There's one in all of us.

Count me in among the millions that wanted Spike Jonze's head on a platter if Where the Wild Things Are wasn't fantastic. I went in assuming I'd either leave the theater bitter and disappointed or ecstatic and giddy and raving about how great it was. Instead I came out wanting to kick and throw things, run, climb trees, and fall down exhausted. It made me quiet and moody and inarticulate. In other words, it is fantastic, and in way I never expected.

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