Sunday, November 08, 2009

Where the Wild Things Are, sons and mother love

As I enter the tunnel (as Sundance's John Cooper and Trevor Groth so aptly put it), I took off a few hours to catch WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE before it slipped out of town. I'd wanted to go opening night and couldn't. The next day, on my way to meetings in NYC, I detoured to pay a visit to my 19-year-old son, now in his second year of college. Not a big movie fan (Transformers is his fav!), he'd gone to Where the Wild Things Are the night before.

"I loved Where The Wild Things Are. But it was so sad!! It's a film for sons and mothers. You know, as boys, we get really frustrated and we break things. But what's really sad, is that we break our own things!

Remember when I got the $5 bill and ripped it into a hundred pieces?"

In that second, I did...
"Yes I do. I'm sorry I wasn't a better mother. I know you were frustrated a lot."

"No, it's ok mom. When I think of you, I think of you always trying to help me. Like you helped me tape it all back together."

Ah my son. And ahhh this film - which had me smiling and sobbing within minutes. Really a modern masterpiece, carving so close to the heart of something so delicate and primal. A real rarity in this day and age. I'm very grateful.

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