In a house of wild things…

Somewhere between Christmas, my MIL’s 70th, Oscar’s hospital stay, New Years, my back breakage and being BACK at hospital with Oscar and huge weeping blisters on his legs (sorry, had I mentioned that?) but before yesterday, we watched Where the Wild Things Are and well, quite frankly, it seems to have done something to my brain.

It is a book I, when I remember to can be bothered to  read to the boys before they go to bed, return to time and time again. It got shelved for a while because it freaked the hell out of Grover, a situation I found deeply ironic for the kid who calls everyone IDIOT! or poobumheadidiotbaby and will quite happily give a stranger smiling at him the dirtiest stink-eye while raising fists at anyone who so much as mutters ‘no’ in his general vicinity and WOE BETIDE if you threaten to remove the mouse from the computer.

Still we return to it.

And then there is the movie. I’m tempted to call it a masterpiece, for how it encapsulates so purely the extreme black and white confusion of childhood emotion. Of how complicated and endearing and flawed every single one of the characters is. Of their purity in what they represent. And of this boy, this boy trying to find his way and his place in the world.

It is innocent, funny, bone-crushingly sad, dangerous, foreboding, joyous and full of life.

It has left me with something, an ache is what it is. And that, to me, is how this movie feels, it feels like it’s aching.

Douglas: Will you keep out all the sadness?
Max: I have a sadness shield that keeps out all the sadness, and it’s big enough for all of us.

Being a person is so complicated.

Onward.

 

Have you seen it? What did you think of it? Is there a movie that has stuck with you as this one has me?

 

 

 

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