Where the Wild Things Are Reminding You to Call Mom

But back to the criticisms cited earlier. Audience members who walk into the movie unaware of the book's skimpy narrative are excused for feeling a little let down. But is there anyone who didn't fall for Where the Wild Things Are as a child? The book casts a hell of a spell, and Jonze and Eggers miraculously succeed in recreating its elusive essence. Let's put it this way: This is a movie that makes you want to call your mother, and that's not something you can say about most studio pictures. Not even Dr. Dolittle 2.

Ultimately, Where the Wild Things Are stays interesting, despite its subdued narrative arc, because it's an unabashedly heartfelt meditation on the primal emotions that overwhelm us in childhood. It floats along on the strength of its raw sincerity and sharp wits, and if at times it verges on sentimentality, the sentiment is not unearned. It's rare for a big-budget movie to dare to be this melancholy without any bullshit, cloying contrivances.

Because of Eggers's involvement, and because the trailer featured a boy and furry animals running around to the strains of Arcade Fire (a song that, oddly, is not in the film) some, ourselves included, expected this to be a little too twee-rrific. You can expect that word to pop up again in reviews when the movie's released on October 16th. But, defying expectations, it's not affectedly precious—it's an exuberant, proudly earnest, and sweet but not saccharine tribute to the feral forces inside people. But don't take our word for it; Chicagoist loved it too, and their post-screening Q&A with Jonze is good for a chuckle.

(For more, Vice asked 24 of artists to tap into their earliest memories of how Maurice Sendak's book affected their youth and interpret these recollections via pen, pencil, and brush; check out the work here. And Jonze's production designer K.K. Barrett talks about the film in this video.)