CHICAGO – After unleashing the most aggressive and exuberantly playful marketing campaign in recent memory, “The Muppets” is gearing to take over Thanksgiving weekend. Yet since Jim Henson’s brilliant and beloved creations haven’t been given a decent vehicle in nearly two decades, Muppet fans are holding their collective breath that director James Bobin’s musical comedy will be a much-belated return to form. Co-writer/star Jason Segel’s passion for Henson’s original vision is mightily encouraging, though veteran Muppeteer Frank Oz’s negative reaction to the script appears to be a bad omen.
Regardless, this latest cinematic effort has the power to introduce new generations to Kermit the Frog, Miss Piggy, Fozzie Bear, Gonzo the Great, and the entire legacy of Henson’s groundbreaking work. His ingenious fusions of puppetry, marionettes and animatronics had remarkable screen presence that rivaled the charisma and nuances of any human co-star. The Muppeteers respected their characters as individuals and never treated them as mere caricatures. It was Henson’s intention for each Muppet to reflect universally relatable aspects of the human psyche: Kermit’s plucky ambition and frustrated disillusionment, Fozzie’s neurotic need to please, Piggy’s insecurity and self-absorption, Big Bird’s childlike naïvité, Oscar the Grouch’s self-satisfied pessimism. Add all the Muppets together, and they equal a fully textured human being.
Though Henson was focused primarily on pushing the technical boundaries in each successive picture by making the Muppets appear to inhabit real-world settings, what continues to resonate are the chemistry and relationships between these handcrafted yet fully realized beings. What’s especially striking about the finest Muppet features is their intensely personal nature. Instead of preaching sickly sweet morals, they embody Henson’s optimistic worldview and vision of a society where man and nature learned to live in harmony. Kermit’s desire to make “millions of people happy” paralleled Henson’s goal to have audiences believe in the “magic” he created, thus allowing adults to connect with their inner youth. There was a purity to Henson’s work that is entirely lost in today’s franchise-driven family entertainment overrun with irony and cynicism. There was absolutely nothing ironic about Henson’s love of humanity and belief in the vitality of the imagination.
Since there are only a handful of theatrically released Muppet features to rank and the new film is essentially about the history of The Muppets, HollywoodChicago has decided to play the music, light the lights and count down the top ten Muppet movies of all time. With the exception of the first two misguided titles, these pictures are all must-sees, well worth checking out on DVD. They also prove that Bobin and Segal have major flippers to fill…
10. “Muppets From Space” (1999)
We begin with the picture that “The Muppets” has wisely set out to distance itself from as far as possible. It was the final big screen vehicle for Kermit and the gang before a series of increasingly-awful TV specials that bent over backwards to make the Muppets appear “hip.” Director Tim Hill (who went on to helm “Alvin and the Chipmunks”) clearly had no idea what made the Muppets appealing in the first place. He stages an opening dance sequence set to The Commodores’ “Brick House” (one of several uninspired song choices) that culminates with Kermit exclaiming, “Way to get down with your bad selves” [insert nauseated groan here]. The plot centers on Gonzo (still played to this day by the tireless Dave Goelz) and his pursuit to connect with the alien community from whence he came. It’s hard to believe that this soulless sci-fi parody was somehow inspired by Paul Williams’ soulful tune, “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday” in the original “Muppet Movie.” In his final theatrical bow as Piggy, Oz does what he can with the nearly laughless script that depicts his bovine diva as an opportunistic anchorwoman (there’s admittedly one funny moment when she freezes on-camera). As for Kermit, he’s been reduced to a bland placeholder for Hallmark-level warmth and wisdom. Yet the most glaring vexation of all is Pepe the Prawn (Bill Barretta), an insufferable, Jar Jar Binks-like camera hog who seems to have been created for the sole purpose of injecting innuendo into the proceedings. And despite the writers’ efforts to send-up every sci-fi blockbuster under the sun, they failed to include a single “Pigs in Space” reference.
9. “Muppet Treasure Island” (1996)
Here’s where it all went wrong. Director Brian Henson (son of Jim) attempted to borrow the formula from his successful 1992 version of “A Christmas Carol” and apply it to Robert Louis Stevenson’s classic, yet the morose material proves to be an ill fit for the Muppets’ sunny charm. All attempts to lighten the mood with screwball humor devolve into shrill slapstick. As Long John Silver, Tim Curry isn’t charming or creepy enough to satisfy on any level. He flashes his trademark Cheshire-like grin, but there’s little joy beneath it. The same could be said for the entire enterprise, which lumbers along for an hour and forty minutes without ever truly engaging the viewers. The pacing is off and even the most promising gags fail to build into a memorable sketch. What saves the picture from disaster is the redeeming chemistry between Steve Whitmire (as Kermit) and Oz, who doesn’t materialize as Piggy until the last act, but still manages to steal the show. In fact, all the best bits are saved for the final half hour, such as when Kermit gallantly swishes his sword in a ridiculous battle with Curry. Barry Mann and Cynthia Weil’s songs are thoroughly forgettable, though there’s something touchingly bittersweet about their romantic refrain, “Love Led Us Here,” particularly in the way it’s performed by Kermit and Piggy as they hang suspended from a rope over a watery grave. Love did indeed lead the Muppeteers to this precipice, but by the time this picture was released, there was nothing left to save them from the inevitable fall.
8. “The Dark Crystal” (1982)
And now for a quantum leap in quality. Henson’s artistic ambition was too restless to settle for the realms of “Sesame Street” and “The Muppet Show.” He truly believed that puppetry could be utilized in any genre, and set out to win over new moviegoers with this visionary fantasy devoid of kid-friendly cuddliness. It’s a flawed effort overall, but there are several images and sequences that prove to be unforgettable. Brian Froud’s conceptual art served as the chief inspiration for Henson’s strikingly detailed and often grotesque creatures. The plot is a mishmash of familiar tropes and Jungian archetypes, with a narrator bluntly identifying wide-eyed hero Jen the Gelfling as “the Chosen One.” A cracked sacred crystal has thrust the world into darkness and gloom, while splitting its inhabitants into groups of good (Mystics) and evil (Skeksis). Perhaps Henson was further encouraged by Oz and George Lucas’ success with Yoda in “The Empire Strike Back,” thus giving him the necessary momentum to tackle such a sprawling, Lucas-like epic. The biggest flaws in the film are the eerily hollow Gelflings, whose immobile features are only as expressive as early motion capture. Their shortcomings are all the more disappointing in light of the tremendous care and detail put into the look of their co-stars. There’s a staggering sequence set in a planetarium containing a towering, whirring model of the Heavens. Though the story isn’t played for laughs, it is bolstered by a few whimsical flourishes, such as the adorable, dog-like character of Fizzgig (played by Goelz), a ball of fuzz with a nervous little face that breaks out into a gaping mouth. Yet what really brings the entire project together is the moody, haunting score by Trevor Jones, which remains one of the most under-appreciated in the history of cinema.
7. “The Great Muppet Caper” (1981)
As an elegantly-staged novelty, this ode to ’30s-era Hollywood is a hoot. In his feature directorial debut, Henson is as subversively self-reflexive as ever, allowing the Muppets to consistently break the fourth wall, poking fun as the formulaic plot that they’ve found themselves trapped within. After one character is asked her reason for rattling off a laundry list of story detail, she replies, “It’s plot exposition, it has to go somewhere.” Henson makes no secret of the fact that his caper yarn is merely a clothesline on which to hang a series of spectacular set-pieces featuring remarkably advanced animatronic effects. After Kermit famously rode his Schwinn bicycle in his film debut, this second screen outing allows the Muppets to ride bikes together in a group. They also scale walls, tap dance, crawl on the floor, and in one particularly memorable shot, crash a motorcycle through a stained glass window. Joe Raposo’s songs are funny and splashy but ultimately lack the heart of other Muppet musicals. Yet his melodies still manage to drive the film’s two best sequences, each providing a larger-than-life stage for Piggy to shine like never before. The most memorable tune by far is “The First Time It Happens,” a Henry Mancini-style ballad that morphs into a rousing Busby Berkeley-like dance sequence. There’s also a hilarious Esther Williams-inspired swimming routine where water is seen bubbling out of Piggy’s nostrils. The passel of cameos seem sloppily tacked on, save for John Cleese’s dryly amusing portrayal of a boorish husband and Charles Grodin’s deadpan brilliance as a laughable sleaze infatuated with Piggy. One could easily imagine Grodin and Piggy starring in a spin-off of “The Heartbreak Kid [Pig].”
6. “Follow That Bird” (1985)
Few Muppeteers were as accomplished as Caroll Spinney, the versatile genius who played Big Bird and Oscar the Grouch for a full four decades on “Sesame Street.” Though Spinney starred in several TV specials as well, “Sesame” fans tend to forget this big-screen vehicle, which now plays like a nostalgic portal into the past glories of what used to be the single greatest family program on television. Picture a time back when Elmo was a mere extra, Cookie Monster wasn’t a health nut and Ernie and Bert were accepted as the chaste, heterosexual friends that the are. That’s the “Street” I remember from my childhood, and it’s wonderfully preserved by Ken Kwapis’ delightful road comedy. Though Big Bird is technically the star, he’s routinely upstaged by Oscar, who brings down the house with his uproarious Grouch anthem, which he delivers in front of a giant, “Patton”-sized flag.
Judy Freudberg and Tony Geiss’ script has a thorough understanding of Big Bird’s timeless appeal to kids: he’s a kid himself, who just so happens to be inhabiting a gawky body that towers over adults. In this film’s opening scenes, Big Bird is adopted by an avian family closer to “his own kind,” thus leaving Sesame Street at the forceful invitation of the vindictive Ms. Finch (Sally Kellerman). Yet Big Bird quickly regrets the move and flees back home, which sets off a zany cross country road trip, as his friends drive to the rescue. Too much screen time is spent on the bumbling crooks intent on turning Big Bird into a carnival freak, but their subplot does lead to Randy Sharp and Karen Brooks’ timeless tearjerking tune, “I’m So Blue.” In fact, all the songs in the film are first-rate, especially those written by Jeff Moss: “One Little Star” (beautifully performed by Alaina Reed-Hall) and “Upside Down World” (sung by Ernie and Bert, who are truly one of the all-time great comic duos). And let’s not overlook the priceless sequence set in a Grouch restaurant (featuring Sandra Bernhard as a scowling waitress) that brings new meaning to the term “toss salad.”
5. “The Witches” (1990)
Released three months after Henson’s death on May 16, 1990 at the age of 53, this triumphantly spooky fantasy hints at what the late genius could’ve been capable of later in his career. His ingenuity and audacity are still present in this picture (for which he served as executive producer), but they are perfectly married with the vision of director Nicolas Roeg (“Walkabout”) and the spirit of author Roald Dahl, whose marvelous book served as its source material. Anjelica Huston elevates scenery-chewing camp to the level of an art form as the monstrously rodent-like Grand High Witch, whose ghastly features are squeezed beneath a coldly radiant face. The comedic and horrific high point of the picture takes place in a banal boardroom where the witches gather for their annual conference and Huston undergoes her hideous transformation, while unveiling her potion designed to turn children into mice. This is where Henson’s painstaking craftsmanship comes into play. His Creature Shop’s designs for the mice are superb combinations of puppetry and animatronics that somehow manage to convey the personalities of the children while still looking authentic alongside actual animals. One of the witch’s first victims is Luke (Jasen Fisher), a Harry Potter-like chap whose grandma (Mia Zetterling) had a previous run-in with Huston. Generations have loved the film because it pits the small, cunning mice (whose perspectives are conveyed through multiple floor-level shots) against the grotesque adults. Roeg’s background in horror (“Don’t Look Now”) makes him well-equipped for this material, and he creates some genuinely chilling moments, such as when a child becomes imprisoned within a painting. Zetterling’s moving and wryly funny performance single-handedly carries her scenes with Fisher, who appears as detached as a young Daniel Radcliffe.
4. “The Muppets Take Manhattan” (1984)
Since they were made during the last eleven years of his life, each of Henson’s big screen endeavors are marked by a sense of loss, yet none more so than his final theatrical vehicle for Kermit and the gang. This is easily one of the funniest and most touching of all Muppet movies, enhanced by the infectious rhythms of Jeff Moss’ songs, which gained great poignance in the aftermath of Henson’s death (the Muppeteers performed Moss’ “Saying Goodbye” at Henson’s funeral). In the director’s chair, Oz builds the comedic setpieces beautifully while allowing for moments of real warmth. Whereas the Muppets instantly gained Rich and Famous Contracts from Hollywood producers in “The Muppet Movie,” here they’re forced work from the ground up in order to become stars on Broadway. Without Henson’s customary winks to the audience, Oz creates a stronger narrative for the Muppets to inhabit, while giving Kermit more depth and range than ever before. He snaps on his perpetually needy friends (“Can’t you take care of yourselves?”) and tries on a variety of disguises in order to break into show business, occasionally acquiring the desperation of Rupert Pupkin.
Oz and co-writers Tom Patchett and Jay Tarses also dream up some truly funny sketches for the celebrity cameos, the best of which belong to Joan Rivers (who cheers up Piggy with a ghoulish makeup job) and Gregory Hines (who earns big laughs with the line, “You gave Jenny the huggies?”). As college graduates attempting to get their variety show, “Manhattan Melodies” seen on Broadway, the Muppets go through the relatable growing pains of budding artists attempting to realize their dreams. Henson personally staged a marvelous “rat scat” sung by Rizzo the Rat (Whitmire) that proves to be just as catchy as Moss’ “I’m Gonna Always Love You,” performed during a charming “flashback” sequence that launched the “Muppet Babies” series (which debuted later that year). It’s nearly impossible to avoid getting misty-eyed during Henson’s final line, “What better way could anything end—hand in hand with a friend?” since it ultimately proved to be the end in more ways than one.
3. “Labyrinth” (1986)
Though it has achieved cult status in the years following its box office flop, this deliriously uneven yet hugely entertaining fantasy remains Henson’s most misunderstood and underrated work of his career. It’s a startlingly touching portrait of a girl, Sarah (Jennifer Connelly), perched on the precarious line separating childhood from adolescence. She’s faced with adult responsibilities but still feels the need to escape into her imagination, populated by images and characters reminiscent of the tall tales that she loved in her youth. Henson’s story is not a direct adaptation of Lewis Carroll’s “Alice in Wonderland,” but it is infinitely superior to every cinematic adaptation of Carroll’s work. He nails the author’s absurdist wit, mind-twisting riddles and devious love of misdirection. Paired again with conceptual artist Brian Froud (his “Dark Crystal” collaborator), Henson riffs on everything from L. Frank Baum and the Brothers Grimm to Maurice Sendak and M.C. Escher.
The adventure begins when Sarah is shocked to find her shallow prayers answered when the Goblin King (David Bowie) kidnaps her crying baby brother (Toby Froud, son of Brian) and takes him to her kingdom, located at the center of a sprawling maze, which is designed to externalize the labyrinth of Sarah’s own psyche. This is one heroine who’s assuredly the opposite of a cutesy, Disneyfied teen—she’s angry, whiny, selfish and rather insufferable in the opening scenes, but she grows on you (as does the film). It also helps that Connelly, who was 14 at the time of filming, already sported a natural onscreen presence and striking beauty. Bowie, however, seems less like a Goblin King and more like a bemused guest star on “The Muppet Show.” His songs are often awkwardly juxtaposed with the action, amounting to little more than distractions. The real highlight here is the phenomenal upgrade in character detail (in contrast to “Crystal”), typified by the animatronic expressions of Hoggle (voiced by a wonderfully crotchety Brian Henson) and the heart-meltingly sweet face of Ludo (a beast clearly modeled after Sendak). The picture’s Pythonesque tone comes courtesy of screenwriter Terry Jones, and is reminiscent of Henson’s early skits on “Saturday Night Live.” One sequence set in The Bog of Eternal Stench” has more flatulent gags than “Blazing Saddles.” It’s a terrific film, though the subsequent, short-lived series it spawned (“The Storyteller”) is even better.
2. “The Muppet Movie” (1979)
A masterpiece, pure and simple. It emerged on the heels of 1977’s TV special “Emmet Otter’s Jug-Band Christmas,” in which Henson experimented with cinematic techniques that he had hoped to utilize on the big screen. His efforts paid off in spades. This rollicking feel-good picture tells the origin story of how the Muppets met and achieved success onscreen, but it’s told with an unusual amount of feeling and poetry. That’s because the film is really about Henson himself, his efforts to spread joy around the world, and the lifelong collaborators that gradually became his family. Paul Williams’ extraordinary songs are essential to the films’ success, since they dig deep into character’s inner confusion and stubborn desire to find their place in the universe—“the rainbow connection,” if you will. Throughout the film, it’s clear that Henson isn’t content with merely hurling his creatures onto a human canvas—he wants to achieve a sense of wonder. There’s a wonderful moment when Kermit engages in a conversation with a doppleganger that ends up affirming his refusal to give up. It’s unclear whether Kermit is talking to God, or if he’s discovering that sometimes the best wisdom comes from within. The fact that this brief but unforgettable scene raises such provocative questions is a testament to the enduring power of Henson’s artistry.
As for Oz, his portrayal of Piggy is flat-out Oscar-worthy—conveying her hunger for the spotlight and consuming lust for Kermit with each movement and whimper. Her torch song to Kermit, “Never Before,” is hilariously off-key, but is also emblematic of Oz and Henson’s collaboration, which deserves to be hailed as one of the greatest in the history of show business. Among the film’s wealth of cameos, the very best is reserved for Steve Martin as a put-upon waiter who earns guffaws simply through his delivery of the line, “Oh…may I?” Simply put, the picture is an overwhelming achievement from top to bottom that proves Muppets don’t need an endless stream of cultural references in order to get laughs. Many of the film’s funniest moments are spawned simply from the Muppets’ childlike view of the world, punctuated by a literal fork in the road.
1. “The Muppet Christmas Carol” (1992)
Since the Muppets’ sublime adaptation of Charles Dickens’ immortal classic is indeed their finest film to date, it proves that a great Henson-less Muppet movie is indeed possible, yet every single frame is infused with the late master’s spirit. Taking the reins as director, Brain Henson made this film as a loving tribute to his father, epitomized by the film’s final, profoundly moving refrain of “The Love We Found.” The picture has remained such a beloved holiday perennial that it has served as an introduction to Dickens for various generations of kids. I’ll never forget the time that I attended a Goodman Theatre production of “A Christmas Carol,” and overheard a man informing his young son that the version they were about to see would feature only one Marley (and wouldn’t be portrayed by Statler or Waldorf). Jerry Juhl’s screenplay impeccably balances Dickens’ story with Muppet humor, while finding ingenious ways for the slapstick to enhance (rather than disrupt) the story.
Michael Caine’s performance as Scrooge is not a mere deadpan walk-on. It’s a beautifully restrained piece of work that never hits an inauthentic note while navigating through the character’s emotional arc (it’s also vastly superior to other notable screen portrayals of the curmudgeon). Whitmire does a fine job as Kermit, but he truly shines as Rizzo the Rat, the comic foil to Gonzo’s Dickens (Goelz in the performance of his career). Their banter throughout the film is in keeping with Henson’s penchant for self-reflexivity, but it never upstages the story’s emotional core. There’s a truly ominous magic to the sequences involving Scrooge’s visiting apparitions. The Ghost of Christmas Past moves with an ethereal lucidness achieved through underwater photography, while the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come is able to conjure a swirling vortex out of thin air. Jerry Nelson exudes Hagrid-like warmth as the Ghost of Christmas Present, while Oz entirely preserves Miss Piggy’s sass in the role of Mrs. Cratchit (I love it when she threatens to raise Scrooge “right off the pavement” with her fist). And yet, what ultimately holds the film together are the songs by Paul Williams, which are as jubilant as they are transcendently powerful. A great many colleagues of mine have informed me that “Muppet Christmas Carol” is among their very favorite movies, and it’s easy to see why. It may be one of the most moving films ever made.
 [15] | By MATT FAGERHOLM [16] |
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