Wack The Wild Things

Since my son was born in September, the wife and I have had few opportunities to go to the movies. And by few I mean zero. With all the holiday blockbusters we could no longer wait to run out and see something that's supposed to be great. Baby sitter secured, we went to the local mega-plex and set our sights on Avatar. All five theaters it was playing in for the next three hours were sold out. Oh well. Up In The Air would be a not too shabby runner-up choice. Also sold out for the next three hours. Along with The Fantastic Mr. Fox and every other flick at the theater. So, we gave up on movies and went out to find a great restaurant. On our stroll we came across a small, art house theater. They were showing Where The Wild Things Are! How could I pass this up? Aside from nostalgia factor, has Spike Jonez ever made a bad movie? In we went.
Brilliant! I don't like spoilers, so I'd read almost nothing about it and was surprised by the darkness, the angst and anger the film contains. The one thing that stuck out like a sore paw was James Gandolfini. He was great. His voice fit the character to a tee. The problem is he was playing Tony Soprano. The exact same sociopathic personality in furry, Wild Thing form. Rather than losing myself in that incredibly created fantasy world, it's the one thing that brought me out of the film. It knocked down the fourth wall as I waited for Tony to have Max wacked. I hope it's not a spoiler to tell you that that didn't happen.