When you do the math, you might think of “Where the Wild Things Are” as being in the same sandlot as movies based on video games. Think about it. A full-length film based on a children’s book that is only 10 sentences long.

And those surface dwellers that just want to be entertained and not have to actually, God forbid, THINK might feel the same with the claim that, “Well, gee, nothing really happens, now, does it?”

And they too would be right … on some level.

But this is Spike Jonze we’re talking about. More specifically, this is Spike Jonze doing Maurice Sendak by way of Dave Eggers.

Jonze is known for his unique music videos, and more importantly (especially for this cinephile), his making of films from Charlie Kaufman’s distinctive scripts (“Being John Malkovich” and “Adaptation”). Jonze’s work is a mixture of heart and wild creativity.

Sendak, the writer and illustrator of the children’s book on which the film is based, is legendary and has blessed Philadelphia with a collection of his works that can be seen at the Rosenbach Museum and Library.

Eggers (“A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius”) is an award-winning writer, editor and publisher who seems to be cut from the same smart, hipster cloth as Jonze. It is easy to see how the two came to collaborate on this singular work.

The story appears quite simple. Young Max (Max Records) throws a tantrum because he is not getting the attention he desires and runs away to an island inhabited by … the Wild Things.

Sounds simple, but what Jonze and Eggers have done is take Sendak’s story and use it to convey the very real and heart-rending ferocity of childhood. Nine-year-old Max may appear to be just another needy Ritilin kid. But through the eyes of Jonze, we see Max’s loneliness. We feel his desperation. His confusion at an older sister growing up too fast with little time for her little brother. The pain of a single mother at her wit’s end, whose work gets in the way and whose new boyfriend steals away her attention. His fear that the sun might go dark, thanks to an overly dramatic science teacher. And the unspoken pain of an absent father totally absent from the film.

Max witnesses his mother (Catherine Keener) actually taking some time out for herself. It is the last straw. For everyone. Max runs away and sails off to an island where he meets the Wild Things. Leaving his mother in tears.

In a world where divorce is the norm and dysfunction is simply the reality of our world, “Where the Wild Things Are” rips our hearts out with the honesty and reality of what it is REALLY like to be a young boy. An age when using your imagination didn’t result in someone telling you to grow up.

There is a purity to the film’s emotional expression. It strips away the corporate mainstream garbage to get to the very real, natural and raw feelings of youth. When fear was reserved for monsters and not pulled muscles, lost jobs or unpaid bills. When adulthood was still a mystery. When what your parents actually did when they went off to that unknown “office” was created by your imagination. Those wonderful times that ended in tears.

Max is a “real” troubled kid. Not what you might find on some Disney Channel movie. You feel his pain because we can all identify with Max from at least one moment in our lives. We may not have acted out visibly like he does, but inside, we have all thrown the same tantrums.

The Wild Things themselves are not just monsters but aspects of Max’s personality. In the book, they do little more than roar their terrible roars and gnash their terrible teeth and roll their terrible eyes and show their terrible claws. In the film we feel their rage and unspoken remorse. Their desire to question and escape authority. The confusing pain of unfulfilled promises. And the simple joy of telling stories and breaking things.

Jonze has borrowed some of his structure from “The Wizard of Oz.” What happens in Max’s reality rears its ugly head again through the Wild Things. And like Peter Pan’s Lost Boys, the Wild Things are in desperate need of a mother and family.

Jonze has made some fairly radical decisions in how he portrays the Wild Things. His choices for voice talent, for instance, are wonderful

In the end, “Where the Wild Things Are” is a special film for children, but especially for parents. For a “children’s film,” it can be rather dark and possibly a tad scary for the book’s target demographic. If your Wild Thing wants to see it, this might be an ideal opportunity for some bonding and discussion. But don’t expect the sort of movie that screams Happy Meal. This one just screams, “Let the wild rumpus start!”