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Looking back on Jim Henson's works years after his death is like taking a look back into another time. For unlike most so-called creative types attempting to sell to, or worse yet cynically exploit, children nowadays, Jim never seemed to really forget what it was like to be a child. And if there ever was a moment in which he demonstrated this, Labyrinth aside, it is 1979's Muppet Movie. Filmed as an allegorical story about how Henson came to work in children's television as a puppeteer and ended up with a half-hour show of his own on primetime television, The Muppet Movie ends up an affirmation of everything more progressive, understanding sorts would say to children who did not quite meet the expected norm during the 1980s. And as we enjoy the fruits of an era in which we are gagged and bound from speaking about anything lest someone might get offended, the open celebration of difference or diversity that formed a large part of The Muppet Show is on offer here. I have said it in other comments, but I must say it here. A great light in the world went out the day Jim Henson died.
The Muppet Movie begins with its cast sitting down to see the premiere of what were about to see for the next eighty or so minutes. In short, precise strokes, we are introduced to the major players as well as some of the minors. And when the story proper begins, boy are we given a great song to bring us into the moment. The Rainbow Connection painted both a beautiful and sad image of what the Muppets, especially Kermit, were. These were not just a bunch of felt puppets with singular personalities who combined to put on a show. They were living things based upon a part of all of us, only writ so much more boldly than we are used to. As each Muppet was introduced to us in turn, we saw another reflection of part of ourselves, and of course the children in the audience would respond differently to each character. Hence, everyone had a favourite. When Animal appeared behind a drum kit and attempted to eat a cymbal, I knew I had found one of mine. Nowadays, I am more of a Swedish Chef fan, but what the hey.
Complementing the characters was a string of musical numbers that further developed their motivations and personalities. Can You Picture That? shared an insight into Dr. Teeth and his band as well as the creative soul of Henson. But the most relevant song to me was Gonzo's number, asking what he is and where he came from. Many of us would spend a lifetime gazing into the stars and, like Gonzo, saying we knew we would be going back there someday. Not that all the songs were so deadly serious, of course. Fozzy and Kermit share a number after they decide to combine their talent (or lack thereof) and hit the road. If any evidence were required that present-day "musicians" have lost the ability to use the pop structure to create something listenable, this number would be it. Never before, and never again, would the group dynamic of a cast and the music so perfectly complement one another. With the puppeteers and voice actors so perfectly on top of their game, the human cast had a lot to live up to.
Which makes it all the more amazing that the human element also lived up to their end of the deal. Cameos literally pepper the film, with everyone from Steve Martin to Telly Savalas popping in to offer their support. Even Richard Pryor, the last man one would expect to see in a film about the Muppets, appears to set up a hilarious moment. Mel Brooks' cameo is just as disturbing to me as an adult as it was when I was a small boy, but I suspect that is because Henson knew why I would find it disturbing now. The big acting strength, though, comes from Charles Durning, who as Doc Hopper embodies everything both Henson and his audience determined to resist. At every junction, Hopper comes to either offer Kermit the chance to sell out and betray his own kind. Or perhaps offer stops being the right word when Hopper's attempts to ensure Kermit's compliance become progressively more forceful and violent. The whole thing is one big metaphor for how every artist has his heart broken by the world.
Of course, Animal also shows up to remind us that just because our friends are not sweet and cuddly does not make them any less of a friend. In point of fact, Animal turns out to be the best friend that Kermit has in that moment. And that has been the core message of every good show or film Henson has been involved in ever since. That shunning or dismissing others simply because of linguistic or cosmetic differences could literally be the worst mistake one ever makes. There can be little doubt that in today's world where a moron in a purple suit can tell my sons they are not good if they do not have good feelings for fifteen seasons and still not come under serious investigation by child welfare authorities, Henson's creature workshop could never have got off the ground. To misquote the album title, daring to be stupid is one thing, but enforcing the choice upon others is another matter. The Muppet Movie demonstrates how Henson dared to ask us all to think, both inside and outside of the proverbial box. There will never be another entirely like him, but he never would want us to stop trying.
Therefore, The Muppet Movie is the epitome of a ten out of ten film. If we were to send a film out into the cosmos to prove to intelligent life that we are worth more than being obliterated, this would be it.


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