The Muppets were meta before it was cool.
Jim Henson’s marvelously zany, irreverent, monstrously
memorable cast of puppets – developed from primitive hand-and-rod and live-hand
puppets and incorporating full-body puppet characters as well as innovative
designs Henson created as technology shifted over time – had been making people
laugh worldwide with their ensemble sketch comedy, The Muppet Show, since the mid-1970s. Hapless straight-man Kermit
the Frog (Henson) and his bizarre cabaret of creatures would become a main
legacy for the creative ingénue, so it was inevitable that the franchise would
spawn a feature film. And so it did, in 1979 – produced by Henson and directed
by James Frawley, boasting a script by Jerry Juhl and Jack Burns – a
straightforward story framed as the Muppets themselves sitting down to a
screening in a movie theatre.
It’s a very simple story, at its heart; Kermit is a
good-hearted amphibian, strumming a banjo and singing songs about rainbows in
the middle of the swamp when he realizes he could be making it big in Hollywood,
so he sets out to find his way to California, meeting new friends along the way
who help him get there. He is pursued for his talents by the greedy Doc Hopper
(Charles Durning), who is determined to have a singing, dancing frog in his
restaurant commercials – but Kermit is, understandably, reluctant to shill for
an eatery whose specialty is fried frogs’ legs. The stakes are almost
ridiculously low, in reality, but from the Muppets’ perspective, anything that
keeps a person (or a frog, or a bear, or a ….whatever Gonzo is) from achieving
their dreams is a major threat.
And it is the pensive, beautiful way the Muppets have of
meandering from fun buddy road movie, to romantic comedy, to stage musical and
back again that makes The Muppet Movie so special, even after forty
years. It evokes every feeling the cinema can provide, from joy and laughter to
wistful tears – all the while reminding us that, despite our differences, we
all have something in our lives that we want more than anything, and sometimes
the deepest connections we find in life can come from the most peculiar, and
most seemingly random, of situations. Kermit even points out (to himself, no
less) that it is because they all believe in the dream that they have been able
to stick together and weather the odds to make it to Hollywood. The reality of
the Muppets is an optimistic one, rose-tinted to a fault, and even at its
boldest, their humor is never spiteful or crass. Even the most cynical or
sarcastic of Muppet characters – or, indeed, the most destructive (did
somebody say “BOOM”?!) – are not malicious; they just want to have a good
time, and spread their own (oft manic) happiness with the rest of the world.
And share it they do, with a who’s-who in 1970s celebrity
cameos from Albert Finney, Madeline Kahn and Steve Martin to Mel Brooks, Carol
Kane, Telly Savalas, and even Orson Welles. The
Muppet Movie was Edgar Bergen’s final film credit before his death in 1978;
fittingly, as he had been a favorite and early inspiration for young Jim Henson
in the 1950s, closing the circle with a small, but touching, moment in a film
full of wonderful beats. The absurdity of singing frogs, talking bears, and
kung-fu proficient pig prima donnas coexisting alongside the biggest names in
Hollywood of the time only adds to the fantasy – nobody bats an eye as Kermit
rides a bicycle in the middle of the street.
Forty years later, The Muppets endure – because they
represent a wonderful wildness, a weirdness that celebrates diversity,
nostalgia, silliness, and love. Because the entire premise of The Muppet Movie is the story of how a
ragtag bunch of misfits got together, each of them with a dream and a song, and
found a family amongst each other. Some of the jokes may seem dated, and yes,
there is a lot about the old Muppet films that definitely put them in specific
places in their strange floating timeline. But ultimately, The Muppet Movie and its sequels work because the Muppets
themselves are not merely characters, but concepts – and every archetype has
its place in their wacky world.
Our current entertainment climate often seems to have
outgrown such joyful simplicity, with its violence and fast-paced superhero
action, its fancy CG-effects and wry, media-savvy commentary on politics and
self-parody. It would be easy to say that the Muppets don’t really have a place
in the modern world; indeed, the attempts Disney has made within the past
decade-and-a-half have proven a lackluster series of offerings that try to keep
the franchise relevant, and yielding disappointing audience turnouts and sad
critical reviews. But the Muppets are, at their core, Jim Henson’s heart and
mind. Without him, they are only a spiritual successor to what made them
special forty years ago – what Disney has failed to recognize is that, without
that very difficult balance between silliness and sentiment, it doesn’t matter
how modern you try to make the Muppets.
They will never quite be what we grew
up with, but we can still look back on our memories with them and find laughter
and love – right where we did when we were younger. Theaters hosting the
fortieth anniversary screenings of The Muppet Movie in July may not have
been selling out, but those who came and sang softly along to “The Rainbow
Connection” and mouthed their favorite lines of dialogue did so because they
found meaning in what the Muppets stand for, and were eager to share it with
anyone else who cared about it.
In The Muppet Movie,
Gonzo sings: “There’s not a word yet, for
old friends who just met.” And as we celebrate the fortieth anniversary of
the first Muppet Movie, introducing a new generation to our dear old favorites,
and finding new ways of appreciating the legacy of the man who made them come
alive so beautifully, we come to understand that what Gonzo is really talking
about in “I’m Going to Go Back There Someday” is not a place – but a time. It
is childhood, it is the land of dreams, and it is hope. And someday, we’ll all find it.
You’ve guessed it: The lovers, the dreamers, and you.
-Dana Culling