Where The Wild Things Are

Director: Spike Jonze; Screenwriter: Michael Goldenberg, Dave Eggers; Starring: Catherine Keener, Max Records, Mark Ruffalo, Lauren Ambrose, James Gandolfini; Running time: 94 mins; Certificate: PG

Sometimes kids can be animals, but rather than slap 'em with an ASBO, director Spike Jonze takes a therapeutic approach with Where The Wild Things Are. Based on the popular American children's book by Maurice Sendak, it follows little horror Max (Max Records) as he plays King to an island of creatures that look a bit like The Flumps only much bigger, hairier and a whole lot moodier. Lessons are duly learned and having fun comes second place in what turns out to be an uncommonly sobering yet ethereal kiddie flick from the man who brought us Being John Malkovich.

Jonze delivers a shot of adrenalin to start with as Max tears onto screen, head over feet, in a wrestling match with his dog. It has the raw impact of the sort of phone video showcased on YouTube, right down to the bleached photography. And mutt-wrestling is only one of the ways in which Max exasperates his otherwise placid mother (Catherine Keener). He might be irritating to us as well except that Jonze has a Spielbergish way of conveying a child's innocence - the simple joy he gets from throwing snowballs - that means the kid is tough not to like. It also helps that Records has the face of an angel and just as much light in his eyes.

After showing up mum in front of her boyfriend (a soppy Mark Ruffalo), Max gets an earful and runs away, clad in a wolf suit. He eventually comes upon a mysterious sailboat that takes him to a craggy island populated by the fuzzy, Flump-like beasts and convinces them that he is their natural-born leader. It's just as well because they're not averse to eating little boys, especially Carol, the angriest of the bunch voiced by Tony Soprano himself (James Gandolfini). It might be that he's narked at having a girl's name, but more often than not, it's because things don't go his way. Unfortunately - though the animatronics are impressive - he's not as cute as Records when he gets upset and it requires emotional effort to invest in their friendship.

Nothing dramatic enough happens to cement the bond between Max and Carol. They build a fort and throw mud pies at each other, just for laughs, and that's fun for a while, but Carol's growing sense of dependency on Max (which later spawns resentment) is understated and will be difficult for younger children to grasp. That is the crux of the story along with Max's gradual realisation that 'with great power comes great responsibility', but Spider-Man spun this line more clearly. With this film, there is no grand mission or great sacrifice to latch onto and the few action scenes there are feel like a concession to the orangeade addicts rather than driving the story onwards. For older children and grownups, however, there are rewards.

Jonze creates a gorgeous world - an idealised vision of nature - which it's a pleasure to spend time in. The supporting beasties are each voiced with distinct personality and subtle humour (among them Chris Cooper, Forest Whitaker and Catherine O'Hara) and, visually, they're shown off in their best light against misty woodlands and sandy dunes. The contrast of the rugged real world and these mythical beasts is reminiscent of Terry Gilliam's Time Bandits and, like that film, there's a dark edge to the story that makes it all the more enticing. There is always the threat that Carol might eat Max and Jonze exploits this towards the end of the film, but it ends up being quietly poignant too. Generation X-box might find their urge to shoot at stuff is curiously quelled as long as they're willing to stretch the concentration span.


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