and dissecting every element, and I was all set to do that with this movie. In fact, once it became clear that the monsters were likely representations of the Max's real family, I found myself looking at each one as Max (Carol), his sister (the one with the owl friends), his mom and his unseen dad and all that. But the longer the movie went on, the less clear the designations became. Part of this is the fact that, since so little of Max's family life is portrayed, the monsters become more fully developed than the "real" characters and began to eclipse them. Because of this I worry that repeat viewings may only highlight this unevenness rather than clarify the filmmaker's vision, and it would be a shame if some faulty structural elements ruined the experience of this movie, since it really delivers the emotional goods. I doubt there's been an American kid's film this melancholy since the Neverending Story.
I think what really sold me on the movie was the science teacher's almost giddy depiction of the end of the solar system upon the death of the sun while the children listened on in silent horror, a fear that leaks into Max's monster fantasy. As a long time Woody Allen fan it reminded me of young Alvy Singer's dilemma in Annie Hall (he doesn't want to do his homework because he learned the universe is expanding and will someday break apart), although I'm not so certain that Max truly fears the end of the universe as much as the end of his family, which to a kid would seem like the same thing.
Another interesting thing is the fallibility of the monsters Max has imagined. To allude to Woody Allen again, in Crimes and Misdemeanors, there is a (suicidal) philosopher who posits that no religion has ever created a completely benevolent image of god(s). If we create our gods--be they Zeus, Superman, or Carol--with our imagination, then what does it say about us that human folly so often is included in our myths about them? Perhaps, as the movie seems to point out, loving each other isn't always easy, but we do it anyway. And maybe that's a better image of benevolence than even our wildest dreams can conjure up.
The bad: Did a movie about monsters really need to try to fake reality through shaky cam? It was fine in the opening shots, but not in the fantasy.
I think what really sold me on the movie was the science teacher's almost giddy depiction of the end of the solar system upon the death of the sun while the children listened on in silent horror, a fear that leaks into Max's monster fantasy. As a long time Woody Allen fan it reminded me of young Alvy Singer's dilemma in Annie Hall (he doesn't want to do his homework because he learned the universe is expanding and will someday break apart), although I'm not so certain that Max truly fears the end of the universe as much as the end of his family, which to a kid would seem like the same thing.
Another interesting thing is the fallibility of the monsters Max has imagined. To allude to Woody Allen again, in Crimes and Misdemeanors, there is a (suicidal) philosopher who posits that no religion has ever created a completely benevolent image of god(s). If we create our gods--be they Zeus, Superman, or Carol--with our imagination, then what does it say about us that human folly so often is included in our myths about them? Perhaps, as the movie seems to point out, loving each other isn't always easy, but we do it anyway. And maybe that's a better image of benevolence than even our wildest dreams can conjure up.
The bad: Did a movie about monsters really need to try to fake reality through shaky cam? It was fine in the opening shots, but not in the fantasy.
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