Those familiar with Spike Jonze may find it interesting that the director of “Adaptation”—essentially a movie about the difficulties of adapting a work of literature into film—chose to tackle a project like Where The Wild Things Are. With only ten sentences in the whole book, it is no wonder that Maurice Sendak’s beloved children’s fable has been called “unfilmable.” Jonze, along with screenwriter Dave Eggers, makes a valiant effort though, and the result is an incredibly strange and beautiful film that succeeds in capturing the emotional turmoil of approaching adolescence.

The film tells the story of Max, a typical 9-year-old boy who feels misunderstood at home and his search for acceptance in a world he does not full grasp yet. One night, Max runs away from his life, fleeing to a mysterious island filled with even more mysterious creatures. His arrival at the island could not have been timed any better; the creatures that inhabit this strange new world are looking for someone to lead them, while Max desperately longs to feel important.

From there the film evolves into an exceedingly weird—if sometimes incoherent—retooling of The Wizard of Oz. Right about the time Max decides to stay with the Wild Things, the movie struggles with retaining a consistent narrative structure. One scene in particular stands out as being especially strange: noticing that Max is struggling with keeping all of the Wild Things happy, one monster named KW (Lauren Ambrose) takes him to see her friends who end up being two owls that can only communicate through squawking and can only be summoned by pelting them with rocks.

No matter how strange or fantastical things get, though, Jonze somehow manages to keep the film’s footing rooted in the real world, for the most part, treating Max’s inner turbulence as something more than fantasy. In fact, Jonze triumphs in making most of the elements of the film blend together to make the viewer feel as if they are experiencing the world through Max’s eyes. The often-incoherent dialogue, the beautiful and haunting cinematography, and Karen O’s (of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs) wildly simplistic soundtrack all contribute to the authenticity of the inner workings of a child’s mind.

Speaking of the kids, there has been much debate as to whether or not the movie adaptation is suitable for children. While the visuals and the relatable story may appeal to many kids’ fantastical side, it is likely that most children will leave the theater feeling confused and maybe even a bit sad. Unlike Senadak’s book, these Wild Things probably won’t make many children’s hearts sing.
In Adaptation, Brian Cox’s character, in speaking about the ending of a film, says, “The last act makes a film. Wow them in the end and you got a hit. You can have flaws, problems, but wow them in the end, and you’ve got a hit.” Perhaps ironically, the ending of Where the Wild Things Are—which is the most similar to Sendak’s original story—ends up feeling mildly forced and somewhat nonsensical. Max eventually abandons the Wild Things, leaving them in much worse shape than when he first found them, yet they deeply mourn his leaving.

When all is said and done, Jonze’s rendering of Where The Wild Things Are is a poetic, philosophical and aesthetically beautiful film that sometimes struggles with maintaining enough emotional resonance to sustain the film during the many bizarre moments. As a film that realistically depicts the heartbreak and something of being a 9-year-old kid, however, Where the Wild Things