The Muppets were already a well-established media franchise long before they had themselves a movie. How ‘bout a tiresome history lesson, which I’ll try to make entertaining and brief?
Master puppeteer Jim Henson sought to use his discipline to achieve show business success – and succeeded. Consider some of the programming he’s mostly responsible for: “Sesame Street,” “Fraggle Rock,” “The Bear in the Big Blue House.” So, basically, this is children’s entertainment that is meant almost exclusively for children. It was this criticism, lobbied against Henson’s “Sesame Street” in 1969 (that is one long running show), that inspired Henson to create a true family program, something with universal entertainment value that could be cherished equally by children and adults. Hence the Muppets.
“The Muppet Show,” possibly the artistic highlight of Henson’s career, ran from 1976 to 1981, and thus just predates my own birth. My older, hippie college roommate couldn’t understand our age difference, and that I hadn’t grown up watching first-run Muppets. My impression, mostly through watching clips on YouTube, is that “The Muppet Show” was a variety show in the classical mold – skits, musical numbers, you name it, hosted by a different human celebrity each week. Sadly, my best frame of reference for all this is Meet the Feebles, but I’ll try to maintain an innocent outlook.
The distinction that “The Muppet Show’s” host was human is important, because otherwise the program was inhabited entirely by puppets – some of them human puppets, to build the confusion. This is what distinguishes “The Muppet Show” from similar programs, and much of the show’s humor (for it was a decidedly comic program) came from the astoundingly clever writing staff playing with the very puppeethood of their stars. For you see, the Muppets are self-consciously celebrities, much like the Looney Tunes in their later shorts. This imbues a certain skewed reality on their shenanigans, as star spokesfrog Kermit maintains a strong presence on late night talk shows (and event grand marshalling) to this day. This felt amphibian is as real to most people as someone like Clint Eastwood – who may himself be the result of advanced puppetry nowadays.
(With DVD technology as it is, I have no good excuse for avoiding “The Muppet Show,” but I’ve been too busy watching Charlie Chan movies instead. Man, I’m weird.)
The most astounding thing about the Muppets (that vast, Simpson-scale cast of assorted puppet personalities) is how obviously fake they are. When questions of the Uncanny Valley come into play, these guys are way over on Perfectly Normal Mountain. I mean, they’re just cheap masses of felt and bed sheets, with hands obviously animating them, and inexpressive google eyes (they can search for anything) perched upon their deadened heads. But that’s where brilliant animation comes in, for I am attributing as much humanity to these mop monsters as I do to Daffy Duck in Duck Amuck. Performed by Henson, Frank “Yoda” Oz, and a vast troupe of skilled Muppeteers, these beasts seem more alive than the cast of just about any teenage soap opera.
The Muppet Movie is, I’d say, Jim Henson’s masterpiece, the culmination of his career for which he is the real auteur – even though he’s only a puppeteer (and producer – eh same thing). The director here is James Frawley, a not-unskilled helmer who provides the appropriate “movieness” to this TV show adaptation (a notoriously difficult sort of movie). The writers, Jack Burns and Jerry Juhl, were the head writers of “The Muppet Show” in its first and second seasons, respectively, and thus incredibly talented guys who fully understood Henson’s vision. I’m talking some of the most gifted humorists and stand-ups of their generation here. The Muppet Movie was not wanting for talent…or heart.
The Muppet Movie opens at World Wide Studios (I love these off-model movie studios in movies about movies – they always seem so crackerjack…like Fox). And just when you’re asking what sort of a movie could be made out of a fourth wall-breaking variety show, the movie’s fourth wall is broken (for the first of 108 times) as Statler and Waldorf appear to criticize the concept of a Muppet Movie. And really, while this movie ends up having a proper narrative, it still retains the anarchic, parodic tone of the variety show. (And this was filmed while the show was still in heavy production, X-Files movie style – that must’ve been a very trying year for Kermit, and a real bear for Fozzie.)
If the idea of Statler and Waldorf criticizing the movie means little to you, this next scene is going to explode your head. Just about every first (and second, and third) tier Muppet is assembled in a movie theater, preparing for a screening of The Muppet Movie (presumably a different Muppet Movie than the Muppet Movie we’re watching, because a black hole didn’t appear on my television while watching this). This is a chaotic introduction for folks like myself with only a functional knowledge of the Muppet panoply. Kermit explains, in a sideways way, that the film they (we) are about to see is a highly fictionalized account of how the Muppets got started – making this a sort of prequel to the show, as told by members of the show now. It’s amazing how well The Muppet Movie (the first level, real world Muppet Movie) anticipates and mocks some of the stupider permutations of TV show adaptations.
We’re now in the film-within-a-film, the Muppet Movie made by and for Muppets. For the first time, the Muppets are not stage bound before a live audience, so a lengthy aerial shot communicates the expected cinematic escalation to us. Slowly we’re introduced to Kermit in his natural habitat, full body visible for the first time ever, the real swamp contrasting nicely with his fake felt form. (Jim Henson actually spent five days buried in swamp water to achieve this effect. The film is very technically proficient, but I shall cease bringing it up so as to not question the film’s illusion of realism – the movie breaks the fourth wall enough as it is.)
Kermit plays the banjo with astounding skill, singing the lovely, sweet, classic “The Rainbow Connection” – yeah, it derives from a variety show, so it’s something of a musical. You know, Kermit’s appearance (still basically a sock puppet dating back from 1955) is so amazingly simple, it makes Gromit seem over-designed. Henson had the most talented hand of any non-masseuse I’ve ever known. And Kermit, like the whole Muppet pantheon, is left-handed – my brothers! – a technical result of their creation.
Song over, Kermit is visited by Dom DeLuise in a row boat. This movie employs a MASSIVE amount of celebrity cameos, and following its variety roots (and meta narrative) we’re supposed to think of them more as themselves than as characters. Anyway, DeLuise is ostensibly a movie agent, is looking for direction (Kermit suggests Hare Krishna – ha!). Following a comic dialogue where DeLuise manages to irritate me far less than usual (and somehow remind me more of Chef Prudhomme than usual), Kermit vows to travel to Hollywood for an open frog casting call, wishing not so much for fame, but to make “millions of people happy.” Then an intentionally fake alligator chases DeLuise away, anticipating his bizarre future career with Don Bluth.
Kermit bicycles (a funny visual) through extensive roadside construction. The token narrative of this film is a road movie, meaning an excuse for random disconnected events – this is not a criticism. Kermit stops off at the El Sleezo Café just in time to see James Coburn hurled outside. Kermit enters, quickly turning green in disgust to see the place serves frog legs (an even greater threat, since we’ve only just become aware of Kermit’s own shapely thighs). So the frog walks up to the bar (joke resemblance intentional), seated between Madeline Kahn and Terry Savalas. Pianist Paul Williams plays (this thing has more celebrities than a detox center), and the (bar) audience groans in anticipation of the stage act…
“Wakka wakka wakka!” (Some things always get a laugh out of me, and “Wakka wakka wakka!” is one of them – I love anti-humor.) Fozzie Bear (a bear) takes the stage to tell his characteristically awful jokes. Kermit positively IDs that the Hare Krishna joke will be a running gag (thus saving me the trouble), then takes to the stage to dance alongside Fozzie and save his act. This is an astounding effects moment. Outside, fat Southern restaurateur Doc Hopper (Charles Durning) spies Kermit, and thus sees green. You see, Hopper runs a failing frog leg franchise (hey, it’s the Muppets today), and sees Kermit as the perfect spokesfrog to give his business a, erm, leg up. That’s right, this guy’s our villain, as much as Elmer Fudd is a bad guy. And again, the fact that a frog leg chef could develop antagonism towards a frog is the sort of intentionally silly, arch tale the Muppets tell so well.
Fozzie clears out the bar with a bad pun, then resolves to accompany Kermit to Hollywood. They set off on a road trip in Fozzie’s Studebaker (“A bear in his natural habitat.”), Hopper pursuing in his Caddy, chauffeured by Austin Pendleton. Hopper corners Kermit with an offer of commercial employment (shades of Michigan J. Frog), which Kermit wants no part of. As Henson’s alter-ego, Kermit has artistic principles. This is the movie’s deeper significance.
Cue another song (it’s been long enough for one): “Movin’ Right Along,” a jaunty duet between Kermit and Fozzie. Road trip footage follows, gags on screen reflecting the lyrics nicely. The duo runs into Big Bird (I count this as a cameo), who’s seeking to break into public television – ha! Then it’s another abortive business proposal from Hopper, which somehow inspires a truly obtuse running gag involving Carol Kane as “Myth.”
The real narrative drive to this episodic tale is slowly introducing further members of the Muppet high court. The following scene fulfills this mightily. Let’s see…acid rock and long-outdated (but still funny) stereotypes of 1970s counterculture – Yup, it must be Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem. Meet Teeth, (Pink) Floyd, Zoot, Janice (quasi-Joplin), Scooter and ANIMAL! Hooray for Animal! This is comedy catnip for me, a perpetually hungry pile of monosyllabic beastliness. Basically, he’s like every drummer ever. He deserves a screen cap.
Fozzie wants to sum up the entire movie for Teeth, but Kermit suggests that would bore the audience and instead hands Teeth the script. This is the finest example of this meta Kaufman-ism I can think up, and it’s nicely unpretentious. Teeth reads about Kermit in the swamp, and we fade to…Teeth narrating the fact that he’s narrating his narration. This really is like Adaptation, only without the drug usage (eh…questionable for this band). Understanding the Hopper scenario, Teeth proposes a clever plot device (his words)…
Disguising Fozzie’s beloved Studebaker, montaged over the band singing “Can You Picture That?” What, you thought we’d have a rock band in this movie without a musical number? Following this joyous silliness, Kermit and Fozzie discover their ride has been hippified, the rainbow symbolism subtly reintroduced. They head on their way, the Electric Mayhem rejecting an invitation to join them on the logic that they’ll just exploit their wealth later anyway. Ah, what funny little moments of cynicism!
Movin’ right along, and shaking off another Hopper intervention, Kermit and Fozzie have a run in with the Great Gonzo – literally. Now they’ve picked up the Muppet whom I least understand, along with his disgusting chicken paramour Camilla. Looking to the Internet for answers as to what Gonzo is, it turns out he is a…Whatever. That’s not me giving up, that’s whatever he is.
This growing Muppet street gang pulls into a used car lot to trade with Milton Berle, Mr. Television himself…yeah, I’m not totally sure. Funny jokes ensure that our heroic mob of mops drives away in a 1946 Ford woody. Monstrous, sasquatchian Muppet Sweetums is offered a ride to Hollywood. Sweetums runs off in terror screaming “Hollywood!” repeatedly, just as I imagine Alan Moore does (they’re equally hirsute). This is a misdirect, though, for he reemerges with his bags packed just as the Ford leaves. Sweetums races after them on foot, a new running gag to replace the now-dead Hare Krishna joke.
At a county fair, Elliott Gould announces a beauty pageant, Edgar Bergen performs with his famous ventriloquist dummy Charlie McCarthy, Bob Hope sells ice cream, and Richard Pryor sells balloons (Gene Wilder is nowhere to be seen). Wow.
And what major 70s celebrity wins Gould’s beauty pageant? Miss Piggy. She lays one eye on Kermit and instantly descends into a jokey montage of romantic pastiches, singing “Never Before, Never Again.” I like the way the Muppets deal with romance. Usually, a movie of this type would suddenly feign seriousness under the bizarre impression that females scorn comedy, but not the Muppets. Indeed, the mere visual of a pig and a frog in a bodice ripper is enough to shred what little dignity that genre had left.
Then Gonzo floats away on Richard Pryor’s balloons.
I leave that sentence in isolation because I find it fascinating. The rest of the Muppet horde crowds into the Ford to give chase, Kermit advising Fozzie to “bear left,” he telling Kermit to “right frog.” Hopper gives chase with a rifle, resulting in a slapstick chase that cannot be typed – in the end Gonzo reunites with the Muppets and a cream pie the size of Mighty Joe Young hits Hopper.
Kermit and Miss Piggy are the best comic duo from the show. They have a romantic moonlit dinner al fresco, served by a hilariously insolent Steve Martin. Several funny jokes later, Miss Piggy responds to a phone call (from her agent), leaving Kermit to stew in a frog funk alongside piano-playing Muppet dog Rowlf. Though Kermit is green, he has the blues, and he sings a jazzy duet with Rowlf titled “I Hope That Somethin’ Better Comes Along,” which I think is only from the extended edition. Not sure.
Kermit learns Hopper has pignapped Miss Piggy, that swine. Our frog hero finds her in the vile clutches of the evil Professor Max Krassman, played by Mel Brooks regular Mel Brooks (director of Mel Brooks movies). Astoundingly, Brook’s walking Teutonic stereotype provides family-friendly Holocaust humor (he calls an execution cap an “electric yarmulke”), and more astoundingly it’s very funny. Using something he calls “Herr Machine,” Brooks plots to brainwash Kermit into the perfect mindless spokes model, like Miley Cyrus. One slipped racist pig slur later, and Miss Piggy escapes from her restraints and uses pig fu to beat Brooks’ baddies’ butts. Quoth Brooks: “What is this, a luau?” Piggy rescues Kermit from Brook’s Kraut clutches, and finally gets a real phone call from her agent, offering a really good pig gig.
This is the point where the movie completely falls apart. That is, the projector conks out, leaving the entire Muppet bestiary in the audience perplexed. The Swedish Chef fixes it, because they had to fit him in somehow, and the movie resumes. And much like The Princess Bride after it, The Muppet Movie does a fine job of intentionally shattering story momentum with no ill effect to the story’s flow. It takes a deft hand to accomplish this, and I actually think some of the sappier stuff to come works because of these narrative intrusions.
Hopper has resolved to kill Kermit if he won’t be a media whore, to which intent he hires Scott Walker (who gets no bold, considering his scant, scant celebrity). This dark, pale figure, star of many an Internet-based child nightmare list, does but one thing: “Kill frogs.”
With all its formal inventiveness, anarchic humor and celebrity cameos, The Muppet Movie has earned its moment of schmaltz. For as the Third Act starts, the various Muppets are all at their lowest ebb, stranded helpless in the desert and forced to hear Gonzo sing “I’m Going to Be There Someday.” This song is about the moon, which I sure hope isn’t a reference to Muppets from Space some two decades away. Then Kermit heads off on his own to have an inner dialogue with a second Kermit that’s there in a desert (in a deleted scene beforehand, Kermit sups from a barrelhead cactus). All hope is lost, as far as making it to Hollywood in time for the frog audition. The mescaline-induced Kermit guides the “real” Kermit (if you think this animated sock puppet in a film-within-a-film real). This provides the movie’s standard family message: never give up on your dreams. I am in a generous mood, so I’m willing to grant that Jim Henson actually meant this message sincerely, especially seeing as the whole show business tale is a metaphor for his own life.
Salvation comes in the form of Dr. Teeth and the Electric Yarmulke – excuse me, Mayhem. They arrive in their astounding hippie van, having found our heroes by reading ahead in the script. Ha! All seems to be going along quite well for our beloved frog, pig, bear, dog, chicken, 1970s rock band and whatever, up until Austin Pendleton (already bolded once, not happening again) issues them Hopper’s final challenge: A High Noon showdown in a ghost town.
They arrive in this old western locale full of collapsing horse skeletons. Animal growls a little, causing me to completely lose all composure for several whole minutes. I’m sorry, Animal’s just that funny. Kermit discovers a laboratory, home to the few major Muppets we haven’t met yet, namely Dr. Bunsen and Beaker (“Meep!”). Just then Hopper appears outside, demanding Kermit engage him in a western pastiche. The very image of a man having an old west showdown with a frog puppet is extremely funny, as it’s supposed to be. Like Jim Henson himself, Kermit remains unwilling to sell out. Henson must be rolling in his grave now that Disney owns the company name.
All seems lost (except that the framing device instantly removes all suspense), when Animal, out for walkies, gets his ravenous mouth on Dr. Bunsen’s Insta Grow Pills. ANIMAL GROWS! WHOO!
The massive, motley Muppet mob manages to…drive to Hollywood, which I can’t quite convey in m’s. They wish to see studio executive Lou Lord (Henson in-joke here) but are stymied by his secretary Cloris Leachman (we’re one Marty Feldman away from being an official Mel Brooks movie). She proves allergic to Muppets, just like the most hateful, cynical-minded people in the world, and thus they are granted an audience. And what possible cameo could live up to the exalted Lew Lord? Why, the star of The Transformers: The Movie himself, Orson Welles, that pea-eating madman! He is instantly receptive to this gaggle of anthropomorphized rags assembled in his office. “Prepare the standard rich and famous contract.”
The fictional Muppets are now just as rich and famous as their real counterparts. So they set about filming the movie that they are themselves still appearing in. That is, this is a movie called The Muppet Movie where the Muppets watch a movie called The Muppet Movie where the Muppets make a movie called The Muppet Movie. Got it? I just watched Inception last night, and that thing has fewer crazy layers than this! They sing “Finale: The Magic Store,” which equates our own lives with a movie, which just muddles things further, since the Muppets have now informed us all we live in the Matrix! The Muppets caper around in the fakest looking sets possible. Gonzo then somehow manages to explode the roof, causing a real rainbow to illuminate the entire, entire, ENTIRE Muppet Legendarium.
“The End” spells out on screen, revealing that one or more of the many movies we’re now watching is over. Sweetums then bursts through the screen, having just arrived in Hollywood, suggesting that the “Sweetums” seen in the film was just a really convincing costume of a guy in a costume. Or something…On-screen credits play before the congregated Muppets, betraying their own world as a fiction…Unless this is documentary footage. Oh my head.
I swear, The Muppet Movie doesn’t come across nearly so meta when you’re watching it. This is a loveable movie, but I think it did my brain serious damage to write about it. But this craziness aside, I’d say The Muppet Movie truly meets Jim Henson’s defined goal for “The Muppet Show” – it is clever enough to appeal to both children and adults without offending either one. It’s like if the Marx Brothers did Pixar movies, with mops.
In defining a Muppet film franchise, I have to set some guidelines, considering the broad and nebulous definition sometimes ascribed to a “Muppet” (hell, if Homer Simpson cannot adequately say what it is, no one can). By Henson’s broadest definition, technically The Empire Strikes Back is a Muppet movie (Yoda, dude), and that’s where things get remarkably complicated. For this reason, I’m only counting movies that star characters derived from “The Muppet Show” (no “Sesame Street”-derived movies, and no Labyrinth with its David Bowie Muppet). Neither do I count Muppet cameos, ‘cause then freaking American Werewolf in London is a Muppet movie. Even by these narrowed definitions, there’s a healthy six or so true Muppet movies, as we’ll see soon enough.
Related posts:
• No. 2 The Great Muppet Caper (1981)
• No. 3 The Muppets Take Manhattan (1984)
• No. 4 The Muppet Christmas Carol (1992)
• No. 5 Muppet Treasure Island (1996)
• No. 6 Muppets From Space (1999)
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