Why the long face, dude?

Why the long face, dude?

At a reported cost of $80 million dollars for its 101 minutes of screen time, Where The Wild Things Are might just be the most expensive therapy session in history. Luckily, we were there to eavesdrop.

‘‘Come in, come in. How are you today?’’

‘‘Good.’’

‘‘Really?"

"No. I wouldn't be here if I was really good, would I?"

"I suppose not. Why don’t you lie down on the couch and we’ll get started.’’

‘‘Sure.’’

‘‘So, what’s been going on since we last met?’’

‘‘Nothing much.’’

A Pinteresque pause.

‘‘I mean, just the usual stuff.’’

Another pause. The gentle tick-tock of a grandfather clock can be heard.

‘‘My sister won’t play with me and my Mom is too busy and she’s got this new ‘friend’, and I don’t like him ’cos he’s all hairy and he smells of wine and when he visits I have to stay in my room, I can’t sleep in the big bed with Mom, and sometimes I really need to.’’

Yet another pause. This time it's possible to detect a faint background noise, a low buzzing sound.

‘‘So I play with my friends. We make forts and we have pretend fights and we make a rumpus and it’s great. I’m their king.’’

The noise is louder now. It's snoring.

‘‘Doc? Hey, doc? Are you listening?’’

‘‘Wha’? Oh, yes, of course. Yes, yes. Please go on.’’

Surly now. ‘‘They listen to me. They play with me. We fight and we run and jump and tumble. And at night we all sleep in a pile together, a big furry mound, and I feel safe.’’

‘‘And loved?’’

‘‘Huh?’’

‘‘You feel loved.’’

‘‘Yeah, I guess.’’

 ‘‘These . . . friends. What do they look like?’’

‘‘They’re big and hairy. Bigger than my Mom’s friend. Bigger than you. Much bigger than you."

"I see. And what do they do?"

"They show their terrible claws and they roll their terrible eyes and they gnash their terrible teeth.’’

‘‘Does that scare you?’’

‘‘No. I tame them all by this magic trick I’ve got.’’

‘‘Really? What is this trick?’’

‘‘I stare into their yellow eyes and say, ‘Be still’.’’

‘‘Sounds like they have hepatitis. No matter. Do these friends have names?’’

‘‘Depends. In the movie yes, in the book no.’’

‘‘Sorry?’’

‘‘Never mind.’’

‘‘And what are these friends like?’’

‘‘Funny. But sometimes they get angry. Real angry.’’

‘‘How does that make you feel?’’

‘‘A little scared, I guess. But I know how they feel.’’

"Because that's how you feel sometimes?"

"I guess."

‘‘I have a theory. Would you care to hear it?’’

‘‘I dunno. Yeah, I guess.’’

‘‘I think these friends are your emotions.’’

Angrily: ‘‘They’re not my emotions, they’re my friends.’’

‘‘Of course they are.’’

Pause. ‘‘But I suppose they do look a bit like the stuffed toys in my room, only bigger.’’

‘‘That’s interesting.’’

‘‘And the fort we play in — there’s a fort in my room, too. Except in my room it’s just pretend, made of blankets and pillows and things, but where the wild things are — that’s what I call them, the wild things — it’s real, made of sticks and rocks and dirt.’’

‘‘Go on.’’

‘‘And when the wild things get angry, I guess they’re a bit like me when I get angry. Except much scarier.’’

‘‘How scary?’’

‘‘Really scary. Like I sometimes think they might really hurt me.’’

‘‘And how does that make you feel?’’

‘‘How the f--- do you think it makes me feel?"

Embarrassed silence. "I'm sorry.’’

‘‘It’s OK. This is a safe place. The wild things are welcome here.’’

‘‘Really?’’

‘‘Yes. Of course. Perhaps we could make a new home for them. Here. Or in a movie, perhaps. You mentioned a movie earlier.’’

‘‘Yeah. That would be great. We could make a movie about all the anger I feel and the sense of abandonment and resentment at my mother for not being around, and we could create all these great furry toys — like little versions of the wild things, so the whole thing comes full circle — and sell a truckload to little kiddies, and they could come to the movie and be utterly freaked out by it and need therapy to recover.’’

‘‘I like the sound of that.’’

‘‘Oh, Doc. This is great. I feel so much better.’’

‘‘I’m so happy for you.’’

Pause.

‘‘Well, I'm afraid that’s all we have time for today.’’

‘‘Same as usual? $80 million?’’

‘‘Give or take. Just pay Janice on the way out. Credit card is fine.’’

‘‘Same time next week?’’

‘‘Same time next week.’’