Let’s move forward now to Grizzly Bear’s song Ready, Able, and Allison Schulnik’s odd and incredible film set to music, formally called a music video. 

The video opens with what looks like a kneecap’s perspective of walking through a field and into a clearing.  There and then we see two multi-colored yeti-like creatures eyeing each other from across a river.  Engaged in what might be a staring contest, but probably something much more significant, one of the creatures deflates and melts into the river.  His colors begin to blend, but not in the way watercolors blend into a brown.  The colors retain their integrity for the most part as they become a part of the water. 

Did I mention that this is claymation, or some similar medium?  Did I mention that the remaining creature has three little creatures that he feeds to a fourth, iguana-like creature that then turns into something resembling a frilled lizard, or Dilophosaurus (if you prefer creatures from the Jurassic period)? 

The remaining yeti-like creature then appears to get abducted or dematerialized by an alien craft.  Similar then to what always happens following dematerialization by aliens, everything goes Technicolor.

I’m not sure what happens now, or in the two minutes that led up to now, but little heads of creatures (possibly the botched rematerialization of the larger creature) are shown on museum pedestals transforming their shapes and expressions.  These shots are mixed with clips of the same creature (maybe), (pre-abduction) and another, less yeti-like, more a sumo wrestler-like creature composed of the same genetic building blocks.

I don’t know what the video “means”.  I don’t know what the song is about, but the combination of the two elicits an emotion that feels like sadness but manifests as confusion.  This video and song stay with you.  What it is and what it means isn’t as important as what it feels like. 

It’s unfortunate that we experience things like this for the first time only the first time.  It’s difficult to process anything during the premiere.  The second time is corrupted by the experience of the first, like in Tom McCarthy’s novel, Remainder.  Reproducing something degrades it.  It never feels like it did the first time, and no amount of money or effort can change that.  A first kiss can keep you up all night contemplating levitation and other wonderfully unrealistic things.  The kiss you get at the end of the day fifteen years later is nice, but it isn’t filled with the wonder of what could be, or what could float.  Maybe it is, I don’t know.

Below is a link to the video on YouTube

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Puph1hejMQE

Below again is a link to an interview/performance from Grizzly Bear on NPR’s Sound Opinions

http://www.npr.org/rss/podcast/podcast_detail.php?siteId=6349255

Grizzly Bear website: http://grizzly-bear.net/

Allison Schulnik’s website: http://www.allisonschulnik.com/

Max, king of the Wild Things, was crowned for good reason.  He is wild, destructive and violent.  Director Spike Jones does paint a relatively clear picture of the causes of this.  Max is the modern child, I suppose.  He is isolated.  His parents have separated, apparently.  His mother has a demanding job, or perhaps a job she isn’t very good at. She has a love interest. This love interest doesn’t come off as being overjoyed at Max’s existence, let alone his presence in the house when he comes by for a quiet night with his mom.  Max’s sister (yes, in the film Max has a sister) is also the archetypal modern girl, a la Claire Danes circa My So Called Life.  Max struggles for her attention, but she, like he, has her own way of dealing with the situation.  She seems to care for Max, but again, she has her own issues she’s sorting out, possibly on the screen in some parallel universe where she meets some other wild things.

This is the setting that opens the film.  It was, to be honest, quite grueling.  It was like listening to The John Tesh Radio Show. Nothing against John Tesh, I just detest his awful show.  Here’s possibly why; I was forced for a year and some change to listen to it in a restricted, high stress environment.  I was not in prison. They don’t play The John Tesh Radio Show in prison.  If they did, and this is just my theory, the recidivism rate in this country would fall through the floor…scared straight, indeed.  My reaction to his show is probably natural.  I probably would have grown to loathe just about anything under those conditions, it just happened to be The John Tesh Radio Show.  

I am not a purest when it comes to film adaptations of books.  I won’t go on about where and how violently the film broke the books spine, so to speak. 

The film does succeed in being visually enthralling.  The sets are intricate. The “Wild Things” are flawless.  The film should receive a torrent of awards for this, but this is the only praise I can muster for it.

If anything, the film adaptation of Maurice Sendak’s story brought to my attention how troubled of a child the king of the wild things possibly is.  I wonder how much of this, if any, Sendak intended.  The book came out in 1963, decades before the diagnoses of Attention Deficit, Hyperactivity and Oppositional Defiance Disorders became as ubiquitous as Kleenex.  In the film, the Wild Things come off as manifestations of Max’s chemical, emotional or social imbalances, whatever the case may be.  Perhaps this was already apparent to everyone else, but it was an epiphany for me.  Having read the book to a sleepy child countless times, it never dawned on me. 

In my mind, the film and the book are completely separate, and they have to be. The boy in the story that I read to my son isn’t wild, destructive or violent.  He’s just a little boy that wanted to be where someone loves him best of all.

Below is a link to an interview with Maurice Sendak from NPR’s Fresh Air

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=114044628

As someone with Aspergers, Adam has a difficult time with social interactions, suffers from anxiety, and is a bit possessed with certain areas of study, astronomy in particular.  Adam works as an electrical engineer developing electronic components for toys.  His off work hours are devoted to astronomy and ‘people watching’.

Following the death of his father, Adam attaches himself to Beth, a school teacher and children’s writer.  Beth is sensitive, kind and patient.  She listens as Adam engages in his one-way conversations that broadcast his idiosyncrasies.  Soon Beth begins to discover the wonder of Adam, and develops feelings for him.  The two then begin a rather awkward but tender relationship.

The movie delves a bit into some drama involving the court trial of Beth’s father, a relatively smarmy accountant.  Some have viewed this story line as a flaw, as it takes the attention/screen time away from Adam.  What this story line does do is highlight the most isolating characteristic of those on the Autism spectrum, the difficulty of empathizing with others.  Beth’s world is rattled by her father’s fall, but all Adam can do is focus on the moving pieces of his own life.  This reality is what does the romantic side of the relationship in.

Beth’s role in Adam’s life, tragically and realistically, is one of caring social worker or therapist.  She is instrumental in helping Adam develop some desperately needed life and people skills.  She loved Adam certainly, but in the end it was what she taught him, and not Beth herself, that made the difference in Adam’s life.

Writer/director Max Mayer’s attention in the film to Adam’s passion for astronomy does a terrific job of sending the message that while truly deep relationships might be difficult for people on the Autism spectrum, developing and fostering healthy passions (unhealthy being obsessions) is certainly attainable.

As the father of a child with Autism, I hope my son can live a life that interests him; one where he can contribute some of his talents to society, and be around people that love and appreciate him.  This is the sentiment of any parent really, whether their children, to quote Adam, are NT’s (neuro-typical) or not.

A very powerful performance by Hugh Dancy, and a memorable effort from Frankie Fasion as Harlan, a mentor/guardian/friend to Adam, gives this film some weight that will hopefully be felt by a larger audience outside of those of us already touched by Autism and Aspergers.

Below is an interview with Writer/Director Max Mayer from NPR’s Fresh Air

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=111732938