Well, It's Sort of Film Criticism

I put this together earlier in the week and it's been making the rounds on other film sites. I do not plan on ever paying one cent to watch this movie and, if this piece convinces others to do the same, it may have accomplished something.

Otherwise, it's good for a few cheap laughs.

World Cinema by Joel and Ethan Coen

The message of this short is obvious, but worth promoting.

More Emo Than Wild: Where the Wild Things Are

Imagine watching a YouTube video where a baby plays with his rattle and flings it right at his mother's head (because he/she doesn't know better). Then the Mom, having a rough day, stomps on the rattle in front of the baby, who we watch cry its eyes out because it's too young to understand what it did. The camera would then hold on the baby's face so we can witness every little tear making the mother cry as well. One can argue that going against expectations makes this video more artistic and truthful, while others may wonder what is so entertaining about watching a cute baby cry?

I watched "Where the Wild Things Are" over a week ago and have admittedly had trouble finding something to write about it considering all that has been written about it so far. But the main reason I'm hesitant to dive into thinking about this movie again is that it bummed me the hell out. If you knew my favorite films, you would realize there are many so-called "depressing" films I consider classics. However, those films may have depressing subject matter on the surface, but there is a level of exhilaration watching a great filmmaker telling a story that may be a complete downer.

This did not happen for me during "Wild Things", which played for me like relentless emotional posturing. What surprises me most about this is that I would never think Spike Jonze was a director who would go out of his way to take the movie in the direction of anti-entertainment. You may consider me unsophisticated to not appreciate the artistry that's on the screen, but I just could not believe the film was saying anything remotely new or insightful about childhood. It just wants you to accept its version of childhood as honest, although it is represented by a bipolar protagonist with sociopathic tendencies who conjures up playthings, who can each take up a chapter in the Freudian playbook.