photos courtesy of Warner Brothers FilmsI've been a little (very) sensitive this week. It's easy for me to get weepy. Like when I read this review by A.O. in the NY Times. I haven't seen Where the Wild Things Are yet. I've been saving myself for it. I do that when I order uni in a sushi restaurant too, although maybe that's not the same. It's not about saving the best for last but more that My first glimpse of this film will be a moment so much larger than me. It's personal un-discovery is to be savored for a day when I am prepared to be blown away and to have put it all behind me all at once. Once known, the experience of it will morph into a different thing--sort of like the loss of innocence or something.
The review is about taking children to see films which convey difficult and lifey subjects. Here are some excerpts*:
" No place is free of conflict and bad feeling, and no person has the power to make problems disappear. Where there is happiness — friendship, adventure, affection, security — there is also, inevitably, disappointment. That’s life."
"The impulse to protect children from these kinds of stories is understandable. Like adults, they experience plenty of hard feelings in their daily lives — at home, on the playground, in the classroom, in their dreams — and they may want, as we do, to use movies and books as a form of escape. Bright colors, easy lessons and thrilling rides that end safely and predictably on terra firma have their place. But so, surely, do representations of the grimmer, thornier thickets of experience. That’s what art is, and surely our children deserve some of that too..."
I am in some thorny thickets at the moment, trying to feel my way through as an adult, maybe.
* written by A.O. Scott for the New York Times