Where the Wild Things Are

Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince!

If you haven't seen it, please do. It lives up to the hype and comfortably nestles itself into the exceptional series.

However, that's not really what I am here to write about. It did happen when I saw Harry Potter though. When I was a boy, my favorite book in the world was Where the Wild Things Are. I remember reading it endlessly, each time being disappointed that it always did, in fact, end.

The illustrious world created by Maurice Sendak both fascinated and scared me. The exotic island that nurtured the Wild Things versus the familiar domestic setting from which Max dervies; the initial brutality of the beasts contrasted with their surprisingly friendly attitudes; the hypnotizing illustrations that worked despite an unusual lack of color and sharpness often found in children's literature.

Sitting in my horrifically uncomfortable movie theater chair (is this what we get for $10 now?), I somehow survived previews for G.I. Joe (shame on you, movie moguls, for greenlighting this material-driven monstrosity) and Holmes (somehow, I don't remember Sherlock Holmes being so adventurous and "stunt-y" when I read about him in school). But all was redeemed the moment I recognized Max's white beast outfit. I have to admit, I was a little skeptical about how they could possibly turn this book into a movie, but this movie trailer has sold me. Combined with the knowledge that this was a Spike Jonze project as well as the beautiful and totally appropriate music blaring in the background by one of my favorite bands, Arcade Fire, I got a little teary eyed at the end of the preview and for a moment forgot that I was actually there to see Harry Potter. It all just...resonated.