Where the Wild Things Are monsters names?

Where the Wild Things Are monsters names?
In Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are, the "wild things" are nameless; in Spike Jonze's movie version, which opens tomorrow, they're called Carol (a male, voiced by James Gandolfini), Alexander, Judith, Ira, and Douglas. Jonze and Sendak talk about monster-naming in a roundtable interview in the October 19 issue of Newsweek:

How did you name them?

Jonze: Dave [Eggers, the screenwriter] and I named them. We took the book and went to Kinko's and blew up big poster-size images of each spread. Our dining-room walls were covered with every spread of the book. As we'd write, we'd look at the images, just sort of soaking it in. It was a process of going back to the book and sitting and listening to the character. You realized how certain characters came and went in the book. The characters appearing and disappearing, it makes it more wild.

Maurice, you never had names for the characters?

Sendak: I never wanted them to have names. When it was an opera and the director and I were working on it during rehearsal, we had to have names to tell them when they were screwing up. They had Jewish names: Moishe, Schmuel. You have to remember this is an English opera house. We were all speaking Yiddish. It was very funny. But the names were dropped after the opera. They never had names until they became movie stars.

Which is most effective (scary or funny): ordinary Jewish names, ordinary Anglo names, or no names at all? Would you have preferred that the wild things be given traditionally scary names from folklore and fairy tales: Igor, Grendel, Ichabod? Or should the names have been invented, such as Voldemort and Cruella?

Read outtakes from the interview at Pop Vox, Newsweek's culture blog.

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This is a huge success, and I believe that it will reach that status now called "classic," being experienced over and over in whatever ways that classics will in the future.

I'll let others note the purity in the way that sharp childhood is evoked. It is the emotional center of the thing. I'll be more interested here in noting the cinematic use of space. Jonze is famous for this, and how he can connect it to the folds in the narrative.

"Folds" in this context have to do with nesting of narrative elements. For instance the "real world" segments feature eating (twice), fort (twice), snowball fight, wild suit, pileon, pulling at toes, lost marriage, broken model of a heart, being king, son/sun dying and so on. The "wild world" features the same things twisted in ways that suggest the real narrative describing the inner character of Max. This "folding" gives us a place to stand and engages us more deeply, as a key narrative device. There is even a smaller inner fold where Carol (the Max surrogate) makes a model of his world, hidden in the desert. And another where Max enters KW.

I am more interested in the spatial folding. Yup, the way that Jonze has decided to set up and elaborate a vocabulary of movement.

Here's what we have, I think. I have only seen this once and will have to wait for DVD study to confirm it.

The scenes I am working with here are the ones with physical motion, where both the camera and the subjects move: the dogchasing, snowball fight, the amazing encounter with the waves when approaching the island, the rumpus and then the dirtball fight. Frozen motionpaths are in the fort's appendage, the "pile," and indicated by the stickweaving in the global fort and houses.

I believe these all use the same motion template. When someone invents a movie annotation tool where we can find and describe this, it will be easy to check and show. Right now it is an impression, but I got the feeling when watching that wave scene (in IMAX) that I would see the same motion paths in the forthcoming rumpus. Perhaps it was the appearance of the ululating sound that was used every time something got frantic, and by that time twice already. Perhaps it was the obvious reference to the Hokusai woodblock ("The Great Wave off Kanagawa"), where a wild wave becomes an actor, a wild thing dwarfing an iconic mountain, whose shape I thought I also saw on-screen.

I would not be surprised either if Spike used a sigla to denote this motion (like Joyce does in "Finnegans Wake") and that the sigla was KW, denoting the actual paths, the K in plan and the W in the vertical plane. Thus, KW swallowing/eating Max, apart from the obvious vaginal association also takes on a deeply cinematic one, worthy of "Adaptation." I know the work on this was done in Melbourne. Could it be that this apparent one-man shop "Digital Rein" managed this? In an unconnected area, am I misremembering? I recall the phrase was "Let the Wild Rumpus Begin!" (not "start").

Ted's Evaluation -- 3 of 3: Worth watching.

Do the monsters in Where the Wild Things Are have names?

When working on the 1983 opera adaptation of the book with Oliver Knussen, Sendak gave the monsters the names of his relatives: Tzippy, Moishe, Aaron, Emile, and Bernard.

What do the monsters in Where the Wild Things Are represent?

The big and terrifying but easily swayed creatures of the forest represent Max's fiercest emotions. When he is banished to his room for a time-out without dinner, he surrenders himself to them, entering in a "wild rumpus" with his anger and upset.

How many monsters in Where the Wild Things Are book?

Released pictures of “Where The Wild Things Are” movie have revealed five monsters, but there are actually seven creatures in the script. And in the original story there are nine monsters (though two of them seem lesser and are only featured in two panels).

Where the Wild Things Are girl monster name?

Maurice Sendak, author of Where the Wild Things Are, told Newsweek he “never wanted them to have names.” But in the movie, the wild things are called Alexander, Carol (male), Douglas, Ira and Judith.