unleashing my inner max

Following up on a post that just so happened to be about insecurities that followed me from childhood, I just returned from taking Almost 9 Year-Old (yes, the countdown has begun) to see "Where the Wild Things Are".

(Small confession: Of course, I know of the book, but never read it. Though I have read "In the Night Kitchen".)

I still wanted to see it.

Had no idea what I was in for.

Blame it on overly sensitive-ness. Or the genius of Spike Jonz. But it got me. Thankfully there were only two other people in the theater. Way behind me. And A-9-Y-O didn't notice me drying my eyes with my sweater sleeve.

Anytime I am privy to the secret emotional life of boys, I am touched. I have four, after all. And while they put on brave faces, and even when they don't, it's never easy for a parent to know that there is pain there that we can't fix.  Or that we may be the cause of. And things we can never protect them from. To see it portrayed ... to see what a young boy does to deal with the heaviness of life in his secretest of hiding places when no one else will pay attention, it tears open my heart.

But it went further than that. Back to my own unresolved stuff. Sadness, loneliness, insecurity, unfair treatment, misunderstanding, fear. So much fear. No one getting me. The irresistible urge to scream and destroy and howl at the moon in rage and joy and wild kid abandon. And being shushed because I'm acting inappropriate and out of control.

This movie hit on all of it.

There was I was, happily munching on my smuggled-in popcorn, when suddenly and unexpectedly laid bare and raw as I relived those emotions ... the tightness in my chest, the tears smearing my mascara, as Max sailed away to the island of the Wild Things, to proclaim himself king and promise to make everything in the world all better where only the things you want to happen will happen.

I won't go further and spoil it for you if you haven't seen it. I will only echo the reviews the I've read about how Spike Jonz did not shy away from the raw, conflicted emotions of childhood. And good for him. Too many kids movies are dumb, loud, condescending and safe. And full of potty humor. Not that I have anything against that, but what a refreshing, though emotionally exhausting, alternative.

Maybe you won't find it as heavy and self-reflective as I did. If not, you can still enjoy the simple beauty and wit of the screenplay.

As for me, I think I need to go build a blanket fort and lay low with some imaginary friends for a few days. And then howl a little. I am looong overdue.