We were pretty blown away seeing Where the Wild Things Are the other night -- not only by the beautiful visual pallette and dynamic camera work by director Spike Jonze and cinematographer Lance Acord, but by the decidedly adult screenplay by Jonze and Dave Eggers. Apart from the fantasy of a nine-year-old boy hopping in a small sailboat to go party with some large, fuzzy creatures who are as scary as they are cute, this isn't really a kids' movie in our eyes. There may be one or two simple lessons to glean from it about social interactions -- namely about favoritism, loyalty, and letting new people in -- but it really felt like Eggers and Jonze wanted to use Maurice Sendak's beloved story as a canvas upon which to paint their own melancholy picture about the loss of innocence, the frailty of happiness, the fickleness of love, and the overall melancholy and loneliness that accompanies being a creature on one's own in the world. It's heavy stuff, and the 'wild rumpus' only lasts about five minutes before we're thrust into this darker, more difficult mood.

That's not to say the movie's depressing -- it isn't.  We'll dare say that this is a kids' allegory told through a Gen X lens -- it bears all the hallmarks of Gen X cinema, all the dissafection and shrugging surrender, as well as tinges of indie realism and Eggers-brand wonder and optimism. If nothing else it's a testament to the power of creativity, art, and imagination to save anyone from despair.  There is something in the interaction of Carol and KW (the monsters voiced by James Gandolfini and Lauren Ambrose, respectively) that speaks to the endurance of love despite momentary moods and temporary breakups.

Adults, particularly those in their twenties and thirties who grew up with this book, will likely get more out of the movie than kids will, because its messages are subtle and implicit. We shouldn't expect things always to be the same, or to pin our hopes on the promises of false leaders. We should embrace love and inspiration when it comes, but not discredit it when it slips away. And we should appreciate each others' warmth as much as each others' quirks and weaknesses. We are, after all, wildly imperfect creatures.