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Of Muppets and men: A fist full of frog

Exploring humanity through fantasy

By Cody Klyne

“Another World, Another Time... In
the Age of Wonder.” It’s the phrase
plastered across the top of The

Dark Crystal (1982) poster tacked
up on the wall above my desk. It’s
creased, tattered, and yellowed
from years of service; the age of

the paper only amplifying the
grotesqueness of the Skeksis—one
of the vile bird-like villains of the
movie—that the eye can’t help but
be drawn to. “A Jim Henson film,”
it is as the title suggests—for those
who were too young to have seen it,
or are now too old to remember—
dark in tone, particularly when you
consider what Henson has come to
be best known for: an intellectual,
soft-spoken, soul-searching frog.

It’s not easy bein’ green

First debuting as a bit character on
the five-minute sketch program Sam
and Friends (1955), Kermit the Frog
has grown to symbolize and, in
some ways, eclipse the man behind
the genteel amphibian. So, what is
it about Kermit—the frog originally
born of an old woman’s coat—that
has allowed him to persevere in

an age of 3-D TVs and Michael

Bay blockbusters? Simply put:
simplicity.

Take for example the original
Muppet Movie (1979). Our story
begins with Kermit in his native
land of, well, the swamp. Banjo in
hand—don’t ask me how a frog got
ahold of a banjo, let alone how he
has the brain capacity or dexterity
to play one—the opening number
“The Rainbow Connection” sets the
stage for an hour and a half long
adventure filled with danger, self-
discovery, romance, and hijinks.
It’s here that any doubt regarding
the artistic merit of puppetry, at
least for most not-entirely-cynical
folks, should be put to rest. Broken
up by genuinely emotional ballads
that are left to contrast with wacky
high-energy musical numbers—I’m
looking at you Dr. Teeth and The
Electric Mayhem—the core of
the Muppets grows quickly as
instant friendships are made and,
remarkably, skirt the line and
manage to avoid being called into
question. Perhaps our suspension
of belief is maintained in some
part due to the sheer absurdity
of the Muppet motley crew. Case
in point: who am I to question
the kinship between a bear and a
frog or the sexual tension between
said frog and a pig? That’s where
12

the depth of Henson’s vision and
understanding of his audience
makes the difference. It’s the same
ineffable quality that has emerged
in Pixar films that bridges the gap
between, and captivates, children
and adults alike. Speaking of
which, where’s my The Incredibles
2?Anyway...

An example of this in the
Muppet Movie, the real coup de
grace to clinch the deal, is delivered
in a scene highlighting Kermit at
his most vulnerable: when what is,
in essence, little more than an arms’
length of green fabric and a pair
of ping pong balls questions the
“dream.” Kermit asks the kinds of
lofty life questions that more often
than not come across as hammy
or presumptuous in other more
“adult” films. Through the childlike
sincerity of his frog-shaped vessel,
Henson navigates relatable real
world concerns couched in a world
of naiveté and whimsy with relative
ease. Mortality, ethics, destiny,
love, and the pursuit of happiness;

children the fundamentals of

math and spelling, as well as any
number of practical life skills and
concepts: kindness, friendship, and
acceptance, to name a few. While
in later years Henson distanced
himself from the Street in order to
avoid having the company typecast
as a “purveyor of solely children’s
entertainment,” the impact that the
show has had on millions of people
should not be understated.

The cult of Muppet occult

The Dark Crystal (1982) was Henson
and company’s debut (descent) into
the world of dark fantasy; one that
was met with some resistance, if
box office numbers are anything to
go by (see sidebar). The spiritual
and brooding yin to the light-
hearted yang of Henson’s Muppets,
The Dark Crystal’s biggest draw at
the time was its use of advanced
animatronics: rods, cables, radio
controls, and full-body suits—it was
a live action film unlike anything
that had been released, Henson or

“,..who am I to question the kinship between a bear and a frog or
the sexual tension between said frog and a pig?”

common themes that draw back

to what I’d mentioned before as
something that has made Kermit
and the gang steadfast members of
the popular zeitgeist: simplicity. As
a recently graduated 20-something,
having had my fair share of
“Kermit moments” up to this point
in my life, with more to come, it’s
a scene that—though un-ironically
delivered by a frog—embodies the
very human quality of self-doubt.

The Street that Henson built
What do you get when you take
an eclectic mix of human actors,
an eight foot tall yellow bird, a
grouch in a can, two “odd couple”
best friends, and a virtual parade
of additional Muppet pals? Eight
Grammy Awards, 118 Emmy
Awards, and a program that has
worked its way into the very
fabric of our prepubescent cultural
tapestry: Sesame Street.

Looking back at my time “on”
Sesame Street—with its counting
vampire, woolie mammoth, and
pastel-coloured hominids—the
impression it left on my sponge-
like mind is one of the things that
I point to when asked why I’m so
weird-and-bizarre well-adjusted
as a young adult. In reality, Sesame
Street has taught generations of

NN NE OOOO OE OPO EIEN I OO EOI. OR ee eer ee am

otherwise.

Followed up by 1986’s
Labyrinth, starring David Bowie and
Jennifer Connelly, Henson stayed
the course and attempted to find a
happy medium between mystical
angst and slapstick absurdity.
Regarded as a cult classic, it didn’t
fare well at the box office. Perhaps
it was (spoilers) the premise of
the story itself that rendered the
potential for mass appeal DOA:

a bratty, head-in-the-clouds,
15-year-old girl, Sarah, wishes for
her helpless baby brother, Toby,
to be taken away by the Goblin
King Jareth (David Bowie) for
being a baby. Regardless, outside
of an amazingly over-the-top
performance from Bowie, the fact
remains that memorable moments,
like the “Magic Dance” scene, are
worthy of fandom in their own.

Labyrinth, perhaps more than
The Dark Crystal, stands as an
example of Henson’s successful
understanding of his target
audience; complimented by his
constant need to appeal toa
multigenerational viewership...
at least in theory. The numbers
of course still indicated that the
formula needed work. Either that
or maybe it was just a matter of
time on the part of moviegoers to

a a iY OK WU ew ewe ce

recognize the underlining maturity
of movies that, by all standards,
was made for “kids.” It’s a code
that Pixar has since cracked.

 

BOX OFFICE BREAKDOWN

 

The Muppet Movie (1979):
$273,976,557
Budget: $28 million

The Dark Crystal (1982): $40,577,001
Budget: $15 million

The Great Muppet Caper (1981):
$31,206,251
Budget: N/A

The Muppets Take Manhattan
(1984): $25,534,703
Budget: $8 million

Labyrinth (1986): $12,729,917
Budget: $25 million

 

 

THE MUPPETS CRIB SHEET

¢ The script for the new
movie took four years for
Jason Segel and his writing
partner, Nicholas Stoller, to
pen

¢ With an estimated budget
of $50,000,000 this is the
most financially-backed
Muppets project in the
franchise’s history

¢ New Zealand’s own Bret
McKenzie (one half of
Flight of the Conchords)
acted as the film’s music
supervisor and, as such,
wrote four original songs
for the film

¢ Due to “mild rude
humour” this is only the
second, in the history of
Muppet films, to receive a
PG rating (the first being
the 2002 made for TV
movie, It’s a Very Merry
Muppet Christmas Movie)

¢ Among the lofty list of
cameo appearances—more
than 30 some odd notable—
Feist and Danny Trejo
stand as two of the more
unexpected guests. Stay
sharp moviegoers!

¢ The theatrical release of the
film is preceded by a short
film, entitled Small Fry,
featuring characters from
Pixar’s Toy Story series