We went to see Where the Wild Things Are today. Great show, really well done, and totally not okay for the kids. Here is why living not watching television sometimes bites us in the butt. We get most of our new movie informaton from print sources, which doesn't give you much of an idea about shows, considering that they considered periphery supports to video promotions. Okay, yes, we could of watched the trailer online, but we thought it was a bit of a no-brainer. Great children's book film adaptation = take children.
No, don't take children. Or, don't take my children. Birdie Boy slept through most of it, which is the way I like to watch shows with him anyway. He's much less distracting when he's unconscious. On the other hand, Smootch is great to watch movies with - if they are animated. She does not like live action. She'll say, "I don't like live action." And that's it. So, don't show her a live action if you want her to sit through a whole movie. We really thought Where the Wild Things was animated. Not so, as we were to learn.
But, there we were, in the theatre, with suddenly with a live action film on our hands, which was shaping up to be a thoughful, psychological journey into the mind of a lonely and emotionally distrubed boy, accompanied with a non-character singing/dancing soundtrack. Neat. For me. Because Smootch's response was, "When's the cartoon going to begin?"
She watched though. Quietly. Hmmmm. New problem: child is not bored with movie about lonely and distrubed boy because she's identifying.
One of the reasons why Sendak's book is considered a classic is because children (and parents) relate to it. It speaks to what is felt but difficult to articulate. Combine this with this particularly gripping movie adaptation, add in dramatic visuals, kickin' music, and lots of emotive facial expressions and you've got a little girl who got lost in the pervasive sadness and feelings of inadequacy.
Heart wrenching tears and clinging.
We were really not prepared for this.
Still, great film. I was pleased to not have to sit through another Cloudy with a chance of Meatballs, which was funny, true, but fart jokes rarely move me. Okay, I was crying when I left that movie too, I am Smootch's mother after all, but I'm sure I will be thinking about Wild Things for awhile. As will Smootch.
From now on, we watch Scooby Doo on rainy afternoons.