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Why I Will Not Be Seeing "Where The Wild Things Are"
I am the first to admit that I really haven’t grown up. Just last weekend, I begged my wonderful husband to watch Monsters Vs. Aliens instead of The Informant. I have a collection of Disney movies on VHS, DVD, and Blu-Ray. I have a Nintendo DS, and my favorite game is Yoshi’s Island. For all purposes, I’m a nine year old in a 24 year old’s body.
So, since my entertainment interests are juvenile, I should have wanted to go see Where the Wild Things Are as soon as a release date was announced. I should have been in line at my local theatre for the midnight showings, jumping for joy like I did for Harry Potter and The Dark Knight. But, I avoided it like the plague. Why, you wonderful readers may ask, why would such a connoisseur of children’s entertainment avoid one of the best children’s movies ever produced?
I can give you the sentimental answer. The book Where the Wild Things Are has a special place in my heart. My godfather would read it to me for nights on end, and each character had their own voice so unique that I still cannot reproduce them. My godfather was like my third parent, and he died three years ago at 53. I have a feeling that seeing this movie would either make me cry or be overly critical of the voice actors, for they could not live up to my godfather’s voices.
I can also provide a cultural answer. My childhood has been taken over by marketers, and “re-imaged” for the new generation of children. My toys and TV shows have been turned into big budget movies, which, frankly, have just been bad. Sometimes they are so bad, they’re good (GI Joe, I’m looking at you,) but they have all still been bad. My childhood toys have grown up from cute little kids to sexified pre-teens. Strawberry Shortcake and Rainbow Brite have gone in the way of the new Dora the Explorer, with long hair and limbs, slender bodies, and shorter skirts. Don’t even get me started on the new generation of My Little Pony. My childhood has been transformed by toy and movie companies from cute little toys into something lewd, exploding, and just cheap. I realize that reviewers have said that Spike Jonze did an amazing job with Where the Wild Things Are, but I cannot jeopardize my memory of the book for another appropriation and reinterpretation of what it was supposed to be.
To sum up, I will not see Where the Wild Things Are. I have risked my childhood too much by seeing those big budget toy movies, and I have bemoaned the transformations of my toys for the children of today. And my memories of the book are too special to me to even step foot in that theatre. So, people of my generation, please think about the next toy based movie you see, and question the reincarnation of Rainbow Brite. Remember what those toys and books meant to you as a child, and do not let Michael Bay, Spike Jonze, or any other film makers and toy manufacturers alter those memories.
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So, since my entertainment interests are juvenile, I should have wanted to go see Where the Wild Things Are as soon as a release date was announced. I should have been in line at my local theatre for the midnight showings, jumping for joy like I did for Harry Potter and The Dark Knight. But, I avoided it like the plague. Why, you wonderful readers may ask, why would such a connoisseur of children’s entertainment avoid one of the best children’s movies ever produced?
I can give you the sentimental answer. The book Where the Wild Things Are has a special place in my heart. My godfather would read it to me for nights on end, and each character had their own voice so unique that I still cannot reproduce them. My godfather was like my third parent, and he died three years ago at 53. I have a feeling that seeing this movie would either make me cry or be overly critical of the voice actors, for they could not live up to my godfather’s voices.
I can also provide a cultural answer. My childhood has been taken over by marketers, and “re-imaged” for the new generation of children. My toys and TV shows have been turned into big budget movies, which, frankly, have just been bad. Sometimes they are so bad, they’re good (GI Joe, I’m looking at you,) but they have all still been bad. My childhood toys have grown up from cute little kids to sexified pre-teens. Strawberry Shortcake and Rainbow Brite have gone in the way of the new Dora the Explorer, with long hair and limbs, slender bodies, and shorter skirts. Don’t even get me started on the new generation of My Little Pony. My childhood has been transformed by toy and movie companies from cute little toys into something lewd, exploding, and just cheap. I realize that reviewers have said that Spike Jonze did an amazing job with Where the Wild Things Are, but I cannot jeopardize my memory of the book for another appropriation and reinterpretation of what it was supposed to be.
To sum up, I will not see Where the Wild Things Are. I have risked my childhood too much by seeing those big budget toy movies, and I have bemoaned the transformations of my toys for the children of today. And my memories of the book are too special to me to even step foot in that theatre. So, people of my generation, please think about the next toy based movie you see, and question the reincarnation of Rainbow Brite. Remember what those toys and books meant to you as a child, and do not let Michael Bay, Spike Jonze, or any other film makers and toy manufacturers alter those memories.
BACK
