adores children, as well as being someone who takes many things to heart, I was very surprised that I didn't cry at this movie. I think maybe it's because I already knew the story (I was afraid that the movie was going to be so depressing, I read a synopsis first to prepare myself) and my expectation for it to be sad was so high, that I ended up not feeling as sad as I thought I could be. I almost didn't cry, except my husband said out loud at one part, "I bet this is when everyone in the audience cries" and then it hit me that this was a very tragic story.

What makes this story ultimately tragic for me was the fact that it was based on a true story. Akiyuki Nosaka wrote Grave of the Fireflies in 1967 to come to terms with what he faced during WWII.

Don't take my word on this. You should see it for yourself and then let me know if my heart is made of stone.

Kabluey

Kabluey is a movie about a man who goes to help his sister-in-law take care of her two sons and in the meantime gets a job as a corporate mascot. Doesn't sound like much, but the movie's offbeat humour (think Lars and the Real Girl or Run, Fatboy, Run) is derived from the characters' extreme personalities.

Salman, played by Scott Prendergast who is also the director of this film, is the brother-in-law who was enlisted only as a desperate last measure to babysit two homicidal nephews. When he takes on the job as a mascot for a failing dot-com company, Salman slowly discovers that he can be a hero, albeit in a blue costume.

Actresses Lisa Kudrow and Conchata Ferrell play their respective roles fantastically. Kudrow portrays a despondent woman, a far cry from her Phoebe days, while Ferrell throws out curses and anger like nobody's business in a bizarre, but often funny, way.

I love how Kabluey shows the sad reality of the hero's life, but without the melodrama. At only 68 minutes long, the film is able to capture the quirky ways people relate to one another, as well as how they deal with their present situation with what resources they have. Although there is no overt political agenda to this film, it does put a spin on economic tension, which underlies some of the characters' motives. My favourite movies are usually ones that are character-driven, have plot lines that don't require a lot of fanfare and explosions, and contain witty dialogue that only English teachers and the linguistically-inclined can appreciate with a hearty laugh. Kabluey did not disappoint.

Not Unlike Calvin & Hobbes

"We are here to celebrate Bianca's extraordinary life. From her wheelchair, Bianca reached out and touched us all, in ways we could never have imagined. She was a teacher. She was a lesson in courage. And Bianca loved us all. Especially Lars. Especially him." ~~ Reverend Bock

What a wonderful woman Bianca is. Too bad she's not real.

D rented a movie that I requested because I've heard good reviews about it, but saw little recognition for it in the media. When D asked the lady at the video store if she's seen it, she said that she was turned off by the premise of the movie. She's not interested in "a guy who talks to a blow-up doll."

In Lars and the Real Girl, director Craig Gillespie and writer Nancy Oliver mirror the connections made and lost in our often comical and sometimes absurdly serious real world. Lars, a sad introvert, becomes friends (not "friendly") with a doll he ordered online. The people in his town cautiously play along and I get a glimpse of what our real world would look like if we could come together truly as a community to accept one another and the baggage that often comes with a person -- not to mock something or someone different because of our own discomfort and lack of empathy. I have to admit, that this movie is borderline psychotic -- sorry, I should say quasi-delusional. But, perhaps, in the real world, we all have to be somewhat off-key in order to keep our sanities in check. How ironic.

Through the extraordinary encounters and activities that Bianca is involved in, Lars transcends his loneliness and develops connections with a community he didn't realize existed for him. I hope that not all of us require the help of a blow-up doll to discover how important having a real relationship with people is.

I give this movie two thumbs-up! Heart-warming like Full House, but without the sappiness.