Contributed By Guest Blogger BRIAN BURKE
It’s not often I’m compelled to put fingertip to keyboard in effort to make a point about a movie I’ve recently seen, but Where the Wild Things Are had me reaching for a nice tall glass of single malt lithium. Why? Because the movie’s drama comes from a place that is too real, too comprehensible, too common and most unfortunately – just the type of thing you go to the movies to escape.
From it’s trailer we’re led to believe that fuzzy monsters with CG lips and the warm nasal breathings of a Soprano’s lead will satisfy something deep and powerful within us; the hopeful sound bites, “I didn’t want to wake you up, but I really want to show you something,” the transcendent Arcade Fire track rising, crescendoing, promising of secrets revealed, hope rediscovered, problems solved, the washed out cinematography, the power of imagination. It’s a dreamland we’re going to. The kind of dreamland where everything is ok.
And then we’re given the island of Eeyore.
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Latest Comment: I can see Brian's point, and sometimes I just want escapism too. But here's the thing, sometimes I don't, or at ... from Ryan















